The black currents of the vaccuum surround my pod. Nothing changes, nothing varies, there are no variables here, just the constant of solitude and slow, approaching madness. I have little to do in the chemical pod that houses me. I pulled up an old copy of the EFT Ship Fitting Tool and began to play with configurations for my proposed Bestower/Purifier roving intel setup.
Somewhere in my peripheral this morning there was a flash, the subspace ripple of a wormhole opening. It is torture; I have no precise way to reach it, and I have no idea where it goes. Unseen in dark reaches beyond my vision is the static highsec, and home.
One of these mysterious Sleepers popped up on directional. It was just a frigate but I was in no position to fight it off so I popped into an asteroid belt, cut the power and drifted, managing to stay off it's radar.
A close call. I shall have to be more vigilant.