"She's a nice little starship here," the merchant exclaimed, pointing out the front viewscreen. His pilot just kept the shuttle flying in this slow examination of the ship outside, while the agent worked at 'selling' all its finer points.

I know this class of starship; in the past I've worked on one of them. So, I know its hidden flaws; let's see if this guy will divulge them okay.

"Main bridge is on top deck, officer's quarters are around and below it; it has three common mess halls, one on deck three and two on the seventh; and aft of it are its regular crew quarters. As you can see from our little fly around, it does have shuttle bays, both port and starboard, large enough for two Imperial class six shuttles each. Plus this main shuttle bay itself is four times larger than either one, going from decks four to six aft. Main engineering and power and propulsion, all decks five and six, with assorted other engineering bits. Decks seven on all the way down to twelve, more crew rooms and passenger facilities, plus a couple of 'diplomat quality' suites make this ship a great deal. It can all be yours for the low sum of eight hundred ninety nine thousand, nine hundred ninety nine, and ninety nine one hundredths solar credits. So ... whatcha say, um, miss-"

So ... either he wouldn't say, or he didn't know.

"Too cheap, what's wrong with the thing."

The merchant didn't like my tone, my outright challenge which was none too subtle.

"Are you inferring I'd sell defective merchandise?"

"Thinking it, saying it, and maybe advertising it to the universe."

"Why you little-"

"This the way you treat a prospective client?"

"... shit."

He turned away from me in disgust, directing the pilot of this shuttle to break off.

"Hey wait, I didn't say I wasn't considering it. But what's wrong with it."

"Nothing. Not that I know this, firsthand, but; it's just-"

Aha. Now we come down to it.

"-the original operating systems manufacturer and programming firm, they ... went bust about a decade ago. This ship boasting it still has the original programming is good and all; but ... so far past the last update and it's no longer in range for service. Meaning, no system updates, she's flying with the last firmware and wetware she'll ever have."

"I see."

"Oh this isn't a problem, if it's used for local and short range hauling; but certain extended operations with some shutdowns for regular maintenance are a necessity. It would be even less of a problem if you hired a programming crew to basically 'rewrite' the base operating system and make something from scratch. As I understand it a lot of those 'open source' starship OSes are growing real popular now. Look into that one called 'Minnox' will ya-"

"Well then Mister Gunderton, it's just as well I have some programming experience back in the day too. About the same time this ship was being brought back into the dock for its first major refit."

"Aah well then I'd kindly like to ask you to consider taking this ship for the price I asked. No wait, I'll knock off another fifty thousand, no questions asked, if you promise not to bring it back for refund. Of course, if you do wish to purchase any other used starship, then do come back anyway but ... this one is an 'as is' sale."

"I can accept this bargain, Mister Gunderton."

"Oh thank you, um ... Miss ... what did you say your name was again?"

"Selene."

"Just ... Selene was it? Um, sorry if this is too personal ― customer rights and all ― but if I may ask, what race are you?"

"Oh just basically a human ... once. But I've had some 'modifications' from ... a long time back."

A subtle recognition of the name caught in his mind, along with the fact just spoken. As I watch his head begin to work, I could only smile.

"Nowadays, the tabloids might call my kind ... a vampire."

His hands went immediately to guard his neck, and even the pilot spared a reaction to this.

"Oh do be calm. I don't bite people's necks. That's an exaggeration the tabloids make up."

"But ... the Capper's Moon Tragedy ... and the Seneca III Congressional Slaughter-"

"I don't know those places; never been there. All I know is what's said. No; I keep to myself, mostly. Just want to buy a ship, and see the universe a bit. Get a chance to be off one world for the rest of my existence."

He relaxed, only a small bit. "W, well, as long as, we do uh ... business, and then after ... that is all ― then it's fine. H, Harris ... resume course. Set us down in the main bay."

---

Vampire.

A word which, over the last seven and a quarter centuries has caused such a turmoil. Ever since the revelation of our presence, our existence and mingling among unsuspecting humans on Earth, and then even more so among the other races 'we' met in space, it's been ... not fun. Either for us 'fantasy folk', or the 'normals'.

Well except for certain races of beastkin, they got a 'free ride' for being so ... furry. And fuckable. Hey it's not like I didn't try either but I can't grow fur!

