By David Fear You open your eyes and have no idea where you are, or how you got there. You’ve been slumbering so long that when you try to stand, your legs don’t work; you end up wriggling on the floor like a worm. Your beard has reached writing-a-manifesto-in-the-woods length. Because everyone who was with you is now dead, you quickly realize that you are completely alone. Looking out a window, you try to use the sun as a landmark. Then you realize that it’s not “our” sun. You don’t think things could get worse. They do. Because it soon becomes apparent that, having been jostled from a deep, deep sleep, you’re now in deep, deep space, many light years away from home. I’m not an astronaut, you exclaim, despite the fact that you’re on a vessel currently hurtling through the galaxy. This is technically true (despite the fact you once played Neil Armstrong in a biopic, but we’re getting ahead of ourselves). You are not an astronaut.…