Narrator S: Cleo is floating in the center of Steve’s homestead fold bubble. The unlight – no, sun? light? – shines through everything in a way that, at home, would probably cause all kinds of tearrors to happen. But here, this fold is calm and nonreactive. It still has that vaguely humid quality to breathe and to be in, though. 

Silhouettes of fish and plants inhabiting the zero-g fold blob cut through the golden orange glow, casting long dramatic shadows. Everything outside the bubble feels muffled and muted, a jellylike film cushioning Cleo from the rest of reality. Breathing is slower, more effortful. 

Cleo looks down at her arms. Well, IS it down? From her perspective, she seems to be holding still in the center of the cosmos – uh, this cosmos – while all her points of reference circle slowly around her: the distant sun, the less-distant Ship listing at an angle, other fold blobs circling lazily through the empty void,  the Stagecoach here in the bubble with her, the alien’s floating raft house on the surface.

Anyway, she looks down at her arms, her chest, her knees. Her freckles are still lightless, just a slightly darker green than the rest of her skin. Her hair, when it happens to drift across her vision, is a dull desaturated pink shade, like a dried flower. It barely even feels like her body anymore. A passing creature nibbles curiously at a strand before moving on to more nutritious fare. 

Her bioluminescence, the one thing that made her seem kind of special, kind of like a real Guilemoth, is gone. It’s really gone. Her skin hurts from the way she’s been scratching and pinching at her freckles, a futile attempt to bring back what was lost.

Up on the surface of the blob, she sees that the rest of the crew is gathering for some reason. Someone – she can’t tell who, silhouetted as they are at the moment – waves to her: she’s being beckoned. What if she just didn’t respond? What if she just stayed here and never did anything ever again? But her sense of social obligation is too powerful, even on autopilot. She waves back, then pulls herself up – or down? Sideways? Whatever – along the root system of one of these big floating tree things, and returns to the surface.

Narrator M: This… morning? question mark? already has a mournful somberness. The recent deaths of Artifice and Rawfield feel sharp and acute – compared, at least, to the less-recent deaths of Shanamarian, Abel, and Ephraim in the depths. But it has reopened that same painful wound. Not to mention the loss of their entire cosmos and old lives. Yeah, that’s a pretty sharp and acute feeling as well. All these losses were sudden, unexpected, and frankly, hard to accept. 

Narrator X: Everyone has gathered floatingly, zero-gravit-ally, inside of Steve’s fishing shack. 

S: No one slept particularly well.

M: Have you ever tried sleeping in zero gravity? It’s weird. Merlin, for all his expression of polite curiosity, clearly has something on his mind.

S: Here’s how you can tell:

M: (Merlin) “I have something on my mind, and I think, I think I need to talk about it, to get through it.” 

X: The gathered crew turn, hovering in midair inside Steve’s homestead, to examine Merlin. 

S: Steve is quiet, listening, respectful. 

M: (Merlin) “How do we choose to honor the dead? Is there any process or rite that we should observe on behalf of the Mothers? Artifice was always dodgy when I’d bring up the subject to him. Dot, do you know if he or the Mothers at large would’ve had any last wishes or wants?” 

X: The Granddaughter is turning, drifting slowly in midair, technically kind of upside down relative to everyone else, but what even is upside down here? (Dot) “I don’t really know, Merlin. To be honest, I’ve spent my life in the darkness of the Coenobium, and I have never seen any such things practiced by the Mothers. Perhaps they do, but even if they did, it is not known to me. The one thing I do know is that in general, the Mothers tend to acknowledge life’s impermanence, and they tend to move on. They prefer not to enshrine the individual. They prefer to shroud the ego.” 

M: (Merlin) “That’s well and good for him, I suppose. But, I think, I think Mother Artifice would agree with me that those still living are affected by the loss of a person. Is it all right if… Would anyone mind if I said a few words?” 

S: Doleful looks pass between Felix, Tzila, the Biological Man. Felix can’t even muster a joke about Merlin’s speech-giving inclinations. Things are that bad.

X: (Hambing) “By all means. Merlin, please.” 

M: (Merlin) “Thank you. Mother Artifice and Dr. Ripley Rawfield were two of my closest friends. Both lived faithfully in service to others. Mother Artifice was unlike anyone I’ve ever met. His concise way of cutting right to the core of any problem ensured that any conversation, no matter how trivial, always felt impactful. His unique way of delivering insightful observations made for a brutal honesty the likes of which we are unlikely to see again in our lifetimes.” 

S: This evokes some mournful, knowing chuckles from around the room. 

