[January 1, 5034]

  “Happy New Year, boss,” said Demaine Mercury, punching his daughter affectionately on the shoulder.

  That was an old nickname. Ellie’s parents liked to joke, ever since she was young, that Ellie was the real “boss” of the household, that whatever she said went, and that there was no point in pretending otherwise.

  Ellie grimaced at this little bit of teasing, but she was too content at that moment to fire off a barb back at her father. They were both sitting on the top of a slope of blue grass that was waving in the soft winds of dawn, butts directly on the dewy spindles — no blanket or anything. A purple sun was lifting its head over the horizon, turning the sky into a geometric line of blues and reds that reached out their fingers from the awakening disc. The altostratus clouds, drifting forward over the pair at a lazy pace, were soft-green like ripe olives, their parallel bands perfectly syncing up with the lines of light coming from the sun. It wasn’t too warm or too cold, despite the early morning. It was never too warm or too cold on Pepper-57.

  “You’re mean, Daddy,” whispered Ellie. Her young face was pressed against the soft material of his jacket, her cheek against his sleeve, saying the words into his broad shoulder. “I’ve been really good today. I didn’t even complain about the hike this year.”

  Despite her young age, even Ellie was cognizant that she was a difficult child, sometimes. She liked to act out, liked to challenge authority, and since the principal authority in her life was her parents, she often tried to discover the limits of that authority. How many days could she sneak sweets from the top drawer of the kitchen without her mother noticing? How many times could she ‘“forget” to put her plates in the automatic-washer when she was done eating dinner? How would her parents react when she brought home new “boyfriends” and “girlfriends”, who were in reality just classmates from her school? Pepper-57 was a very small colony, and it only had one school. Eventually, Ellie had run out of children her age to play-act with and became discouraged. Now, nobody else wanted to be her boyfriend or girlfriend.

  It wasn’t just rebelliousness that brought forth these childish actions. Ellie was restless, which her parents understood. It was the reason they indulged these more minor infractions without scolding her too hard. The colony was very small and Ellie had explored almost all of it. Its entirety, which was shaped like an oblong bent inward, took just over an hour by car to reach the southern or northern end, where if you vaulted the gates, the walls, and the bored guards sent from the interstellar government, you could, in theory, jump off the edge of the colony, past the artificial gravity, and fall directly into outer-space. Ellie had often dreamed about doing that, but she wasn’t tall enough to clamber over the raised metal gate, and not fast enough to avoid the guards, who by this point recognized her by sight as a precocious and constant annoyance. Instead, she settled with getting her father or her mother, whoever was free that weekend, to drive over to the edge of Pepper-57 so she could see the observation deck that the interstellar government had built a few years ago — as part of its new amenity program to support colonies less than a century old with quality-of-life recreation. There, Ellie would stand for hours on end, while her mom or dad patiently read a book or listened to the no-air radio, looking directly down below her feet past the neo-gravitational glass. She saw the colors of the Leopold Nebula, seemingly suspended in space below the floating oblong of Pepper-57.

  Yellow, red, blue, and green. It looked close. Like all she had to do to reach those beautiful colors was smash the glass beneath her and fall. But that wasn’t true. Even at a very young age, Ellie had understood the incomprehensible immensity of space. Space was big. Space was bigger than big. Like there wasn’t even any point in trying to understand how big it was. It would take a beam of light centuries to reach the nebula sprawled out below her like ink stains in dark water. It would take a girl like her even longer.

  That’s not really fair, Ellie had thought during those moments. I wish I could live long enough to see all of it.

  Ellie had been thinking about all those memories as she looked at the purple sun, but her father’s voice snapped her back to the present. “You didn’t complain, but you looked sad,” he said. “Don’t you like doing this every year with me, watching the first sunrise?”

  She nodded, tucking her small knees against the overalls she was wearing. “I do, daddy. I like the hike, even. I like how it’s quiet and dark and everything is sort of slimy. The leaves are wet.”

