Tomorrow the ship's engines would begin to sing, and everything that floated now would fall. The aft walls would become floors. Corridors would be converted back to elevator shafts, and where now the ship-folk glided freely back and forward through the air, they would be carried down and up in closed chambers. The informality of summer would give way to rank and hierarchy, bright clothes would be exchanged for uniforms; and on the old bridge, after the harvest feast, the summer captain would be laid to rest beneath the stars.

— What We Are Seeking by Cameron Reed (Page 1)