Page 93 of The Brightness Between Us

I perch at the foot of his bed. The moment I do, my every instinct is to leap back to my feet. Dad is recovering from being shot by my brother, that brother is in restraints, a shock wave is bearing down on us through the dense core of an uncaring planet—it’s a little hard to relax.

“We’re going to be in here for three years,” Dad says. “Not going anywhere, but still on a sort of voyage.”

“A voyage through time and not through space,” Yarrow says from the corner, putting on a mock documentarian tone. It’s undeniable: even though he’s now literally the most remorseful human in the universe, he’s still a little creepy. That brain edit can’t come soon enough. We also don’t know yet how long-term the effects of his time out under the comet’s radiation will be. He’s got plenty of reasons to be deep in his feelings.

“There will be much to do,” Dad continues, “and you’ll have your studies and recovery from your upcoming surgeries to occupy you. For the remaining time, I have a plan.”

He pauses. While I wait for him, my mind races between the various ways we’re going to die. I look at him, replay the words he just said and actually process them this time. “You have a plan? What’s the plan?”

Dad smiles, which turns into a wince as the movement triggers some soreness in his gut. “There’s a feature of theCoordinated Endeavorthat was once used to trick us, but which you might now enjoy.”

I squint. “Dad. What are you talking about?”

“Yes, whatareyou talking about?” Father asks, not looking up from his knitting. He’s making a blanket for Yarrow, to replace the one that’s now binding his wrists.

I wait for Dad to answer. He goes motionless, like he’s been paused. Ever since his gut wound, he sometimes drops out of the world for a few seconds.

I listen to the hum of theAurora’s reactor while I wait for him to speak. The ship will never move through space again, but we’ve activated its life-support system to provide light and air. Since it was designed to be operated in a dark vacuum, the ship is perfectly suited to being underground. We have artificial daylight to keep our algae growing to augment our stored supplies, and we will capture moisture from the air and recycle it, just like on the ship’s original voyage. TheAurora’s nuclear reactors can keep going for a few hundred thousand years more. Hopefully it won’t take that long for the comet’s aftermath to finish. Three yearssounds much more tolerable.

The most surprising thing: theAuroraturns our atmosphere into an approximation of Earth’s surface, not Minerva’s. I’ve never experienced it until now. Less nitrogen, more oxygen. It makes my brain feel fizzy and alive. I could definitely get used to it.

Dad finally starts speaking again. “I thought maybe you could use... some distraction while you wait to emerge and go exploring what remains of the Minervan high seas.”

“Yes, definitely. So whatisit?” I say impatiently.

He coughs and looks toward the ceiling, as if he can see through it to the searing surface of the planet, its stormy red seas of melting rock. To the ocean Yarrow discovered, vaporizing as we speak—hopefully to re-form, with some of the life inside it surviving. “OS, simulate the trip to Saturn’s moon Titan, as experienced by Ambrose Cusk and Kodiak Celius, supposedly in the year 2472.”

The windows were black before, just showing us the tightly packed soil on the other side of their surface. Now they spark into life, displaying images.

Images of space.

These are stars in formations I’ve never seen before. A beautiful and random pattern of lights, rotating with the simulated motion of a ship. Like they once did for my fathers’ clones. One cluster of lights looks like a dipper. People on Earth used to talk about this dipper.

“I wasn’t sure which part of the voyage you wanted,” OS says, “so this is the moment when the clones were first awakened. Still well before nearing Saturn. With quotation marks around ‘nearing Saturn,’ of course.”

Dad and Father, waking up on opposite sides of the ship. Not yet aware that the other even exists.

“Highlight Saturn’s position,” Dad requests. Yarrow sits taller, rapt. He’s getting one of the no-filter history lessons he spent the last year craving. He might not have predicted that his hands would be bound while he got it, though.

OS places crosshairs on what at first looks like a star wheeling through the sky. Apparently that’s actually a planet. I think I can see a ring around it, now that I’m looking closely. “Highlight Earth,” I request.

The crosshairs switch to emphasize a small blue circle, a moon tagging along it like a faithful pet. “That’s our home?”

“No, this is home. Minerva is home,” Yarrow says. Typical Yarrow, earnest in the midst of all this, even with all that’s happened, the shame of what he’s done and the pain of his burnt skin.

“I can request OS make it so that this simulated journey to Titan lasts approximately the same time as it will take us to emerge post-comet,” Dad says. “I thought we could all take that journey together.”

“But only in a fake way,” I say, suspicious. I press myforehead against a screen, looking left and right. Nary a pixel. No wonder the dads’ old clones believed so fully that they were on their way to rescue Minerva.

It’s easy to imagine convincing myself even just a week from now that we actuallyareon a voyage across Earth’s solar system. How could we find any evidence otherwise? It’s not like we can go outside for confirmation. No wonder some of the dads’ clones lost their minds.

Dad means for this to be a pleasurable distraction during the time we’re stuck in theAurora. A pretend rescue mission. I don’t think he’s wrong—any distraction will be welcome, I’m sure. But it’s also horrifying. And it’s giving me a little vertigo.

“You know who also took this journey, once upon a time?” Dad asks.

“Thissimulatedjourney, you mean?” I say.

“Simulated for us, sure. But real for that person, who lived long ago.”

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