Reading ANCESTRAL NIGHT (first in the series) now, enjyoing the quick-shift feeling of disorientation like a spanking new artificial grav field kicking on.
Hell, the entire load-bearing backstory of my White Space books is "What if all the eschatological tech billionaires and millennarians fucked off into space and left a severely damaged Earth in the hands of the community organizers, who rewired our brains to be more commensal."
I'm pretty sure you got the response out of me you were going for early on:
"afthands, huh? Makes sense for a spacer, feet would be stabilizers and manipulators, and not a lot of standing around in microgravity. Odd bit of lingo, though.
...
...
Oh. OH!"