I had been truthful (this time at least, I'm not always so honest). I had not been to any one of those so called 'landmark battle' sites ... mostly because I was yet in Solitary. I'd only just 'escaped' in the last half century but mankind it seems has a long memory, especially when some of their kin gets slaughtered. Most of the few other races who'd had families in those named places at those times had otherwise gone on to 'forgive and forget'. Aside from an occasional vampire sect trying to revive the battles of the old days, or the occasional pro-human groups trying to rally for our destruction ... it wasn't actually so cut and dried anymore.

Only now being in a spacebound universe, we 'vampires in space' didn't have the same mortality anymore, since the mild cure had been released. This and replacing a couple teeth, and we're like normal humans. This happened oh ... about the same time as humanity reached for the stars and met its first nonhuman race, a fecund catlike form ... which was still surprisingly humanoid, more so than those werecats already on planet Earth.

We vamps still cannot sire children or bear children; but at least now we do not burn in sunlight, and even less so in seeing a star through the filtered glass in a starship. Which is where I'd prefer to be, now. I can skip all the dirtside activities, in favor of running a small merchant operation, buying and selling goods and hauling freight around, and maybe also transporting passengers.

Our sexuality is still about the same as a baseline human, though; maybe boosted when we're planetside on certain 'full moon' or 'no moon' days too A world atmosphere does funny things to sunlight and starlight and even the reflected light from orbital structures, which still boosts our libidos. But I still would rather be here in space, hoping for a chance to move more freely in the universe, than down there and horny all the time. Because ... being horny while being a vamp and having less sexual fluids ... means it's a dry rub on whatever is inserted down there ― unless someone or something provides lubricant. And a horny vamp girl (like me, back then) will basically put anything in there she can ... ouch don't remind me of the time I got splinters all the way inside. So yeah ... move freely around the 'verse, and not be so horny, is what it's gotta be, for me.

Freely? Move ... freely? No, not so; nothing is free anymore. Ships cost money; fuel and energy and food and payroll for crew and passengers, all costs. TANSTAAFL. There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch.

But hey, I have thought ahead, since I've been out of the confinement; planning my resources, I've saved up far more than the asking price for this thing. Some of my savings, even gotten the legitimate way. Enough to power it up and even fill it with resources, if I so desire. Which I do.

My first programming task was for this same model of ship ― hell it could even be this same ship for all I know. Not a lot of these old whatever ― 'midrange cargo transport' with a something or other designation ― not got a lot of them around so much nowadays. Used a lot by smugglers, I hear told in bars; but an honest merchant might do well for a time just starting out in one such as this.

Now. But in analysis of this thing, this ship itself. What do I have to say for this crude vehicle? Ugly. But ugly in the way of it having maybe lots of utility, if a captain and crew were willing and able to overlook a lack of beauty. I'm certainly beautiful enough for the both of us. Hell, I'll take on the beauty shot for my ship instead!

We'd left the pilot behind in the large bay; he's probably even now calling back to the dock and telling everyone he knew, 'hey this babe is really a vamp bitch' or something. I'd overheard the same kind of talk at past attempts to buy from other places; now if this place wouldn't sell me a used ship, then ... what, 'steal a starship' and go on a spree? So then how exactly would this kind of deed work out for the rest of vampire kind?

So I let the ship merchant lead me along in a more proper tour of the vessel, all while as he's being tentatively cautious where I am in relation to him. He might still fear I'd lunge at him or something. No, I'm not so crass as to 'jump scare' him or anything ― though I do admit it might be funny as fuck, and relieve some tension-

Eh fuck it. I'll wait til after the papers are signed, then pull it off. Let's see if the dude shits his pants.

Or it might backfire. Anyway back to the tour. I'm seeing a lot of remembered details in these halls, through these corridors, and on those control panels. A lot of old tech in these rooms, when nowadays culture's gone to more 'touch' devices. Eh I still like some of the clicking of buttons and all; some of this silent tech around the universe is a bit ... silly.

If I remember right the flaw in the engine console never did get worked out, only straightened away in code with a series of warnings. Maybe if I take this ship on, I could someday ... or should I even attempt it. Like I said, I do like this tech; and the chance to fix a longstanding problem has appeal to me. Keeps me busy and not hunting for the next target anyway.