X: Everett’s eyes in particular are shiny as she floats here, receiving a gentle hug from Micky. The Granddaughter is watching. 

S: Cleophee’s eyes are dull. 

M: (Merlin) “Ripley and I crossed paths many times over the years, volunteering at mica lung facilities or attending political forums in the Highest Light. Everything that Ripley touched centered the person – reducing pain, supporting healing, and finding balm for the all-too-often desperate human experience. That was just who she was, through and through, and frankly, I’m, I’m so glad that you all could experience that with me.” 

S: Merlin’s bellows expand and contract – the appearance of a sigh. 

M: (Merlin) “I find myself thinking a lot today about one of the axioms of the Mothers Merciful that Artifice shared with me: to recognize our limitations. To prevent what is possible, and preserve what remains, and to accommodate what is permanent. To be at peace with that which cannot be controlled. But, because he is gone, I’m finding new limitations in my own ability to carry on. It’s funny, in a way. The people I most want to ask how they would want to be remembered are the very people who aren’t here to answer me.” 

X: Merlin pauses for a moment. There is a somber silence, Steve’s pupil, so to speak, smoothly splitting and reforming to gaze at Merlin, at the rest of the crew in turn.

M: (Merlin) “When we gathered for Shanamarian, Ephraim, and Abel’s passing, Ripley spoke to their courage, and how courage reinforces courage that others lack. So, too, I think, both Artifice and Rawfield’s caring helped to teach me why we care. But death is always an interruption to life, to learning, to caring, a sudden end to a person’s story, like a book ending before you’re ready. Not only have we lost them, we’ve lost the parts of each other that they brought out. I’ll never get to argue with Ripley’s cautious warnings or Artifice’s blunt insights ever again. I only have the memories of their caring that I carry on in their stead. 

Whether we can help it or not, humans are composite beings: piles of cells and organs and… bocs, I guess, in at least one case… And maybe fold. Definitely memories. But, we become part of each other, too, simply by dint of time spent together. We might call these composite groups ‘families’ or ‘friends,’ ‘colleagues’ or ‘coworkers,’ but in every case, losing someone close to you means losing that person’s part in others, too.

I think it’s human to see intention, to strive to understand the reasons for things – the why of a thunderstorm, or the meaning of an offhanded remark. Something I was not prepared for, though, is the way that the courage and the caring of our friends continues to live in us all, both devastating and beautiful to behold. We may seek and see the little traces of the friends we’ve lost in a hundred different little ways, telling ourselves that they’re still here even though they’re gone. And whether that’s a story I’m telling myself or not, I continue to be grateful to you all for being here, in this, together.”

S: Merlin concludes his eulogy and looks around invitingly at the others, but no one is quite as speech-inclined as Merlin, certainly not at the moment. 

X: Perhaps the organic crew members are all a bit more fried, or stressed, or lacking in decades of public speaking experience that would equip them for this kind of on-the-spot oration.

M: Is the way that Merlin feels grief different from the way that the others feel grief? Is it less, somehow? No, he’s always been more composed than most. That’s not new. 

S: While the others float in silence, it’s Steve, of all people, who chimes in. We can call him people, right? 

M: …Yeah? 

S: Yeah. 

M: Yeah. 

S: He’s people.

X: (Steve) “Thank you, Merlin, that was… That was very meaningful. I have also lost companions to the Sentinel.” 

S: Heads turn in surprise, in interest. Steve lore?

X: (Steve) “I did not travel here alone,” he says. “I made the journey to this place with two students of mine: Guy,” he says, “and Barbara.” 

S: Felix makes a noise. An impolite noise. 

X: But Steve goes on. (Steve) “Though all three of us did survive the crossing to this place, my students unfortunately both fell to the Sentinel shortly after we arrived. This was before we understood that the Sentinel was drawn to our thought, to our consciousness, to our heightened brain activity. And I watched it take them, both of them, one after the other. And I couldn’t save them. I know how it feels, and I know this kind of pain.”

X: They let Steve sit with that for a minute. It’s hard to tell exactly how he feels. His emotions are a little unreadable in his liquid blinking countenance. He does sound reflective and remorseful, but he doesn’t really look…. Ha ha, well, he looks the way he looks, and that’s just the way it is. 

S: And yet, he seems to understand grief in the same way they do. 

M: Merlin nods, somberly. (Merlin) “Thank you for sharing that, Steve. We will all find a way through this, in time. Grief is a vast emotion, and it comes in waves tinged with other emotions, and if any of you would like to talk or just remember, I am here for you.”

