Free The End of All Things: The First Instalment by John Scalzi

notation to have the data sent to other ships at the earliest opportunity.
    If Control were noting any of this, I didn’t know about it. Control was entirely silent for that entire simulation, and the other runs we ran that day. “You will be controlling the ship alone,” Control said, when I asked it about the silence, between runs. “You will not have us nor any other person to communicate with once you begin your missions. You need to get used to the silence.”
    You’re not worried about boredom? I asked. Human minds need a little stimulation outside of monitoring navigation systems.
    “This has not been a problem before,” Control said. Which is how I learned for sure that I was not the first person they had done this to.
    I thought about other people in the same predicament and would have shuddered if I could.
    It also suggested to me that I might not even be the only person currently in my situation. That Control, whoever it was, might also be running simulations with other people and ships, even as it was working with me. It would be something I would need to find out, eventually.
    “We’re done for the day,” Control eventually said. “We will continue again tomorrow.”
    How many hours will that be? I asked. I didn’t know if Control was human, and wherever we were was almost certainly not a human outpost, so I had no idea of how long a day would be.
    “About twelve hours from now,” Control said, after a minute. I think it may have had to look up what “hours” were to make the conversion.
    What do I do now? I asked.
    “Whatever you like,” Control said.
    I’d like to go jogging, I thought.
    Control didn’t say anything to that. I was getting the idea that Control, whoever it was, did not have a particularly good sense of humor.
    What is there for me to do? I asked.
    “If you like, you may reload today’s simulations, and run them again,” Control said. “In fact, I suggest it.”
    Is there anything else? I asked. Anything to read? Anything to watch? Anything to listen to?
    “No,” Control said.
    May I request some form of entertainment? I asked. Anything would be good. If I only have navigation simulations, I think my effectiveness will eventually decrease.
    “If it decreases too far then you’ll be punished,” Control said. “If it decreases after that you will be killed.”
    Well, that’s motivation of a sort , I thought to Control.
    Control didn’t respond. I suspected Control had left the simulation.
    You need to get used to the silence, I thought to myself, repeating Control’s words from earlier in the day. Well, I was getting used to it whether I liked it or not.
    I looked down at the simulated captain’s chair and at the captain’s screen, on which a small menu tab appeared, with the day’s missions. I could reload them if I liked.
    Instead I got up and ran around the simulated bridge, doing laps. Then I did some push-ups and lunges and sit-ups.
    I want to be clear I was under no impression that what I was doing constituted actual exercise. I couldn’t feel my simulated body; even the double taps and swipes I made during the day were numbly done. I wasn’t doing it to keep my body in shape. I didn’t have a body to have a shape.
    I did it because it was something else to do besides what Control wanted me to do. Something I wanted to do on my own time. My way of exercising my own control. If you want to put it that way.
    It even kind of worked. Eventually I got tired. I lay down on the simulated floor to go to sleep.
    And discovered I didn’t have simulated eyelids.
    It didn’t matter. I was asleep fast enough anyway.
    This time I knew I had slept.
    * * *
    Two days later I broke the bridge simulation and escaped. Sort of.
    It happened after hours, once Control had gone off for the night, or what I assumed was night, anyway. I was running one of the day’s previous simulations, this one requiring me to navigate the Chandler into a docking position at a space station.