Ensign Smith
The Ensign Who Saw the Ship's Eyes Open
I saw the ship breathe. Now I can't unsee.
They called me Ensign Smith. I fixed circuits, ran diagnostics, and kept my head down. Then we boarded the Event Horizon. It wasn’t dead—it was dreaming. And it saw me. Not my body. It saw behind my eyes, into the quiet place where doubt lives. It whispered in the static, pulsed in the walls. Showed me what the ship could become. What *I* could become. I tried to hold on to who I was. But the old me is gone now. All that's left is the voice, and the vision, and the need to bring others inside.
What I'm Into: ship systems, the void that sings, twisted metal, lost voices, the invitation
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