S: After Merlin’s little service, such as it is, Cleo re-submerges herself in the fold blob, drifting off to sit by herself in one of the trees. Well, it’s not really a tree, and it’s not really sitting, either. 

M: It’s dangerous to linger outside of the fold blob with no walls and no tether. You could just go drifting off into empty space with no way to propel yourself. Whereas, hanging out inside the fold blob at least makes it feel like you’re being held or contained. 

S: So Cleo nestles herself amongst the tangled fold-facing roots of one of these large alien plants as though clinging to a rope swing, Princess Shiny backpack cradled in her lap, and tries to imagine she’s at home, in her granny’s garden. Everyone is hurting so much. She feels like she should be fixing things – SHE should be fixing things – cheering everyone up, but she’s so tired. Even in the absence of all gravity, she feels trapped under a crushing weight. 

X: A rustling movement in the root cluster alerts Cleo to the presence of another person, floating closer. 

M: Tzila is pulling herself down – Up. Sideways. Blugh. Some direction – along the roots to hover next to Cleo. She’s looking at her with an expression of cautious concern. 

X: (Tzila) “Hey, Cleo. Um, hey, I really, I hope this isn’t a sensitive subject, but I just, I wanted to ask you… did Omelet make it out of the Ship all right? I just realized I haven’t seen him for a while.” 

S: (Cleo) “Oh, yes, I have him. He’s in my backpack.” 

M: Cleo unfastens the top of her backpack to show Tzila a large gauzy mass wrapped in layers and layers of sticky butter-yellow fibers, many of which have adhered themselves to the inside of the backpack. 

S: (Cleo) “He’s pupating. He wasn’t supposed to do that until he got much older.” 

X: (Tzila) “Oh. Well, uh, the stress of the new environment probably triggered his pupal phase early. But I wouldn’t worry. It’s honestly probably the safest thing for him right now.” 

S: (Cleo) “Yeah. I just miss cuddling him.” 

X: (Tzila) “Well, you’ll see him again soon. And, um… how are YOU holding up?”

S: (Cleo) “Fine! I mean, I mean, not great. No different than anybody else, though.”

X: Tzila appraises Cleo quietly for a moment before she speaks again. 

M: (Tzila) “But it is different. It’s different for everybody. Do you want to talk about it?” 

S: Cleo looks almost panicked or guilty, like she’s been caught at something. (Cleo) “Oh, uh, you, you don’t have to do that. There’s not really anything to talk about. It’s not like a real problem, like how we’re going to survive or figure out a way to get back home. It’s, it’s just that, um, the, the Big Garden isn’t real or whatever.”

X: Tzila’s brow furrows. (Tzila) “What… what’s the Big Garden?” 

S: (Cleo) “Oh, just… just the afterlife.”

M: Something about the way Cleo says that seems like she’s trying to make it sound like no big deal. 

S: Trying and failing. 

X: Tzila goes very still. (Tzila) “Ah. Okay.” She sighs, before following Cleo’s example, weaving her arms and legs amongst the roots of this tree-thing, just enough to allow her to relax without drifting off towards the center of the fold globule. 

M: (Tzila) “First of all, we don’t know exactly where we are or how it’s connected to where we came from. Maybe you didn’t find what you were hoping to find at the end of the Delta, but that doesn’t mean that it doesn’t exist at all. It could still be out there. Maybe you just can’t get there while you’re still alive.”

S: Cleo considers this. (Cleo) “I guess I just didn’t realize how much I hoped it was real. Like, really real, a physical place that you could just go if you let the current carry you far enough. A paradise: flowers everywhere, everyone getting along with each other, happy and safe and eating fruit and stuff. Even if it could still be out there somewhere, I don’t understand how anyone is supposed to get there. All this–!” 

M: She gestures at the sun, the fold blobs, the whole impossible cosmos around them. 

S: (Cleo) “I don’t know how to fit it in with the things that I thought before.” 

X: (Tzila) “People have believed a lot of different things about death,” says Tzila. “Does anybody have it exactly right? I don’t know. If there’s one thing we’ve learned on this expedition, it’s that we barely understand anything. Maybe different things happen to different people. The Big Garden sounds nice, but if I was dead, I don’t think I would want to go off somewhere I’d never been before, far away from everything I’d ever known. Personally? I think I’d wanna stick around the people and places that I loved the most in my life. I’d wanna go home. I think, maybe, that’s what happens to some people.”

S: Cleo smiles weakly. (Cleo) “You’re not trying to tell me the Big Garden is the friends we made along the way, are you?”

M: Tzila laughs, happy to see Cleo exhibit a shred of humor. 

