Commonwealth World, Neural Networks, Cruisers and Slave Trade. Somewhere in the backyard of the Human Oikumena... I have no idea how long I have been in oblivion. There were no dials on the walls, and the wristwatch before the flight was left for storage, along with documents and government awards, at home. Now it turns out - for eternal storage. However, now, one had only to think about the loss of the incredibly curious interior remaining somewhere in the unimaginable world yesterday, thoughts somehow smoothly and unobtrusively moved to the surrounding bed. As if someone put a barrier in his head, a trap for negativity. A cunning ban on suffering, skillfully replacing one emotion with another. Moreover, there really was something to spend a part of your attention on. Metal, as if cast, slightly inclined walls. Without a single, by the way, window or porthole. It is not known on what principle the panels that worked, glowing with even yellow-white light, as if melted into the ceiling and some pylons protruding from the walls.