Of course he did. Haldene Campion, legendary astronaut, immortal because instead of dying like all the other old-timers, he went missing. Legally declared dead, but everybody knows that’s just paperwork. A shadow Shell can never get away from, although she is not sure she wants to. A part of her feels he is still alive somewhere in an eddy of an Einstein-Rosen bridge. She once read that dying in a black hole would leave all of someone’s information intact and trapped. Theoretically, if the information could escape the black hole the person could be reconstructed. Shell often wondered, what if the person were still alive in some undefinable way? Would they be in pain and self-aware for eternity? Would they miss their loved ones?

The TV feed plays The Murders in the Rue Morgue, with George C. Scott streamed to her IFC. The film is dated and not very good, but it keeps Shell’s mind engaged for a while. Next is some demon-possession B movie, a cheap Exorcist knock-off that Shell can’t stand.

Each day lab techs come in for more blood and a saliva swab. It isn’t onerous – a spit and a pin prick.

On day ten, the Ragtime calls her.

“Hello?”

“Mission Specialist Michelle Campion?”

“Yes.”

“Hi. It’s the Ragtime calling. I’m going to be your pilot and the ship controller. I wanted to have at least one conversation before you boarded.”

“Oh, thank you. Most people call me ‘Shell’.”

“I know. I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“It’s not presumptuous, Captain.”

“I prefer Ragtime. Especially if I’m to call you ‘Shell’.”

“Okay, Ragtime. May I ask what gender you’re presenting? Your voice, while comforting, could go either way.”

“Male for this flight, and thank you for asking. Are you ready?”

“I hope to learn a lot, Ragtime, but I have to admit, I’m nervous.”

“But you know what you’re meant to know, right?”

What does Shell know?

She knows everything she was taught about space travel by the best minds on Earth. She knows how to find an edible plant when confronted with unfamiliar vegetation. She can make water in a desert. She can negotiate with people who do not speak the same language as her in case she crash-lands in a place without English or Spanish. She can suture her own wounds with one hand if need be, sinistral or dextral. She knows basic electronics and can solder or weld unfamiliar circuitry if the situation demands it. She can live without human contact for two hundred and fourteen days. Maybe longer. Though she is not a pilot, she can fly a plane. Not well, but she can do it. Best minds on Earth.

What Shell knows is that she does not know enough.

She says, “I hope I’ll have the chance to see things I’ve learned in action.”