“Nobody needs me here, anyway,” he says to himself.

He gets Awe to fuel a shuttle for him. Awe is Beko’s man, married to Ibidun though much smarter, and his job on many occasions is to keep Lawrence from interfering with the running of Lagos. Otherwise, his team services the Lagos AI.

“Who’s flying you, sir?” asks Awe.

“The on-board AI and I can do it together,” says Lawrence.

“But—”

“Listen, you are young. When you get to my age you start to wonder if you were ever alive in the first place. I need to do this myself. Glory days. You understand.”

“But—”

“Awe. Think. If I’m out there in the Brink, how much trouble can I cause Beko here? I can’t interfere with any Lagos things if I’m in space.”

Especially if I crash and freeze in space.

The end of an inconvenience.

“Yes, sir.” You can almost hear the cogs turn.

“And I want you to feed the carp on level five, pond eight.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fit me for an EVA suit as well. I may be a bit thicker than the last time.”

They give Lawrence the Decisive, which isn’t bad. It’s sturdy, not new, not fast, a bit like him. He waits in a lounge while it fuels and runs self-tests.

He files a flight path to one of the outer asteroid mines. Fuck. Space food. Okay. Lawrence hasn’t been in space for seven years. He lives on the outer layer of the station – the best gravity. Even as he sulks, he can feel the old instincts returning. In the Brink you just make do, because the Brink hates humans.

“What are you doing, Dad? Where are you going?”

He turns to see Joké, a smile that breaks the heart, posture that is doe-like at times. She looks fragile though she isn’t. She barely displaces air, as if her solidity is an argument between existence and ephemera.

“I’ve been calling you all day.”

She squeezes his neck. “Umm, I know. I was ignoring your calls. I saw an interesting mould growth in the mezzanine between four and five on my way to see you. I tried to communicate with it. I read it poetry. Where are you going?”

“I have to help out a friend. The daughter of a friend. There’s a thing on Bloodroot. I can’t let that young lady deal with it on her own.”

“What friend? What young lady, and is she cute?”

“Joké!”

“I’m kidding. But I’m asking for me, not you. Hmm. I’m not really kidding, then.”

“I’m going because her father would do the same for me.”

She plops down beside him. “Good man. I’m coming with.”

“You are not.”

“You need my help, old man. You wheeze when you climb three steps.”

“We have no steps.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

“I’m not going to countenance—”