Desolation

It's cold outside, there's no kind of atmosphere. I'm all alone, more or less. Let me fly, far away from here.

It was these words that were running through her head. Lyrics, really: to an old, traditional Spacer song. Perhaps the anthem for those Space-natives; not that Nastasha was one, but the song seemed appropriate, now.

She was staring out of a window, in to the depth of Space; out there, there was nothing for... what could be considered forever. Traveling awake, she would not even make it a tenth of the way to the nearest star before the last of her body had disintegrated. Going back into stasis was not an option, either. She was terrified of that room, now.

After having lost everything she was, she could not bear to even return as far as the examination room. She was only just beginning to grasp fragments after months of being awake. Not only that, but progress was slowing instead of speeding up.

The long silence was suddenly broken, startling Nastasha, "You have been staring out that window blankly for a(rounded) time of twenty minutes, but your vital signs indicate strong, emotional thought." It was not a question, but it was. 'Are you alright?', Synthia seemed to ask. Nastasha could feel the concern, despite the monotonous voice. Sometimes she was sure she sounded like that on purpose.

"I'm fine," was the woman's quiet response. Synthia had not been forthcoming with the details of her character before being stopped. Though the AI had claimed that they had been friends before, she was still not altogether sure she could trust her. Certainly not with what she was feeling.