Thinking

Thinking is a rather strange pastime. Back with Mother, I didn’t have time to think—there was always too much to be done. Either we were training our bodies to perform needed tasks or we were maintaining the City. But here, out in the wilderness of space, there was not much else to do but think. I stared out at the lights drifting by, wondering how many of those stars had planets, if there were creatures like us on them, if—
The mission was simple. The Ship was following another of the Fleet—this other Ship had been stolen by the mongrel animals of another world—a world unlike Mother, but a strange, heathen land. The Ship was programmed to follow the stolen one. We, the crew, only had to wait for our Ship to find it. It wouldn’t take long, the mongrels didn’t know how to program the Ship.
A planet flickered by, a swirling mass of reds and oranges. It reminded me of the clouds that covered Mother and of how the sky looked in a storm—
The mission was simple. No, I already thought about that. That is one of the things that made thinking so tedious, you often thought of the same things many times, until you didn’t want to think anymore.