In the deck eight lounge, Gunderton is again pressing his spiel, not at all certain he's needing to do it if I'm going to buy anyway. But he's nervous or has nothing more casual to say, either to me in specific or to the situation in general. So to relieve some of the tension, I do what I usually do, say something melodramatic and give a dire look, and ... he's again grasping to cover his neck. As if that's where I'd aim. Damn; maybe I shouldn't try so hard to be likable?

---

At long last the tour comes to an end; instead of Gunderton asking if I'm considering buying, he instead indicates we should go back to the dock, and into his office.

... oh I'm pretty sure we can do the transaction right here, right now.

He only wants to be 'safe' in his office.

While I only want to be 'safe' away from here.

"See if I did go with you, to your office, then you'd for sure already have a squad of guards surrounding the 'negotiation'. Don't claim you would not, Mister Gunderton. I have been dealt with unkindly by both fellow human and vampire alike; and also I am sure your pilot on the shuttle has probably already told the tale of what and who I am. In this whole deal I have only acted in good faith between us, not at all pressuring you or forcing you to do anything. I won't, because I don't want to. Not can't, because I could if I chose; but I took a vow of peaceful coexistence. Yeah those exist, for vamps like me who just want to 'get along'. And it really hurts my feelings when you act right in front of me like I am going to bite you!"

"... uh-"

Wait. Did I just say all of this aloud?

Silly me; getting ahead of myself. I forget sometimes, I have a low barrier between what I think and what I say. Sometimes I'll just ... speak openly what's on my mind, no matter how embarrassing or personal. Like the one time I was in the grocery store and randomly started saying facts about how quick a vampire could drain a human body dry of blood, depending on which vein they went for. Just ... like that. Then I wondered why people stared at me!

Sometimes my mind and my mouth get me in so much trouble-

"Sorry, if this sounded like a diatribe. But am I correct in how it is not so necessary to finish the transaction on the dock? You are concerned about your safety? Well what I say is true. Some of my kind truly do have a code of ethics, a cause to allow them to reside with you normies. And I have taken this vow, believe it or not. Nowadays the true vampires can turn off their cravings, through a kind of ritual. So yeah, you are safe enough with me, without having to resort to any trickery."

"T, trickery! Human trickery did not get my grandfather killed, or turned to one of your k, kind!"

Uh, oh.

"Even if another vampire did do this, it was not me. Judge me on my actions ... doesn't humanity have a book which says this, more or less? I'm not seeking to harm you, nor trick you, nor do anything dishonest. I only want to buy a used ship ... now let me buy it, dammit!"

Oops, now I might be the one making a hard sell.

---

In the moment, Gunderton's wrist comm chimed, and an announcement like 'code two zero one nine' came across it. Damn; must be the pilot boy, trying to call out and see if the boss was 'okay' or would instead 'need help' by what he replied. Though, all I saw was, Gunderton laughed cautiously, and then spoke into the comm.

"Stand down, alright."

He lifted his data pad, and brought up the contract details.

This was it ... minutes to close the sale.

Gunderton handed me the pad, and I perused the details. All well and good, I think he's being legit straight with me now. The price, marked down from his haggling to get my agreement, clearly marked. Paid in full, nothing due later, no warranty or guarantee, with a second form to input transponder data.

Every ship in the 'verse had a transponder now; it made flying around in space so much easier when ships didn't just randomly crash into each others' paths. A transponder, a beacon, could be setup to broadcast this ship's identity, name of captain and principal crew, and a few technical details about the capacity of the ship's systems. All fairly straightforward; but for some ship merchants and repair shops, the tendency to put in 'hidden data' about a captain or officer was a temptation. Like, 'the captain is friendly on deck, his wife is friendlier in bed', or 'I thought this criminal was convicted already'. Devious little things which slandered the new owner or officers on a ship somehow, but not normally directly accusatory.

Of course, me having these programming skills ... I would spot any such details immediately.

Something I have yet to confirm. "Mister Gunderton. Would the transponder for this model of ship be the CASS 323B, or the ZENCLAR X2-G? Because I already know how to setup both of those. If you do not mind, I would like the opportunity to set mine up, myself-"

There. He knows, not only do I have the skills, but I have the determination to follow through on any little detail such as this. Well. If it is to be my ship anyway, I'd truly like the honor of this detail too.

"W, what m, model-"

He doesn't know, does he.

I narrow my eyelids, just a bit.

