Eighth Generation; Weyland T́͡͏̲̯IPE

Time dilation was typically a facet of human perception; minutes did not really crawl by so much as the human mind processed them different when chemicals blossomed and created the effect.  Well, mostly.  An acute enough gravity well could stretch time - something behemoth enough to exert a force on the fifth dimension dragging the property itself down.

For humanity’s creation, time was a constant without the outwards drag of true time distortion. David’s ever-ticking brain never faltered, never stumbled nor stopped.  The few times he had encountered gravity wells large enough to distort time had been curious; very strange indeed, to feel the lithium itself inside the part of his mind that kept track of the passing moments pulled on by a mass bigger than any of the crew members sleeping in their pods could have conceived of.

While that moment had been strange, he now found himself faced with a more urgent, chaotic, and present curiosity - one that he we not authorized to handle himself. Time, again, had seemed to hang (now in the metaphorical sense as his brain ran calculations on the correct action to take) as he had looked into the mycology bay.

There was only one thing to do - wake and consult Stamets.  Without hesitation he readied the necessary accouterments and depressed the switch to begin a premature awakening.