Decompression (continued)................

Smith's limp body spasmodically slip across the floor of the drive
room towards the small holes in the bulkhead.
Luckily, the scutters were able to seal the holes before they grew
enough for a body, say his size, could concievably fly out of them
into the big black yonder.
Which is exactly what almost happened.
The cold shocked him into conciousness, which was a welcome change
from the white void, mainly because Smith had run out of curses to
yell, having tried in seven different languages, including
ellusively foreign computer AI languages and Welsh.
John gasped for air.
After this particular need was satisfied and he was returned to his
normal state of being, that is to say he was once agian his snotty,
smeggy, suck-uppity self.
He returned his attention the to hovering bald Head, what was its
name again? Hoppy, Hoggy?
Holly! That was it!
So thrilled was Smith that he jumped to his feet, pointed, and
yelled triumphantly, "Holly! That's your NAME!"
Holly frowned. It was the last time he looked, although he could be
mistaken about that.
"Yup. I think so too."
"Well where am I then?", John questioned.
Holly reached back into his databanks.
"The mining ship Blue Dwarf, sent out to find her lost sister ship,
Red Dwarf."
So that was where he was!
This last bit of news thrilled John, because up until this point, he
may as well be in another dimension as far as he knew.
Another thought, not so thrilling, entered the paranoid mind of John
Smith.
Perhaps this was an elaborite illusion, a plot of Big Brother to
probe his mind and steal his knowledge about the JMC! The white void
may have been a mind probe, couldn't it?
Perhaps this "Holly" computer wasn't quite as stupid as it made
itself out to be. Could it be Big Brother himself?
John's heart began to pound and blood rushed in his ears like a
rabbit who has just realized that maybe shotguns aren't the most
reliable of friends after all.