  Demaine watched her for a few moments. Father and daughter were nearly identical. The same dark hair and nose, the same enthusiastic animation behind the eyes, the same long limbs. Ellie was only twelve years old and already was the tallest girl in her class — taller than a fair share of the boys, even — and had a fair amount of growing left to do. Assigned calisthenics were not a problem for Ellie at school. She could run, jump, climb. She moved with confidence and determination, but with a bitter expression on her face. Demaine had seen it when the school had organized a race for the Leoro-Anora Festival, which was celebrated every summer in this part of the galaxy. It seemed to him, as he watched his daughter take off in a sprint around the rubber-polyurethane track bound with the meadow, ahead of all the other girls that were participating, that she resented her own ability.

  He had been cognizant of this peculiarity in his daughter, but this year was the first time he realized that she wasn’t bored by her superior athletic ability, or that she felt condescension towards the other girls for not sharing her long legs and speed. It was more like she resented still being on the ground at all.

  The purple sun was a little higher, and the colors were changing again, deepening, lit behind by more powerful rays of light. The blues and reds in the sky lightened like combusting phlogiston, blending together. The olive clouds, acting as a curtain against the light, turned more transparent, revealing the dark swathe of outer space just beyond the reach of the sky and the artificial gravity. It was dawn, and yet there were a million stars blinking above the father and daughter.

  “Oh, heavens,” muttered Demaine, flopping onto his back. He was still talking to his daughter sitting beside him, but all he could see was the sky. “It feels too early to be speaking like this. You’re a restless kid, always have been. You don’t need to worry about going anywhere, yet.”

  Ellie didn’t say anything, though her silence seemed to be confirmation that she knew what her father was driving at. Instead, she started pulling at the leaves of blue grass by her boots, fondling them absent-mindedly between her fingers. The grass was vivid against her dark hands — the color of periwinkle.

  “Where would you go? Demaine continued, straightening back up.

  “I don’t know. Somewhere up there.”

  “You’re smart enough to know neither myself nor your mother will be satisfied with such a vague answer.”

  Ellie pulled out more grass from the wet earth, not looking at her father. “I was thinking about the Macro-Galactic Research Academy… or maybe the junior cosmonauts.”

  She mentioned the cosmonauts second, like they were an afterthought, but it was clear from the tone of her voice that it was the option that she was actually yearning for.

  Demaine sighed. “Those are demanding careers. And they’re a lot of effort. To become a junior cosmonaut you’ll need at least five years of training and education at one of the specialized academies they have — and even then, they might reject you. They only take geniuses. Look at me.”

  Ellie discarded the grass in her hands and looked at her father, her chin up, stubborn before she even knew what he was about to say. The purple light of the New Year sun was illuminating his dark hair and the intense expression in his eyes.

  “Are you a genius, Ellinova?” he said.

  He wasn’t trying to discourage her or make her feel stupid for even suggesting the idea. Demaine Mercury had an extremely honest relationship with his daughter, believing a child can only develop properly when they are treated from the beginning like a human being. So he did not ask the question like many adults ask children questions: to make them feel ignorant for not possessing some type of knowledge or experience that the adult considers obvious.

  He was simply asking her opinion.

  Ellie looked at her father. Slowly, the sour expression she had been wearing since waking up this morning to trek to the top of this hill began to fade into a wide smile. “Yeah, Dad, I am.” Then she winced thoughtfully. “Or, rather… I think I can become one.”

  Demaine's voice was still serious, but a smile was creeping into his eyes. “Nobody has ever questioned your athletic ability, Ellie. And the school tells me your grades are excellent, which doesn’t surprise me or your mother. But it’s not enough. You’ll have to work even harder.”

  “I know.”

  “What do you know about aerouniverse engineering and post-thermophysics?”

  “Not… a lot. Only what I’ve learned at school and studied on my own. But the library here doesn’t have all the books that I wanted. It’s too small.”

  Demaine chuckled at that. “I can put in some orders with my connections at the university I used to work at, get you physical copies or at least the uniweb licenses. Whether you go for the cosmonauts corps or the research academy, you'll need to be pretty knowledgeable in both those sciences to have a shot. You’ve got about two years until you’re old enough to apply. You’ll need to crack the books, dude, and start like… tomorrow.”

  Ellie was shaking slightly, though Demaine wasn’t sure if it was because she was starting to get cold or if her emotions were finally getting to her. Her dark eyes were wide as she looked at him.