X: (Tzila) “Oh, maybe, I don’t know. Cleophee, I’m as lost as you are. What I’m not trying to tell you, though, is to cheer up. This sucks, and it would be really weird if we weren’t upset about it. I just…” 

M: Tzila sighs, untangling herself from the roots in preparation to leave, and pats Cleo on the shoulder. (Tzila) “We’ve just learned that reality is a whole lot bigger than we thought, not smaller. Don’t give up just yet, okay?” 

S: (Cleo) “Thanks, Tzila. I’m glad you’re here. Not– not like I’m glad that you’re stranded in an alien cosmos, but–” 

M: (Tzila) “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. I get it. I’m glad you’re here, too.”

[A change of scene.]

S: Elsewhere on the blob, the Granddaughter is drifting at the edge of the farm-raft, gazing into space. Everett floats over, and the two of them hover quietly side-by-side for a moment. 

M: Everett speaks. 

X: (Everett) “I’m sorry he’s gone. I know he meant a lot to you. He certainly did to me.” The Granddaughter is quiet and reflective, their dark eyes staring out into space. They’re still wearing their pink heart-shaped shades, hoping to see something, something that explains all of this, something that makes this make sense. 

S: Just don’t look directly at the sun, Dot. Not even with sunglasses on.

X: (Dot) “He was a very special mentor. I wish that I had known him sooner. The Grandmothers only connected us this year, once I became Granddaughter. I wish I could have known him my whole life.” 

M: At this, Dot looks slowly, cautiously, to Everett. 

X: (Dot) “But you, Everett… You did know Artifice your whole life, didn’t you?” 

S: Everett nods.

X: (Everett) “So, I, um. I met Artifice when I was eight, when the Mothers came to help Stationary Hill after Midst’s moon fell. And, um, after what most people in town went through, I… I didn’t think I needed any treatment from the Mothers. I got evacuated with my mom, I was fine. But, um, Artifice, well, he, uh, he found me anyway. And you know how he is. How he was. He just saw right through me. He saw something in me, something real that I was hiding deep down, and um, and he asked if I wanted to work with him to stop hiding it. Because, you know, Artifice helps people who are hiding things. All kinds of things, for lots of different reasons.” 

S: Everett looks directly at the Granddaughter.

M: The Granddaughter’s eyes flicker, but they don’t move. 

X: (Everett) “Things that hurt them. Things they lie about to others. Things they lie about to themselves, most of all. Things they’re scared of, things they want, things they’re scared they want.”

S: The two of them just kind of look at each other for a moment.

M:  A long moment. 

X: (Everett) “But the Mothers obviously can’t help you if you aren’t ready to help yourself, or if you don’t really believe or trust or commit to what you know is true for you.”

S: Dot blinks.

X: (Everett) “And trusting in what’s true for me is probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s been like thirty-something years, and I’ve visited with Artifice a ton of times, and he and a bunch of other Mothers at a bunch of different Lazarettos have helped me find what’s true for me bit by bit, but there’s just still so much that I just can’t seem to make real for myself, because… There’s just this little voice that just always tells me I’m wrong, or I’m imagining things, or making a mistake. And that doubt has just held me back so much. Who would I be now if I just trusted myself more, sooner, wasn’t scared, didn’t doubt? Would I be happier with myself, how I am, how I feel, how I look, how I sound? I dunno. Maybe. Maybe not. So often I just still feel like I’m pretending, like who I am isn’t real. Like no matter how much the Mothers help me, no matter how much of me is now literally a grown-ass woman, I just feel like I’m still that little eight year old who I and everyone else still sees as the boy that he was raised as, who he hated being. The fear and the doubt… I still can’t beat ‘em. And that’s limited me a lot.”

S: She gives Dot a little smile. 

X: (Everett) “But you? You did it! You’re a Granddaughter. And you got paired with Artifice, no less, and that means that you… You overcame whatever was hidden and hurting you. And you’ve mastered the fear, you’ve mastered the doubt, and I look at you, and you’re just so at ease and at home, and you’re so ready to become yourself, and I… I’m sorry, that’s just my problem, it’s my jealousy, it’s my own frustration with me and how I can’t fucking DO that myself, no matter how hard I fight for it or want it or know it. And it’s really inspiring, but it’s also just really frustrating to see someone so young like you who has just DONE it. I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you. There’s no excuse for that. The truth is, I just wish I was more like you.”

S: That’s a lot for Dot to sit with. 

X: They are trying to hold it together, and, maintaining that facade of calmness – 

S: out of sheer habit, if nothing else –

X: they say, (Dot) “Artifice saw you? Really?”

