I looked over the numbers for the fifth time. Mistakes, as I have thoroughly learned, are unacceptable when you have a big bucket of ice and metals needed at the shipyards around Earth as quickly as possible. The Ceres-Earth run has been good to me, though, and this is definitely getting routine. I can live with routine.

The numbers are good. The fuel-cost is actually pretty low this trip – we’re close on the optimal transit time, not that anyone waits for that these days. I lock in the numbers, and queue up the burns on the computer. With that done, I disentangle myself from the astrogation console and propel myself over to my home for the next 15 months.

When humans began to find their place among the planets, we had some bad times. Because fuel isn’t free, we found ourselves forced to take the slow paths, the gentle burns and long, coasting floats through the emptiness of space. The year to travel to Mars was brutal to our initial colonists, and the asteroid belt was initially considered beyond our reach. Humans don’t do well crammed in tight spaces with the same people for more than half a year.

That has, obviously, changed. The catalyst for our expansion was suspended animation. If everyone’s asleep, nobody can try to kill their crewmates. The problem was... the asteroid belt, even though it is mostly devoid of all rocks and particles, is impossible to fully map. To try and put an autopiloted ship smack dab in the middle of all that mystery, well, the first few decades had had too many lost ships for anyone’s comfort.

Enter Virtual Cryo. By carefully balancing all sorts of factors, most of which I couldn’t even name properly, it turned out to be possible to get all the biological benefits of cryosleep while still allowing the popsicle to be woken up with only 10 minutes of automatable procedure. Honestly, I wake up quicker from VC than from normal sleep. None of that fighting with your dream-self’s contentment, just sit up and blink a bit.

Locking myself into the straps, I get settled into the moulded padding of the VC capsule. Steeling my nerves against the feeling that always seems to show up with this moment, I speak into the silence of the room. “Astrogationer Caleb, requesting identification.”

The computer voice responded immediately in a soft feminine mode, “Acknowledged, Astrogationer Caleb. Ready to sleep?”

“I am ready,” I reply, enunciating with that extra clarity that always helps computer recognition.

“I wish you well in your dreams,” the computer says, as the Virtual Cryo procedures begin to cloud my senses. “Good night.”

== * ==

I open my eyes into awareness. I am standing before a small hut, with the sign “Ancient Tablets 5” hanging above the door. I roll my eyes – that had been a fun blast of hilarious old mechanics and antiquated design, but it wasn’t the thing for the start of a journey. I wasn’t going back to it, not right now anyways. As I begin to turn away, though, I feel how my leg takes my weight, and pause. My body isn’t negotiable in real life, but here?

“Computer, load player model from last played game,” I command the world around me.

I blink, and find myself a good bit shorter. I had played a very gender-blurry little Ice Elf mage. Magic wouldn’t work in the bootstrapping environment, but as I stepped forward, things felt better this time around. I nod, happy with the difference, and make my way the short few steps to the simulated main street, lined with the available modules.

I had culled a lot of the worst offenders before accepting the job, so the ones I was left with were either old reliable options, or entirely new modules, some of them actually new, having been released since the start of my last job.

I survey the array of buildings around me, like a graveyard of outhouses, finding myself beset by choice-paralysis.

“Computer, select preferential-random new module, character-creation enforced. Go.” I may be unable to decide, but that doesn’t mean a choice can’t be made!

“Very well... Loading module: ‘Energy Implications IV’.” Ah, yes, the prequel-reboot to that old classic.

I close my eyes, letting the computer work its sensory magic without needing to fight my conception of continuity.

“Module loaded,” the computer sang out happily. “Voice interface transferring...”