Painted Elder peers out from the hall at his enclosed kingdom, and I turn, following the path of his painted eyes.

The solar lamp’s glare blinds me for a moment, and in that split second of darkness, I realize something I didn’t know before: I don’t need to see the landscape to know every inch of the Feeder Level spread out before me. I close my eyes, and I can still see the rolling fields in perfectly spaced hills. I know the precise pattern of colors of the trailers that make up the City on the far side of the ship. I know the exact point in the metal sky when the rivets holding the roof together get so far away, I can’t really see them anymore. I know the shape of each painted cloud.

I try to dig into my memories for what my house looked like in Colorado, but I can’t remember exactly. The shutters on the windows—were they more brick red or burgundy? What kind of flowers did Mom plant in the front yard?

I know Godspeed now better than I can remember Earth.

“Outta the way, freak,” a hefty woman says, shouldering past me as she leaves the Recorder Hall. I must look like even more of a freak than normal—wearing a jacket when everyone else has short sleeves, standing in the doorway of the Recorder Hall like an idiot.

A young man, slender and tall, stares at me openly as he follows the woman toward the path leading to the Hospital. I pull my hood farther down. He turns his head to look at me as he steps off the stairs, and something in his eyes makes me turn on my heel and rush into the Recorder Hall.

Godspeed has not just replaced Earth in my mind; it’s replaced my home. And it’s inhabited with people who hide dark thoughts behind staring dark eyes.

I shake my head, willing thoughts of both my old home and the man to fall from my cluttered mind. There’s no use thinking about either.

Inside the Recorder Hall is dark and quiet. There are people here, but they ignore me in a way they wouldn’t outside, where the false sunlight streams across my pale skin and the red hair peeking out from under my scarf. They’re focused on the information they’re seeing and understanding for the first time. They’re not concentrating on me.

That’s why I like it here.

There are crowds of people at each of the giant digital screens hanging from the walls. Even though Elder has opened up the entire Recorder Hall to everyone on board, most Feeders stick to examining the floppies—if they come at all. Few venture into the rooms past this one, filled with books; fewer still go to the second and third floors to visit the galleries.

Here, each of the wall floppies is labeled with a different subject—History, Agriculture, and Science are the most popular ones. A crowd of nearly a dozen people peer up at a diagram of a nuclear reactor on the Science wall floppy, arguing in soft tones about some detail in the schematics.