question:  Why couldn’t David move after he first opened his eyes?
context: The mesh-covered hole and the two lights looked like a caricature of a face, set in a panel of dials. I reached down to the tightness that held my body, found the wide strap that held me and fumbled with the buckle. There was no sensation of place, no feeling of up or down, no direction. I rubbed them across my face, feeling the solidity of flesh and bone, afraid to think too hard about myself. After the first shock of looking out, I accepted the fact that I was in a space ship, yet I couldn't read the maps that were fastened to a table, nor understand the function or design of the compact machinery. It was the only thing I saw that could help me, guard me against another shock like seeing outside of the clear portholes. He was as still as death, motionless without warmth or breath as I hovered over him. The eyelid remained open until I closed it and went on. I dared not try to operate anything. Everything lay in readiness, fastened down star charts, instruments, glittering equipment. It waited for human hands to make it operate. I sat in the deep chair facing the panel of dials and instruments, in easy reach. The ports on the side were shielded and I stared out at static energy, hung motionless in a world of searing light. There was no distortion, no movement outside and I glanced back at the dials. What speeds and perhaps, what distance? I went from the nose to the last bulkhead in a frenzy of floating motion, looking behind each door until I went as far as I could. They both ended in the lead shield that was set where the swell of the curve was biggest. It meant the engine or engines took up half the ship, cut off from the forward half by the instrument studded shield. I had literally been reborn in this room, equipped with half ideas, and no point to start from, no premise to seek.
output:  He had a wide seatbelt on.
options:  He was in suspension.  He was in a tight space.  He had a wide seatbelt on.  He was weightless.