"Strictly speaking, I favor the ZENCLAR model; but the CASS is cheaper so I suppose that's what you got. Anyway just mark it as 'customer to complete this task' and let it go at this. I will file a complete copy of the finished transponder data with your dock, properly; but I really am eager to get at the details too."

"... fine."

At least he doesn't seem to be obfuscating a technical attempt to input bad data-

---

Two hours later ― half of which was getting back to his dock in his shuttle, just to retrieve my own shuttle left there when I came here on his ― and I'm back again in the now 'my' ship.

Oh crap, you know what, I forgot to do the little jump scare ... aah no I'm not calling him back here just for that. Oh but if he ever steps foot in here again, then ― we'll see.

Now I can prance about all the decks stark naked if I want ― naked from the bridge to the sewage treatment to the lounge to the captain's suite. And no I did not buy this ship just to do that! But it's an experience I am doing just the same!

Back in the main shuttle bay, my crappy little shuttle tucked in a niche, its tiny cargo hold filled with 'spare parts' for this vessel ― some of those parts might be required just to start it up. Docks do that, you know. Extract key parts from used ships waiting to be sold, so nobody can just run off with them; and then they only hand over the key parts when the ship is sold.

Which part ― aah, aha, it has to be ... that. A primary electronic circuit board, so old tech gear on this era ship even. But probably something required before the main computer or engines could be booted up. Where the hell does this frikkin thing even go?

Power system, probably. Or some power line or convertor or inverter or something of that nature. Oh hell, it would be so bad ... trying to power up a ship for the first time, and it goes 'critical failure' on me. Then the dock would send out a crew to answer my distress call. And then the new owner could be charged a service fee to put a part back in place ... after the tech crew meandered around like they were doing something productive for an hour ... or a day.

Me, bitter? Jaded? Practically furious at the thought already? Naaaaaaah- well okay maybe a little.

I will do everything in my power to avoid having to call for help.

But first ... how about a nice cool bath.

---

Dripping dry out of the bath, I'm standing before the full height mirror, examining myself. My reflection. Oh it's so nice to have one, you know? This mirror, so nice-

As a once human girl I managed to top out over six feet tall, in metric about one point seven nine meters, and I'm all fit and trim, eternally so, now.

The same height as always; I can't complain, no change possible. Same pure black hair; and in these recent years I'd let it grow longer, once more. Already 'past my buttocks' long, now. A bitch to manage, after some restful night's ... well not sleep, but maybe after a passionate bout with whoever felt like taking a tumble with me-

The overall form. The body measures it seems girls of all races want to have in mind. Measures thirty two, twenty five, thirty one might seem like only a random accretion of numbers; but for the hell of it I'd never grow beyond those numbers. Thin, lithe, graceful as always; but why couldn't a girl get some larger breasts after seven or eight centuries like this?

Down there was still so ... trimmed. No not trimmed; but from the day the first one took a nibble on my neck, it had been hairless. Mostly because in preparation for what I had thought would be a hot date, I had my girlfriends pluck each and every pubic hair, so I could be ... ready, for the first time. I'd got told some guys liked this, back then. It seems though what a boy or girl had for their physical features at the time of their turning, they would be forever at this state. Well no, with the remedial cure the hair still grew now, if a vamp still had the follicles; but remained hairless in places where no follicles had been when 'turning vamp'. So I would always keep a 'hairless pussy' look, forever. Only a problem if I wanted a hairy look down there. No skin off my back ... or crotch ... as I don't like to shave down there too ... from the one time I remember of it.

Even this tall and pretty when I'd changed, the only real 'change' in physique had been how various masses of cellulite had burned away in about a week. Before that, guys laughed at me and said I was heavier than a horse. Well I wasn't fat, so much as maybe a small bit ... chubby in places. Ass, hips, thighs, and calves more or less shrank by the day. Went from one hundred eighty pounds, down to one hundred twenty two. Made me now look so thin and weak ... but a vamp always has a secret strength, not just one of muscle and blood. I could probably still lift a quarter ton if I had to, at Earth's gravity level too. Probably. Not going to test it now.

A first touch: take out the luggage brought from my shuttle, and ... spray on the perfume, one of those infused essential oils fragrances. It's necessary, to let me feel at peace. A vamp girl of a certain age gets tired of smelling like dried flaking skin and dust and musty soils. I miss flowers, like those that used to be on Earth before it popped. Flowers on different worlds, somehow not the same as those from the old Earth. Aah ― I remember those days.

