I don't know what year it is. I sure as hell know that the year isn't 1970. Cryosleep technology wasn't invented in 1970. I don't even think that we had any form of spacefaring technology in 1970, yet here I am shivering from sub-seventy K cryo-rejuvenation fluid. That's what the cryovat says at least, to wake me up on January 1st 1970. I clamber out of the vat, and try to get the cryofluid off of me. The cold metal walls and the very dim illumination aren't helping out either. I want to throw up. Fuck.
Eventually, I clamber out of the dim cramped room and open a hatch leading to a tunnel of sorts. Judging by every room I've been in so far, I guess this entire ship hull is incredibly cramped. This tunnel reeks of rust and leaky pipes. It's in a hexagonal shape, with some grating hovering over many unmarked wires, and to the sides of the hallway are pipes carrying what I can only assume to be gas. The lights emit a small red light barely illuminating the tunnel. I guess this ship hasn't been touched in almost a thousand years. There's nowhere else I can go really, so I head through. The smell of rust overwhelms my sense of smell and I topple over. I fucking hate this place already.
And yet I push through. I push myself up from the grating and hold my nose with my left hand, walking through the tunnel until I come across an intersection. Forward, left, and right, are my only choices. I can see the door forward, so I walk forward and open the door. Yet another cramped metal room with dim lighting. However, several computer screens blind my eyes and my sight. I rush in and shut the door behind me to escape the iron oxide smell. Slowly as my eyes adjust to the light, I creep towards the computer screens and read.
Oh.
I inspect the logs myself. I rush to the keyboard and begin executing commands in a desperate attempt to prove my assumptions wrong. The ship has only recorded the past 50 years as to maximize disk storage.
Oh god.
There has been nothing for 50 years.
No requests to communicate.
No natural transponder signals.
No distress signals.
No nothing.
It's all just natural cosmic noise.