  She was a little child, not that long ago, thought Demaine wistfully. Now she’s talking about a career that means I might never get to see her again. When did that happen? What changed in between?

  “You think I can do it?” Ellie asked, pressing her palms together, looking at the grass again.

  At the suggestion of her father’s hand on her shoulder, Ellie looked up.

  “You can do anything,” Demaine replied simply. “My daughter is a genius, after all.”

  Now her eyes did fill with tears. “I love you. And mom. I’m sorry I’m a bad kid. I love you both so much.”

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  “Hey,” he said softly, hugging her against his chest as her head shook with sobs. “I love you too, kiddo. You’re not a bad kid. You’re not. We both love you. After everything, more than anything.”

  They stayed in that embrace for a few minutes. The sun rose higher, its light catching the dew stuck to the grass. The wind was warming up.

  Feeling in the tenseness of her body that his daughter had calmed down, Demaine slowly released her, stroked her hair for a moment, and then clambered to his feet. He had been sitting for a long time waiting for the sun to come up and now felt a great need to stretch his long legs. Then he looked back down at Ellie, an eyebrow raised in a comedic fashion. “And don’t get too excited, we still need to tell your mother. After she kills me, you’ll need to defend your decision all by yourself.”

  The joke made Ellie laugh even though she was still wiping her tears. She mouthed an “Okay” to her father in replacement of a response because her throat felt delicate from crying.

  “Oh heavens,” Demaine said again, turning to face the sky. “I get it. I don’t get it, but I do get it, I guess. You could even call this a natural progression. The sky I cherished so deeply. The glittering dark forever. I wanted to capture its beauty with words… but you… you’re really going there yourself.”

  He didn’t look at her, but his voice was changing, acquiring the cadence of a storyteller, like when he read his work aloud to friends in the dusty common room of the cabin, the thin book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. “This all started a long time ago. About eight thousand years, to be exact. The oldest stories we have, they say that was when humanity gave up its dream of achieving immortality. The boxthorn was stolen by a serpent. So we had to change and adapt. The strategy changed. Each person had to do their best to leave more behind than they had used for themselves. Multiply that by generations, multiply that by centuries. The idea was that we’d eventually get somewhere.”

  Demaine paused. He considered the sun, the sky, the stars, and then finally the very ground beneath his feet, as if he were suddenly becoming cognizant of them and the degrees of effort that had been exerted to make them exist.

  Demaine Mercury was only thirty-five, but he suddenly felt old.

  “And here we are,” he continued simply. “We made it. Not everything is perfect, like we hoped for. But we got somewhere. Ellie, you are a continuation of that responsibility, which is held by every human being that has ever lived. It’s going to be tough. And it’s going to suck, sometimes. But if you’re serious about what you want, then go for it. No questions asked, no excuses. Even if you need to leave your old parents behind. Do your best. Don’t let anybody tell you that something else matters.”

  He let out a small sigh, and then kneeled back on the grass. Ellie was watching her father, eyes wide again, hanging on every word. He seemed to realize the atmosphere was getting more intense than he had anticipated, and so tried to diffuse it with another smile and another stroke of her hair. “From the moment you were born, Ellinova, this universe belonged to you. That was the intention of myself and your mother. Your life, your universe. So buck up. We need to start heading back soon, anyway. Your mother will be making wheat cakes, like always.”

  Demaine punched Ellie affectionately in the shoulder once more. His grin was goofy. “You’re the main character of this story, kiddo.”

  [January 1, 2043]

  “Your father sounds like a poet,” Cal remarked.

  Ellie laughed. “He was, actually. Graduated from the University of Eigen-Sol with concentrations in prosaic histrionics and oral literature. Class of ‘21, the year before I was born. That is to say, that was why he and mother could only afford a little cabin on a distant colony.”

  “Ah, I see.”

  They were sitting at the kitchen table of Otter Manor. Two bowls with the remains of sugary cereal were resting on the laminated wood in front of them, the leftover milk pinkish in color. Cal had learned that Ellie hadn’t eaten since breakfast,but was too tired to cook anything, so he had dug out from the back of the kitchen cabinet the forgotten box of cereal he had gotten in September for strict emergencies.

