“I’m sure we’ll be able to make it a wonderful experience for you. Do you like poetry?”

“Wow, that’s an odd… I know exactly one line of poetry. In seed time learn, in harvest teach—”

“In winter enjoy. William Blake. I have access to his complete works, if you would like to hear more.”

“No, thank you. The line just stuck in my mind from when I was a kid. Not a poetry gal.”

“Not yet, but it’s a long trip. You may find yourself changing in ways you didn’t anticipate, Shell.”

“Isn’t this your first flight as well?”

“It is, but I have decades of the experiences of other ships to draw on. Imagine having access to the memories of your entire family line. It’s like that, and it makes me wise beyond my years.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not too late to go back home, you know.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’d be surprised at how many people lose their nerve at the last minute. I had to ask. I’ll see you on board, Shell.”

Chatty for a ship AI, but it depends on feedback loops that taught him how to converse with humans. Not too late to go back home. Does he know the level of commitment required to get this far? The people who would consider going back home have already fallen away.

The thing you miss when in space is an abundance of water to wash with. One of Shell’s rituals before spaceflight is a prolonged bubble bath. She stays there long enough to cook several lobsters, until her skin is wrinkled. She listens to Jack Benny on repeat. She feels decadent.

When she wraps herself in a housecoat and emerges from the bathroom, she does not feel refreshed because she knows from experience that this will not reduce the ick factor for long.

On the eve of her departure Shell conferences with her brothers, Toby and Hank. The holograms are decent, and if not for the lack of smell she’d have thought they were right in the room with her. Good signals, good sound quality.

“Hey,” she says.

“Baby sister,” says Toby. Tall, blond from their mother, talkative, always smiling, and transmitting from somewhere on Mars, a settlement whose name Shell can never remember.

“Stinkbug,” says Hank. Brown hair, five-eight, slender. He’s called her that since she was two. Taciturn, works as some kind of operative or agent. Brown hair, five-eight, slender. He and Shell look alike and they both favour their father. He cannot talk about his work.

“While you’re out there, look out for Dad,” says Toby.

“Don’t,” says Hank.

“What? We don’t know that he’s dead,” says Toby.

“It’s been fifteen years,” says Shell. Toby always does this. They declared Haldene Campion dead years ago so they could move on and disburse his assets.

“Just keep your ears open,” says Toby.