I opened my eyes suddenly and saw densely packed, criss-crossing metal pipes. Rust stains spread on the pipe walls, like ugly scars. Above my head, a dim yellow light flickered on and off. The light barely illuminated the narrow space where I was - probably enough for me to curl up and lie down. The surroundings were piled with various discarded parts, twisted wires, and several empty nutrient solution cans.
"Fuck..." I cursed and tried to sit up, only to find that my whole body ached as if I had been run over by a heavy mecha.
This is not my body.
As soon as this idea came up, a wave of memories that didn't belong to me flooded into my mind like a flood that burst a dam.
Lin Mo, seventeen years old, orphan, interstellar refugee. The so-called interstellar refugees, at best, are people who make a living among abandoned starships and garbage stars; at worst, they are garbage pickers. Three days ago, while fighting for an energy block that could still barely function in the "Rust Belt" - a cemetery of abandoned starships that had been abandoned by the Federation for nearly a hundred years - he was pushed by several homeless people who were stronger than him and fell off the middle deck of an abandoned cruiser. His head hit a protruding alloy plate and he died on the spot.
And I, from the earth, an ordinary social worker named Chen Fan, died suddenly after working overtime, and when I opened my eyes, I became this young Lin Mo struggling to survive in the garbage dump.
"Picking up garbage... You really start from the bottom." I smiled bitterly, digesting the memories in my mind, and felt mixed emotions in my heart.
In my previous life on Earth, although I was a little tired, at least I had shelter from the wind.