  He had been listening to many stories about her home and her life with a not insincere interest, but the long events of the day had tired him out and prevented him from concentrating with his full attention. Ellie was also constantly using terminology and referencing places or concepts that Cal had never heard of in his life, which made it difficult to grasp anything beyond just the gist of what she was describing. The term “purple sun” was difficult to imagine, even if you knew the meaning of both words, never mind nonsensical words or names that only carried with them a whiff of contemporary connotation.

  Ellie hadn’t seemed to notice Cal’s confusion, or maybe she just hadn’t cared enough. Her enthusiasm to finally be talking about her past, about the people and places she had left behind, was clearly overwhelming, and she kept talking for an hour without barely taking a breath, leaving little room for Cal to ask for a definition or a clarifying question.

  Eventually, she found a stopping point all on her own and checked her phone. “One in the morning, geez.” She got up from her chair, carried both bowls to the sink, and rolled her neck a few times as she stifled a yawn. “Alright, I’m beat. I’m going to hit the hay. You too, right?”

  Cal rubbed his eyes. “Umm…”

  He blinked heavily several times, as if trying to reactivate his eyeballs. “Bridget was very considerate to not ask too many questions about where we’d been when we came in together. She’s still in the main hall reading her book, isn’t she? I think I’ll go over and talk with her a little, just to get her up to speed. I don’t have university today or for the rest of the week.”

  “Mmm, okay,” Ellie replied tiredly. She had pulled her hoodie so far over her face it was hard to see it, as if she were trying to retreat completely into the soft, warm material. “That’s fine. But seriously, does that woman ever sleep?”

  Cal didn’t answer this query, and when he spoke again, it was about something else entirely. “Is it alright if I… tell the truth? Just lay out everything as I understand it?”

  Ellie shrugged. “I mean, I suppose that’s fine. I wasn’t specifically keeping everything a secret. I just…”

  She repeated the shrug. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

  Without another word, Ellie exited the kitchen, went through the main hall (taking a moment to wave with a forced smile to Bridget, who was reclining fully dressed in one of the leather chairs, reading some romance novel), and made her way up the carpeted staircase. Her fickle mood had soured again, not for any particular reason, but rather due to an accumulation of the weariness, stress, and emotional volatility she had felt throughout this long, long day. She turned on the staircase, stepping up onto the upstairs hallway.

  Sleep. That was what she needed. Fifteen hours, at least.

  Ellie looked up. There was a pair of bright blue eyes sticking out of the wall, narrowed in suspicion, staring right at her. It was a remarkably surreal effect, and it would have surprised Ellie if half a second later she hadn’t realized who the eyes belonged to.

  Ellie sighed. She debated with herself whether it would ultimately be better to ignore the eyes and make her way to her room to sleep, particularly since she could feel her mood dropping like a stone by the second. But then she composed herself, figuring that now was as good a time as any other, and called out in a steady voice.

  “Come on out, Mel,” Ellie said.

  The eyes moved forward, revealing a head emerging from the wall. Mel was glowering at Ellie. She had rings under her eyes, clearly not used to being up this late. Her short black hair was even messier than usual — sticking up in the back and on the sides — like the ghost girl had been rolling on a bedsheet.

  “Are you waiting for Cal?” asked Ellie, in a tone as if she were talking to a young child.

  “Maybe,” Mel pouted, tugging on the sleeve of her sundress, which was beginning to slip off the shoulder of the arm that was coming out of the wall. “He usually doesn’t stay up very late. He’s very punctual about when he gets up or goes to bed, unless there is a change of plans. So, he was with you, wasn’t he? He was supposed to watch a movie with me tonight, but that’s not a problem. …What were you two doing?”

  There was something in the immature and vaguely passive-aggressive manner Mel spoke, compounded with Ellie’s already tired patience, that made Ellie have to bite her tongue to prevent herself from saying an unkind remark. Ellie had always known that Mel didn’t like her very much, though she had never been certain of the specific reason for that dislike. But now she was surprised to realize that the feeling was actually mutual.

  “Does it matter what we were doing?” Ellie said shortly. “Ask him yourself. He’ll be up soon. I think he’s talking with Bridget right now.”

  She slipped in the name of the princess’ attendant on purpose, though there was no particular need for it, and as expected, Mel’s jaw tightened and her eyes glowed with jealousy.

