“It’s not like you would let me out of here anyhow,” she says, still weary but lightly amused, the tone you use with someone who knows you better than you know yourself.

“Nope,” he says. “Not after what you did last time. Honestly, woman. What were you thinking, jumping up as soon as you came out of the tube? These trips are wreaking havoc on both your body and your mind.”

“I only have two trips left,” she mutters, closing our eyes. “Two more trips before my mind starts coming apart.”

“Thank goodness for that,” he responds. “I’d like to enjoy some time with my wife, with my family, before we all fade away.”

She doesn’t respond, but a hot liquid pricks the backs of our eyes. Our heart, heavy before, seems capable of dragging our whole body through a deep black hole now.

I don’t get it. I thought the whole point of this mission was to save the future. To save my future daughter. Why would they all fade away? What does that even mean?

The surface under our back vibrates, and then a rolling ball moves across our neck, shoulders, spine, kneading the muscles with a precise amount of pressure. A fine mist is sprayed into the air. It smells bright and fresh, like sunshine.

No, not sunshine, I automatically correct myself. Ten years in the future, the sun is associated with evil instead of good. I know this as well as our heart knows to keep beating.

Not because anyone told me. Not because I’m reading my older self’s thoughts. But because the knowledge originates from our body’s instincts. The fact of the sun’s danger has been internalized down to our very bones.

She inhales deeply. These scents must not just be pleasant but also medicinal. Sure enough, I can feel the adrenaline rushing to our muscles. I can feel our mind becoming clearer.

“Your vitals are looking better already, Malice,” Zeke says. I wish he weren’t speaking through an intercom. His undistorted, familiar voice would be a comfort right now. “I’ll let you out soon.”

“I can’t wait to see you,” she says.

“And touch you. And lick you.”

She laughs. “Don’t be crude.”

“You married me,” he points out.

“You’re right,” she says. “And I would do it again, in every life, in every time.”

She closes our eyes, and this time, the liquid does rush out, smattering onto our cheeks. Zeke doesn’t speak for a moment, but the silence seems to reach out and gather us close. I’ve never experienced anything like it. How can he make me feel so loved when I can’t even see his face?

“Was the mission…a success?” he asks, his voice a low rumble.