Shrugging, he faced the drafting table and passed his hands lightly over Rayan’s favorite place to work and the laminated scientific notations Rayan had left behind for them. Some of his observations were even written permanently onto the table. Edison had changed into a fresh uniform, and the tight shirt clung to his muscled shoulders. She wondered if the Foxfire made him continue his exercise or if it was his own impulse, another way to remain more human. “Sympathy, I think, or trust. Better the devil you know, right? Mother figure is less threatening than a form we can’t empathize with.”

“Yes, yes, that’s good,” Misato agreed. “But then why is she blue? Why the lemons? My mother smelled like jasmine. That’s not familiar. Why take a similar form for us at all? My childhood was not like yours, mm? This thing is intelligent. It learns. By now it should know to appear as something pulled from our fondest memories.” She sighed and joined him in his shrugging. “Or I’m full of shit, and this leads nowhere.”

“When I’m awake I see my mother, when I try to sleep it’s the blue woman. I don’t know what that means, Misato, but Rayan was clearly very busy,” Edison observed. He picked up a plasticky card. It was reusable and shiny, but the marker on it wasn’t faded or smudged. “Nanomechanical oscillations,” he read. “Organic anchor theory? What’s that?”

“Plants can communicate on the smallest molecular scale with vibrations, the closest thing on Earth to telepathy,” Misato explained, sidling up to him and peering at the card in his hands. She pointed to it. “But this? OAT. I’ve never heard of that. I was a hobbyist biologist compared to Rayan.”

Edison seemed to unfocus his laser-blue eyes, but Misato recognized it as a person consulting their AR display. He would be searching his hard database for anything on OAT. Quickly, however, he shook his head and put the card back down, making sure to replace it in its original spot.

“Not much,” he said. “Most of the linked studies are on crackpot archives. SpaceAsk, I Want to Believe, all the usual suspects. Still, something to look into. I can do some reading later.”

“Please do,” Misato replied, offering him another sip from her mug. He took it, but more gingerly this time. “I’d like to think Rayan helped us beat this thing. Or, you know, outrun it long enough to see it destroyed.”

“That’s the idea.” He winced from the strength of the vodka. “You all right? I know you and the kid were close.”