Next touch: sexy lingerie, the black lace panties and bra that almost isn't there, and the dark hued stockings which went over my lower half. Fuck, nearly snagged on a toenail, have to remember to trim it sometime. Or get a maid bot who'll take on this task, if I can get over being so lazy. Then a comfortable form fitting white cotton tee shirt with a sexy v-neck which revealed the space between these breasts so openly; the bra spanning these small breasts were so plain to see. Then a more general 'come here boy and fuck me' short skirt, black with yellow hazard stripes slashed across it.

Final touch: the wrist comm, an older model but it still works for me; and data pad in my arms for handling or interfacing with a computer system and network. A pair of technician's glasses, wielding magnification lenses with microscopic enhancement, on my eyes; and the item pouch belted on my waist; and done.

I'm suited to work on the technical aspects of my new/used ship; but the problem is, before these last few details I'd looked ready for a hot date, or at least what I remembered a 'hot date' before the bite would have been. I had been too much a wallflower back then. Most vamps hold onto the same mentality all through their life. They think a certain joke is funny, they'd always think it stayed funny, even when it wasn't funny any longer. I had a few of those moments too, where nobody wanted to hang around me too. Dammit, don't tell the dick sucking a chick joke again-

I don't look ... I'm not very much like a captain, am I. No; I look like a cross between a teenage schoolgirl slash SLUT ― which is how I choose to appear, sixteen, give or take seven and a half centuries of changeless form ― or an underdressed starship mechanic out for a romp on the wild side. Oh boy might I turn heads in a dockyard showing up like this!

Every teenage schoolboy's wet dream. I'm okay with that; I've had a few dozen in my days ― only the last boy broke, mentally. Really ... not my fault-

---

Time to power up the ship's AI core, a first generation model based on massive amounts of what ended up being 'flawed human data'. Which meant the ship's AI would be fine for most things, but only 'break' when it came to the things it could not have that it sees in the humans on board ― sex, romance, kissing, flirtation. Eh, maybe even generic teasing too, considering how much of an everyday teasing goes to a 'dirty mind', it seems. Maybe with my mind how it is, I'd break the AI each day, just by me being here-

The thing Gunderton spoke of ― those other OS installs, he mentioned. They generally required nominally operating hardware to install them on, in the first place, which I'm not sure of just yet. I will have to work with the current OS and AI until I know what's wrong here. Oh I'm sure Gunderton spoke truth in that he 'did not know' what else was wrong with the ship; he was only aware of this one problem of being out of the software update cycle. I kinda do like this system, 'Doors 7', used on this model of ship. No way in hell am I going to upgrade to Doors 10 even if I had the opportunity! Too much spying and analytics being shared by that company. Or so I hear.

Why the hell does any company think it needs 'analytics data', anyway?

I digress. Replacing the Doors OS with an alternate system was, originally, my idea back when I was in the 'chain gang' working this ship. Part of it due to my bucking having the electronic collar on my neck, tiny blinky lights indicating my 'slaved' status; and part of it due in general to my rebellious nature and resistance to doing any serious work. Even if I had the knack for technical work, but when I was in a conscripted effort as I had been, I'd taken every opportunity to push off the work as I could. Well I did fix things, also maybe kinda broke some things; but who's asking. Sergeant Carnes did scream fierce in explaining the little doohickey cost the company a fair hundred grand, and I'd just squished it in my fingers like putty. Yeah and it was a mistake when it happened a second time, a third time, and so on.

... I think I broke the sergeant, too ... though I never touched him.

This ship is still on reserve battery power; so ... let's see ... flip this switch, is it, and wait to see-

The minor form of light, the first gen holographic AI form used in starships, slowly came into view. Like a child crouched into a fetal position, the form slowly arose to its full height ... a human scaled down to less than a meter in height. As naked as I had been moments before, but genderless in form, neither hints of breasts nor anything on its groin, this could be chosen in the setup at some point, and even the 'clothes style' to be used. But for it to be such a small form ... this is all the processors could handle, right now.

"Processing-" said the slow voice, even slower than normal due to being on such constraining power limits.

I waited. Unlike others I do have all of eternity for this; so it's no pressure to let a machine do its thing.