  Doesn’t she ever take a day off from this lovey-dovey attitude? thought Ellie. Doesn’t she ever have anything else to worry about? Oh, I don’t care. I don’t care about these vague notions of romance, of these colliding relationships, of who likes whom. Just confess to him already. Stop sulking in the corner and feeling bad for yourself, like a child. Stop waiting meekly for him to notice on his own, when you know perfectly well he won’t come to any sort of realization when left to his own devices, and don’t resent those who are braver than you are. If you want something, you should pursue it honestly. I just… want to go home.

  Ellie thought all this, but out loud she only said: “There are ghosts in outer space.”

  Mel blinked. The unexpected nature of the words had made her temporarily forget her emotions. “What?”

  “There are ghosts in outer space,” repeated Ellie. “Humans can’t see them on our own. You need to bring with you an alien race that can see and talk with them if you want to communicate, kind of like a medium. But we knew about ghosts long before even making contact with the Fourth Nebula Cluster way back in the fortieth century. Our scientists discovered that by utilizing technology designed to detect and study electromotive fields, they could prove the existence of intelligent, quantifiable bundles of energy that beget themselves through conservation, even after the perishment of physical bodies. Life after death, And they were everywhere. Under the ground, in houses, above the sky. They often floated in one direction, without stopping, until they left Earth itself and went off into space, never to be seen again.”

  “What?” Mel said again, completely blindsided by this explanation.

  “Remember how I wasn’t very surprised to learn you existed? Well, there was a reason for that.” Ellie was talking quickly, rushing the words as if to get to bed faster. “As far as I’m concerned, Mel, you’re a perfectly normal scientific phenomenon. Sure, I’ve never heard of a ghost so cognizant of their surroundings and so willful that they can exist as an almost physical presence, but there’s no reason such a thing shouldn’t be possible with our current understanding of ghosts. Aina and Bridget will tell you something else, but take it from me, there’s nothing supernatural about your condition. It’s just energy, and you get to decide what direction it goes. That is the nature of your existence.”

  She took a breath and fixed Mel with a serious expression. “Mel, I’m a human from three thousand years in your future. I’m a cosmonaut who explores the outer reaches of the universe, and I’m marooned in this time period because of a flux I fell into — a wormhole — and for the last half a year or so I’ve been trying to get back home. That’s why I asked for Cal’s help tonight. I needed his help to contact someone who might be able to get me home. That’s why we came back together. And you can believe me — because you know perfectly well I would invent a less stupid explanation if I was trying to mislead you. I’m not trying to steal him from you. I’m not your competition. I’m a fucking explorer of new worlds and distant galaxies. That’s what I am.”

  Ellie took another breath, and stayed silent long enough for Mel to squeak out a nervous “Okay.”

  “Good,” Ellie dug her thumb into her temple, trying to maintain concentration, even as the hallway around her seemed to be swaying slightly. “Look, I don’t want to have a tense relationship with you. I want us to get along, if that’s possible. Um… me and Cal ran into Bridget when we came back home tonight. She floated out the idea that Aina is trying to organize a little tea party, of sorts. Just all the ladies of the house, no Cal allowed. I’m sure Bridget will give you more details in person tomorrow or the day after. You… you should come. I promise that it’ll be fun for you, even if Cal isn’t there. …Sorry dude, I’m too exhausted right now to think straight. Goodnight, Mel.”

  Ellie left without another word, without even taking the time to look at Mel’s expression. She pushed open the door to room 03, which she always left unlocked. She had forgotten to turn off the light fixture when she left the room this morning. There were many books scattered on the floor, plush spaceships she had gotten from a toy store on the windowsill, and a beefy PC plugged into the wall. Ellie collapsed into her disordered bedsheets, too tired to turn off the light or kick off her boots.

  She dreamed of a festival. Her parents were there, and her fellow cosmonauts. They were all holding hands in a circle underneath a purple sun. Ellie was sitting in the center of the circle, on a chair made of forged iron. Every time she tried to move, to stand from the chair and run into the circle to join her parents and friends, there was a loud gonging noise from above her head, and then she was sitting back in the chair, as if she had never attempted to leave it. Ellie looked up, trying to locate the source of the noise. Above her head danced ten million ghosts.