Some days I don’t believe any of this. I don’t believe the stone under my feet, the wood wearing at the palms of my hands, or the ache of my back.
This is unreal. If these hallucinations are to be believed, I’ve been here over 150 days. That’s… well, it’s probably deep winter back home on Earth. It’s contract renewal season on the ship.
I don’t believe I’m here. I’m not here. I’m actually unconscious, in a coma from a rock fall during our last mission, on my bed, being carried home to my family.
Or maybe I never joined The Company. Maybe I’m actually at home, running a fever, with my family around me, like that old Wizard of Oz movie.
This is just too weird.