This vast open hangar is a cavernous feat of massive construction. In the very centre your ship rotates lazily, suspended in a repulsor field. Beneath and above you can see the local hover-car traffic zooming along causeways as the millions of station denizens eke out their miserable existences.

Staring out at the myriad of twinkling lights signifying offices, storehouses and accommodation you realise how meaningless everything is. Faced with being trapped forever in your quarters it occurs to you how it would be easier just to end it all now. Peering over the edge of your balcony you see the floor of the hangar hundreds of metres below.

Will you: