They met in the cavern the caretakers had sealed away. Dim light filtered in from above, glinting off the towering crystals that reached down from the ceiling. A brief vision of Seph falling into the darkness flitted before her eyes. The crystals had spilled toward him in that pit, drawn to his pain and anxiety, overwhelming Aster in turn when they had visited this cavern together.

“This place was most affected by the memories of your colleagues,” Aster said.

“You reacted strongly to them when we first spoke.”

“Indeed. I did not know their memories had become embedded here—nor did I realize my own emotions had manifested in such a dramatic way.”

“What memories of yours are left here?” Kendra asked.

He raised his hand to a long crystal, and it creaked toward him, a soft glow suffusing it like ink spilling into water. “Many are mere shadows. Little things that only hold significance when woven into the tapestry of my own thoughts and feelings.”

Kendra held her palm to the cool, glassy surface, and scenes filtered into her mind, passing like water through her fingers. “I see a city with glittering towers. A smile from a friend. A vast library. The images are fond, but hazy and tinged with melancholy.”

“They are places and people I lost, and it is difficult for me to think of them without sadness.” He shook his head. “But my memories lie within me. These crystals are physical manifestations created by my inability to process my grief.”

His shoulders were slumped, and Kendra sensed from the faraway look in his eyes that the memories he was revisiting had barely faded in the years he spent here. “Even now, I keep trying to make sense of it, but I can’t,” he said. “We were attacked by beings who wished to reshape our world for their own purposes. Instead, they destroyed our dimension, leaving nothing behind.” Aster rubbed his thumb over his palm, tugging at the skin there. “I spent so long combing through the ship’s database for information on our apparent enemies, trying to understand them. But my only conclusion was that they were opportunists. Many of them likely perished as well when our dimension collapsed. What a waste.”

“Some things are difficult to make sense of. I can’t ascribe any special meaning to why I ended up with a shorter lifespan than others,” Kendra said. “It was just bad luck. I could have wished for the right treatments to extend my lifespan or even become involved in that research myself. Instead, I decided to experience as much as I could, even if I wouldn’t have as much time as my friends will.” She huffed. “One could argue that cramming as much into my life as possible led me here, to a place where my life was instead cut even shorter than it should have been.”

“But that isn’t your fault,” Aster said.

“I know. And as much as I hate being in limbo, I am grateful the machines saved me. That they gave me a little more time.” Kendra raised her fist into the air, and the crystals slowly shifted, pointing toward her. The light glowed from purple to a deep red, and she unclenched her fist. Cracks spread, growing into deep fissures as the crystals split apart. In seconds, they were nothing more than sand and spilled to the floor in a cloud of dust.

Aster’s eyes glinted in the low light as he stared at the empty space on the ceiling. “Amazing. Did it cause you pain to break them down?”

She shook her head. “No. I imagine the pain is yours alone, and like you said, most of it remains in your mind, not in these physical remnants.” Kendra turned her hand over, peering at the dust glittering on her skin like tiny points of light. “Yet, I can feel a subtle shift, like something was released.”

“As do I. Would you mind if I returned to the cavern below? Knowing you are helping gives me the strength to believe I can do this as well.”

“Go ahead. I’ll meet you later.”

It was as Aster had said; the memories here were small remnants of a greater experience, little pieces left behind. Kendra knew those remnants in her own memories as well: tiny things insignificant in isolation.

The soft blue shirt she wore the day Jerome passed away. The white glass vase beside their bed that he always filled with fresh flowers. The dried petals left on the floor beneath the dresser—when all the furniture was gone and she was ready to leave the home they had shared, she had found them, small and unassuming on the floor. She remembered looking back at that empty room with its gleaming wooden floors and the dust motes sparkling in the warm afternoon light. And she had felt as empty as the house.

Kendra held her hands in the air, and the crystals erupted in red light as they crumbled. The dust rained down around her, releasing the energy Aster had unwittingly poured into them. She held her head high as she worked, chest burning with pride that she could have this tangible effect upon the world around her.

She turned to the pit in the floor, where the light danced over the glassy surfaces, and she imagined walking into an immense geode. As she approached, memories flitted at the edge of her mind. She touched the nearest crystal and closed her eyes.

She saw Antony in the mirror. He washed his hands in the bathroom, a bored expression on his face, and he adjusted his hair—brown with no traces of gray. Antony looked younger than Kendra remembered ever seeing him, maybe just out of graduate school. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he left the room, passing through an empty hallway and out onto the street.

It was evening. A single moon rose between the silver skyscrapers in the distance. At the end of the street, a massive conference center waited, with streetlights gleaming off its metallic dome. Antony looked askance at it.

Man, there’s that keynote later tonight, he thought. Don’t even know if I want to go.

As he walked, a group of four exited a restaurant nearby, laughing and chattering. Conference lanyards hung around their necks, and Antony snorted. Bunch of nerds walking around with their lanyards flapping in the wind.

“You ready for tonight?” a woman asked.

“Sure hope so,” said a tall, thin man. The breeze tousled his fluffy blond hair, which landed on his forehead and partially obscured his face. But he was undoubtedly handsome, with a sharp jaw and high cheekbones.

Hope you’ve got a presentation because I’d be checking you out, Antony thought.

The memory shifted, and Antony stepped into a crowded auditorium, grumbling internally as people brushed past him. He took a seat at the end of the aisle in the center of the room: not too far back that he couldn’t see, not too far forward that he couldn’t sneak out. The conference staff fussed with something, and he crossed his arms, debating whether to stay.

The man from earlier strode onto the stage. Enormous screens on either side of the auditorium lit up, displaying his face and the title slide of his presentation.

It was Seph. Younger, but unmistakably him.

He can’t be that much older than I am—how is he the keynote speaker already? Antony thought. Also, he’s adorable and now I definitely have to stay for this presentation.

When the presentation was done, Antony let out a long sigh. What a rock star. And he didn’t seem like a giant snob, either. He wandered into the reception area. For a moment, Seph stood off to the side, alone, and Antony moved toward him. All you have to do is say he gave a good talk. Just go up to him. If that’s it, that’s it.

But as he approached, a crowd appeared at Seph’s right, engulfing him.

“Great keynote presentation! I knew you’d be fantastic,” a woman said.

“I believe congrats on your grant are in order as well,” a man said.

Antony stopped, turning away. Ah well. Not even like he knows who I am.

Back in the cave, Kendra blinked as the surface beneath her fingers crumbled. The reaction sent the other crystals in that pit wobbling forward, drawn to her, and she touched the next closest one.

She hunched over a computer, tapping at a message.

Hello Antony,

I don’t know if you remember me but—

He backspaced.

Greetings! Hope you’re doing well.

“Ugh,” Seph said and ran his fingers through his hair, and as he looked away from his computer, he glimpsed his reflection in the window. Kendra noted he was older, the lines beneath his eyes more pronounced. He bit his lip as he turned back to the keyboard.

Hi! We met at the conference a few months back. I know we didn’t really talk, but we were at dinner that one night and—

“Oh my god,” Seph said, hanging his head. “Why is this so hard? Because it’s a terrible idea?”

There was a brief flash of memory within the memory. Antony was there, separated from Seph by a table and several other people. But his laughter was loud, and his eyes were bright in the low light of the restaurant. The scene blurred, and Antony was dragging a whiteboard into a hallway with one hand, a drink held loosely in his other. Though the clock read 1:30 in the morning, a crowd was gathering. He pointed at a man.

“Right, here we go. You wanted to know my problem with the electron microscopy images in that presentation, and my problem is that they are useless. Why? Sample preparation methods.” He picked up a marker, and it squeaked as he drew a series of diagrams. Seph stood transfixed, his gaze flicking between Antony as he explained the science, and his hand languidly holding a marker, and his hair curling across his forehead.

Seph put his fingers back on the keyboard.

Hello Antony,

I’m not sure you remember me since we only met in passing, but we were at dinner with Susan on Friday at the conference. I’ve read some of your work and found it very insightful. I wanted to contact you about an opportunity for an expedition on the research vessel MANDRAGORA.

It’s a two-year mission with six stops on various research stations and colony outposts. I haven’t signed on yet, but they’re looking for someone with drone and noninvasive scanning expertise, and I thought of you.

He scanned the message and sighed. There was a soft ping, followed by a notification of a new message. Research Collaboration, the title read.

His eyebrows quirked up of their own accord. “From Bria?”

Greetings Seph,

My university has awarded me funding for an independent researcher position within my lab facility. This is not a postdoctoral researcher position; you would have significantly more freedom. Let me know if you have any interest, and we can discuss.

Best regards,

Bria

He thought back to his last expedition on a research vessel. Cramped lab space and crowded rooms. MANDRAGORA was supposed to be better, but …

He deleted the draft to Antony.

The images faded as the crystal broke apart, sending cracks through all the other columns. They turned to dust, leaving the pit empty. As she stood back, a whirl of shadow billowed up from the floor below, and Aster stood beside her, his eyes wide.

“Kendra, it’s working!”

He pointed toward the towers, which glowed brighter than she had seen them before. “I think you should speak one on one. I’ll be here if you need me, but you should have the opportunity to ask questions without me hovering beside you.”

She nodded. “Alright, then I’m going in.”

The ship’s control room was brighter than it had been when she was last here, and the walls glowed with subtle patterns. The back of her neck prickled as if someone watched her, and she halted before the strange columns that made up the ship’s console.

“Hello, my name is Kendra,” she said. “I don’t believe I introduced myself properly when we first spoke.”

“It is good to meet you, Kendra,” the ship said. “I am the mind of this vessel. What would you like to discuss?”

“Your medical technology. Last time, you mentioned a process that might help me. Do you have sufficient power to perform that procedure?”

“I do. Would you grant me permission to speak with you in your mind? I believe it would help facilitate our conversation.”

“You have my permission.”

Kendra sat on a bench in a pavilion, a flagstone path beneath her feet. Wildflowers grew along the sides of the path, swaying in the breeze. Nearby was a white gazebo with ivy climbing its walls.

“What am I seeing?” she asked.

“This is a co-creation, a product of your mind and my database,” said the ship.

“To make me more comfortable? It’s nice.” She reached down to touch the grass. It was a deep purple and soft. “Reminds me of where I grew up.”

“I am glad.”

She stood, walking nearer to the gazebo. “I want to learn more about this procedure.”

“Through clinical research and collaboration, we developed a method to translate the minds of physical beings into an incorporeal form,” the ship said. “I sense discomfort at the idea. That is understandable.”

“Well, I did interface with a machine that rummaged around in my mind like I was a box of old books,” she said.

“Such behavior is unacceptable,” the ship replied. “Our research was done with great respect for the comfort and safety of our participants.”

Past the gazebo, two long pools of water sat on either side of the flagstone path, and Kendra walked along them. “I trust you more than I trusted the Asteracean AI, but I have questions about incorporeal existence. Has this translation process ever gone wrong?”

“I will share the research with you. From a technical standpoint, the procedure succeeded in 100% of participants. All 583 participants successfully achieved an incorporeal form.”

“When you say an incorporeal form, you mean like that of Aster, correct? A form that can move and change and still interact with physical reality to some extent.” Kendra kicked a small rock toward the water, and it bounced across the surface before sinking. “The machine in the ruins offered to preserve me in its database. I declined.”

“Our process would not simply leave your mind in a static database. You would have the ability to travel and change your form. It is likely you will need to relearn how to interact with physical reality, but that will be a matter of practice.”

“That offers me some relief. But tell me, how did the participants in the study feel about their new forms? Because I want to be me; I want to know that my mind will be intact.”

“Cognitive function was assessed before and after the procedure, with no loss in executive function, attention, or learning and memory.” A panel of light appeared in the air before her, displaying the data from the original research. She perused it, scrolling through the pages with her fingers.

“So I would still be me,” Kendra said. “My consciousness just wouldn’t be housed in my physical brain anymore. My body would be gone.”

“That is correct. Each incorporeal being is unique, their form an outgrowth of their mind. Both the mind and form are malleable, and you would gain all abilities associated with this manner of existence.”

“I could travel through space and go anywhere, in my dimension or elsewhere.” Kendra paused. “Isn’t that an immense gift to give someone?”

“We do not conceptualize this procedure as a gift. The goal is to provide medical intervention for those in need, and to allow physical beings to attain a novel form of existence, should they choose it,” the ship said.

“Does the incorporeal body possess something equivalent to a brain? How does one form memories or keep a stable sense of self?” Kendra asked.

“An energetic network fulfills that role. As you know, the brain is sensitive to physical and chemical perturbations. While the energetic network is not sensitive to these factors, it remains sensitive to emotional experience. In this way, mental health can impact one’s energy levels and abilities. Difficulties with mental health may also manifest directly in the surrounding environment.”

“I’ve gathered as much,” Kendra said. “Can you help Aster? Because he is still in considerable pain.”

“That pain cannot simply be removed from him. He may manage it so that it does not manifest in physical reality. I can offer him my recommendations, but he must be the one to implement them.”

“I see.” The answer didn’t surprise her, but on some level, she had hoped the ship might be able to offer him more relief. Instead, that would have to come from him, but maybe leaving this planet would help. And she could leave with him if she gained the power to travel as he once had. “I need time to think, but tell me—what comes next if I decide I want to undergo this procedure?”

“Return here. We may begin, or you may ask further questions.”

“Thank you. I will consider everything you’ve told me.”

She left the ship, and Aster jumped to his feet. “What did you learn?”

“The ship may be able to help me,” Kendra said, and her mind raced with the possibilities. Leaving the planet. Exploring stretches of the universe no physical being had ever visited. Traveling with Aster.

His face broke into a grin, and he crossed the few feet between them, grasping her shoulders. “That’s wonderful! Though I admit, you look like you have much on your mind.”

She smiled at the sudden burst of emotion from him. “I do, but I’m grateful to you for your help. It’s a lot to process, to consider putting my existence in the hands of technology I don’t fully understand.”

Aster folded his hand delicately beneath his chin and surveyed her expression. “The ship’s technology is advanced and the procedure it describes is beyond my understanding as well. In our world, I was more of an archivist than a scientist. Yet I have faith that the research behind this procedure was conducted ethically and rigorously.”

“I believe you. Still, it seems my best hope of leaving the planet would mean losing my body. It’s likely my body won’t survive either leaving this place or remaining here, but it’s hard to think about losing it.”

“I can imagine,” he said, and there was melancholy in the lines on his face, as if he wasn’t sure she would choose such a thing, even to save her life.

She rested her hand on his shoulder. “But even if I lose my body, there is still so much I could gain.”