He had no idea where he'd come from.
It never occured to him to care.
He had a job everyone desired to have.
He found it intolerably boring.
Then one day his past came calling,
and he wasn't even sure what that was,
but he followed the call anyway.
Was it a stroke of brilliance,
or colossal stupidity?
He'd piloted the largest craft ever devised, or built.  He'd piloted these craft across the greatest distances possible.  A veteran of hyperspace, he'd literally been where very few creatures ever find themselves.  In a sense, it was more when he'd been than where.  Some physicists even theorize he had skipped aging by a few years compared to those who'd never experienced light speed, or "the C."  Yet, all that was really lacking was any organic feature to the experience.  He felt no space wind on his face.  There was no true sense of acceleration.  Though he was highly-trained, the danger in what he did was so removed from the reality of doing it, that it was almost mythological in his mind.

(excerpt from A History Of Timelessness, by Stephen Allen)