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| Chapter 1: Space Travel is Boring | |
| My muscles twitched in what threatened to become full on seizures. The mag-stims, metallic bands around my skull, lifted from my head and stimulated the wrong areas of the brain on the way up. My stomach lurched, and I held down a gush of vomit in the back of my throat. The mag-stim bands finished retracting. The feeling passed. | |
| The unpleasantness was a small price to pay for 12 hours of vague, artificial pleasure. The memories had already faded; I couldn’t quite remember what the device had stirred in my mind, except that I had kind of enjoyed it. The high grade stims were reserved for first class passengers and I envied them. I pulled my neck to one side, and then to the other. I was rewarded with a series of satisfying cracks. I hated Spring Airlines. Their seats didn’t recline and they wreaked havoc on my back. | |
| “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be arriving shortly at Huacheng International Airport. Please securely fasten your seat belts and notice the no smoking sign.” | |