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20 Sep 2017
The whole ship is like that: alive with light, as if light were the blood in its veins. It still bothers him when he's not tired enough to sleep, but he's starting to get used to it. Starting to appreciate that the thing he lives inside is almost as much of an organism as he is. Strange, but also strangely reassuring.
Sometimes when he lies in the dark here, cocooned in his bunk, he wonders what it's like in the tube. If it's quiet. He hopes it's restful. Peaceful. Soft, like the sleep of late morning, with sun coming in from around the drapes. Steve wonders if the translucent panel that covers and shields and contains him also lets in light. If behind his closed eyelids, he can still see something, the way that Steve can when he shuts his own eyes here, now. If he is seeing a kind of permanent sunrise; a long dream of a slow dawn.