"System break point, no identity found, please insert Core Disk 275, or Supplemental Disk 13-"

Disk? Oh I forgot this system still used some of those, especially for the initial setup of the OS. Now let's see, where were they kept? Hmm, captain's office, or engineering chief's office, or computer chief's office, or ... a whole hell of a lot of chiefs' offices. Not to mention the effort in finding 'Disk 275' among the collection.

"Override. Continue boot process."

So my lazy nature got the better of me. I do have the time to hunt down the proper disk; just not the desire to do so right now.

"Suspending identity installation ... confirmed. Default identity is being used until full identity package is installed into system workspace."

Maybe a half hour of this, maybe more or less, and the boot up is done. Seriously a time killer for the initial setup, after a power reset; but even I am taking shortcuts where and when I can. Oh so I do remember some of this, back from the old days; and maybe this is becoming more familiar to me now. But successive reboots should take much less time, on the order of a minute or so, due to some caching of operational data; so the asking for this or that disk won't happen then. Makes it nicer for those forced shutdowns in the heat of battle -- not like I'm expecting this.

I move to the main computer chief's desk, and prepare to input the primary data. Captain, me obviously; no more crew aboard (yet). Let the camera take a sample photo, and attach it to my profile on the ship, and continue. Well, it would continue, but as of now, I am the only crew too. Name of ship? Hmm. Not sure. Would I want to pick something a vamp girl would think up? Maybe not; a lot of the 'V' words were already overused, as were the names or nicknames for other famous starships and personalities of the past, and from glamorized media.

Might be nice to call this an 'Emprise' or 'Firebug' or even 'Burning Crutch Rocket'; but this ship's boxy nature could not do those fictional serialized names justice. Even if this is a quarter kilometer long, fifty meters wide, and fifty meters deep too, only slight rounded at the edges and corners; it's still got a lot of things against it ― from a distance it may also be said to look like a 'giant boner in space'. Heh, that's a thought, instead of me having a boner inside me, I'd be inside a boner. No; for a name I am just going to go with something random or mundane; how about 'Whimsical Mystery', or maybe 'Pretty Starship'. Aha, the latter one, not, obviously ... unless I intend to go for the opposite effect. A theme, of sorts.

"Initialization, complete. Computer core system, nominal. Warning, errors in loading systems detected. Vessel components detected but not complete, not ready for powering up; critical part missing."

Well of course. I already knew this, or suspected ― it's what they do. But I've also prepared for this, brought in all the equipment from my crappy little shuttle whose purpose I don't yet know, and laid them out in this room to ask which one.

"Is the critical part which is missing in this room?"

"Negative, Captain."

Well, crap. This limits the number of options, down to ... continuing to ask, like a game of Twenty Questions. Except this time those questions don't give me the benefit of going for the titillating responses.

"Is the critical part which is missing on this vessel?"

"Affirmative, Captain."

"Can you tell me where it is?"

"Unknown, Captain."

"Why is this not known?"

"The part in question is noted in the vessel's listing of parts, but cannot be seen in the compartments where this system has a visual inspection."

"Oh. Well then can you show me a model of the part which is missing?"

"Affirmative, Captain."

When nothing happened, I realized the nature of the disconnect.

"Show me a model of the critical part which is missing."

In an instant, the neuter form vanished, replaced by a scaled model of a mechanical part. Oh, I'd seen this part in the spares Gunderton had handed over; but in my awareness of having seen its place before, I'd set it in a room next to where another of its kind already was. Which means ― either the room it was in was not under surveillance, or the spare went into another room which was also not under surveillance. Not sure until I check it out.

"This part goes where?"

"The part marked Cumberland Star series GRAVION model GR-25 is scheduled to be located on deck five rearward, in the central room labeled 'Gravity Control'."

Why again is gravity needed? Oh right ... because of changes in acceleration or heading, and a tendency for loose objects to just go banging around against hard surfaces. And not banging against something in that old enjoyable sense. I may be strong too but I'm not immune to hard terminal velocities, which hurt, a lot, to heal from. Let's not have an absence of gravity, shall we.

Speaking of, why I'm not weightless right now is because the ship, being stationary on reserve power, still has enough power to provide partial gravity in Gunderton's little walk through spiel. Plus, it could provide power for fifty more such walks. Turning micro gravities on and off at key moments has allowed me to stay upright and walking through the halls. Enough to allow me to feel so free.

Yeah right. Free.