Usually, something starts these things. Sometimes they just pop off – dream, aphorism; conversation. Sometimes a riff on the old neighborhood, or things that bother me.

There is no inspiration for this story. I’m not sure why i started writing about people landing a ship on an empty planet, but that’s where it started. Like Family Man, the details would follow from what was stated: It was a decent way in before i had some themes i wanted to play on, and an early line in the first chapter became the skeleton for what would happen: What was going to happen to make ol’ Malyk relevant?

It just sort of arrived.

I’m pleased that there were points where writing was – Jammin’!

Rollin’ off fingers.

typ’d, wrot’d, told’d.

This was not written with the euphoric snoffelplos of Reach, but it did feel good to be writing it.

Oh yes: What the hell’s it about. People trying to live within the architype they’re stuffed in, and randomly forced to figure out what they’ve stumbled on – everybody has an opinion that’s mostly wrong.

It wasn’t the most prestigious assignment. It wasn’t the sort of great adventure everybody dreams about. But that didn’t matter to the young pilot. Just recently certified, it was a better prospect than could have been expected. It seemed like a great start to his career. And then, there was a girl. Everything got complicated after that.