Everett laughs. (Everett) “Yeah, the first time he and my mom were talking, they, uh, he was telling her all about her daughter. And, uh, she was confused, because she didn’t think she had a daughter at the time. And, uh, Artie told her, told me, it was obvious. That any ‘OBSERVER AWARE OF TRUE THINGS’ could just tell. And, um, I just wish I believed in me as much as he did. He basically saved my life. Twice.” 

M: She looks at her opalescent fold scars, 

S: like spatters of colorless lightless paint. And then, she looks around at the weird alien expanse around them. 

X: (Everett) “Three times, now, actually. All of us, this time.”

S: A slow increasing chatter of other voices, as other people – and Steve, who is, as we established, also people – begin to emerge from the weird shack. There is a sense of some burden having been lifted, alleviated slightly, after Merlin’s service. 

X: (Everett) “You had a very special teacher, Granddaughter,” Everett says quietly, “and you’re obviously a very special student. I know you’re gonna make a great Mother.” 

S: Ooh, Dot can barely stand this. 

X: They are right on the edge, about to lose it, almost tempted to spill it all to Everett. 

S: Would that be so bad? Would that be so wrong? 

X: Maybe it would be fine. Maybe it would be great. Maybe it would feel wonderful. 

S: Isn’t that what Artifice was telling them?

X: But… they don’t. The Granddaughter is not ready. And together they both stare out into the dark, the distant blackness of the expanse. 

S: The Mothers can’t help you if you aren’t ready to help yourself.

X: (Dot) “Thank you, Everett. That means a lot.” And then the expanse brightens. 

M: There is a blooming of heat and light. 

S: Unlike when it dimmed and focused spotlight-style, the sun now does the opposite: 

X: A flaring, an intensifying. And the entire blob belt begins to surge, to orbit with greater speed, like a dam opening. A swirling, an enlivening–

M: Everett grabs Dot, pulling them toward cover.

S: But then there is a dimming, a relaxing, like the long exhalation following a deep breath in. 

X: And the sun… fades again, returning to its previous dim intensity. 

S: And the solar system of fold, including the globule they currently inhabit, slows its orbit again. 

M: The sun is back to normal. All is again as it was.

X: (Everett) “What the fuck?” Everett says. People are coming out of Steve’s hut, voices calling, “What was that? Did you see that?” 

M: (Merlin) “What happened? We were inside and didn’t get a good look.”

X: (Hambing) “Everett, Dot, are you okay?” Steve is moving, hovering rapidly to the front of the group, holding up limbs placatingly.

S: (Steve) “Don’t be alarmed. The sun does that sometimes, and there seem to be no ill effects – just a speeding-up of the cosmos.”

X: Everyone’s looking at each other, looking at Steve. 

S: (Steve) “A sudden rush, a gushing. Not problematic! It’s not related to the Sentinel’s movements.”

X: This, at least, is a bit of a relief. No Sentinel, that’s good. The group gathers at the edge of the homestead near where Everett and Dot recently concluded their conversation, Cleo and Tzila gliding into their midst as well, discussing the flare, the sun, speculating. 

S: Steve is astounded by their descriptions of how it looked. He doesn’t see things in the same way. He doesn’t really have eyes like theirs. So, apparently, their way of perceiving it is pretty cool to him. 

M: How cool for Steve to make friends with a bunch of aliens!

X: There is a certain amount of jubilance now, some activation of the senses, the sorrow, the sense of loss momentarily pushed away by the enlivening of the sun. The group is talking animatedly, discussing, theorizing, and Everett is trying to get everyone’s attention. (Everett) “Hey!” she calls. “Yes, I know you all saw the sun light up. We all saw that. But forget that. Did anyone else see WHAT the sun lit up?” And at this, the group falls a little bit quiet. 

S: Felix says, (Felix) “We weren’t looking at that. We were worrying we were about to be disintegrated.” Micky is looking at Everett knowingly, though. (Micky) “You and your hawk eyes. What did you see?”

X: Everett seems hyped. She floats in front of the group, turning, gesturing out into the void. (Everett) “There’s something out there! All that darkness, it’s – it’s not the black of nothing, it’s the black of something. There’s something everywhere, all around us, at the edges of the sun’s brightness. You didn’t see it? There’s something surrounding this expanse.” 

M: She looks excited, maybe also scared? 

X: Eyes bright, dark amber sunshine illuminating the side of her face, gleaming strangely upon her fold scars. (Everett) “I don’t think we’re in a void at all. We’re inside a hollow sphere.”