He folds his arms and straightens his back. I look away as three Belvish Officials walk past and greet Orcher. He gives them a friendly ‘hello,’ and waits until they’re gone before he speaks again.

“It will get better, Arman. I know times have been difficult this year, but you’ve stayed strong.” He clasps his hands together and leans forward. “Thank you for that, for not giving up. It’s the last thing your father would have wanted, and Lawrence, too.”

I lean forward, too. It strains my neck to hold it up, so I let it hang loose and close my eyes. I hear Orcher breathing beside me, hear the feathery swoosh of the leaves as a breeze blows through. Bumps rise on my arms and a chill runs up my back. The longer I listen, the tighter my chest swells. It feels empty, empty in a sad way, a way that makes me wish I could sit here and listen to the trees and feel the wind and smell the air forever.

On Friday afternoon, Glacia and I eat an early dinner then ride the maglev train to the docks and fly south to the Hania Reserve. Glacia pilots the Molter, not me, even though that was our original plan. It does me good to relax. I can close my eyes and feel my chest expand as I breathe. The sensation loosens my body and slows my thoughts.

I must drift off for a while, because it doesn’t feel like we’ve flown longer than ten minutes before the Molter shudders and the hum of the engines fades to silence.

Glacia squeezes my hand. “We’re here.”

I open my eyes: the elevated platform we landed on is surrounded by a sloping field of orange grass. A forest stands a short distance away down the hill, and beyond it is a rocky plateau. The sun is more than halfway to the horizon, so we still have about three hours of light left.

We climb out the hatches and meet in front of the Molter. A display at the edge of the platform reads: Hania Reserve, North Trails. A map shimmers below it, showing all the fields and forests and mountains and lakes and rivers that make up the park.

Glacia tugs my hand lightly and we step off the platform onto a clean-cut trail that follows the hill into the trees. Sunlight penetrates the gaps in the canopy, casting bright contorted shapes among the shaded forest floor. And the smell: a cool breeze swirls the ripe aromas all around us.