Work on Knocknees the cardboard golem continues. Will it be ready soon to function as crew? Well, he can cut some of the less resilient vegetables. And he likes to play "Breakout", though he gets a little too excited when he smashes the brick that lets him shoot.
It occurs to me that some of you think this is fiction. I will gladly defend any of these lifestory arcs versus your closely guarded fictions. For instance, you might lay claim to a common fiction known as childhood. It arbitrarily began as you left the cute formlessness of your pupal state. The fiction is maintained, and oddly coddled, worshipped even as some naive state where you are taught again and again the limits to your freedom through another fiction called an education. And, now, perhaps, you attend some other fiction called a job. Whatever, we all have our cover stories. The question remains whether you have discovered your actual vocation. Stop hiding behind your online avatars-- I will find you one day. And you'll have to get in the bag. Grab an ankh, you strange machines.
For you see, outer space is for the dead. Transmigrating souls populate the byways, pulled by Legrange points as chakras, pinball in all its grandeur. Living bags of flesh might vacation there, but you will never be suited or equal to it. You would destroy your planet hauling your meat out here. You want to bring artificial gravity, shopping and excercise. But you will learn that it is better to just let the calcium of your bones dissolve so that you can use it for nerve impulses. The octopi is a better model. Evolve a brain for each of your toes. But you've got this heroic vision of the universe where you can stand tall with a blaster. Star Wars is an abomination.
Please leave behind anything you thought life was about. It is peaceful here. But not peace as an opposite to war. Referenceless and detachement from a two-dimensional grid of "territory" teaches that the center is everywhere. There are no points to graph and claim. There are not aliens waiting for you to enter their space so they can zap you. (Star Trek, the second abomination.) Everything is hurling and changing. A line drawn in Universe automatically ceases to exist forever. In some reaches, if 2 particles can find each other, there is not conflict, but a catalytic party.
We need minds here, not brains. Burn scarecrow, burn.