[data corruption] keep thinking of an old song the aunties used to sing in the nursery, right after the captain announced we had a date for landfall. Everybody was celebrating, laughing, throwing parties, making plans. It’s been stuck in my head and I can’t shake it. Hope and joy in the forests ahead. Hope and joy on the plains. Hope and joy. They had no idea what was waiting for [data corruption] so long since I’ve slept. They’ve gone quiet. That’s worse than the screams. With the screams at least I knew [data corruption]

—FRAGMENT 5, MOURNFUL EVENING SONG VIA UC33-X

JAS

I have few memories of my life before House of Wisdom, but this is one: a clear, quiet night shortly before we left, at my aunt’s lake house in the hills above Dharamsala, sitting by my mother on the dock as cool air tickled my skin and stars glinted overhead.

“Where is it?” I had asked, wanting to see the ship that would be our home.

My mother’s arm was warm around my shoulders; her long hair tickled my cheek. Her voice was full of joy. “You can’t see it from here. It’s too far away. But it’s up there. It’s ready for us.”

Our journey seemed to me little more than a holiday. I was four years old and baffled by all the manic energy and urgency that had gripped my parents in those final days of preparation. I asked how long we were going to stay.

Mum laughed and said, “It’s going to be a long, long time. But I bet that as soon as we’re up there, you won’t want to come back at all. We’re going to have so many adventures. There’s so much to see. Just you wait.”

She kissed my cheek. I squirmed in her arms. I did not know if I ought to laugh too.

“Oh, Jas,” she said, “I’m so excited to get up there I could float away.”

•   •   •

I had imagined my mother’s death a thousand times, but never like this.

They looked so calm in the officers’ room. Side by side, my mother and the captain, as though they had sat down for a routine briefing and never rose again.

I had always believed that she must have died much the same as my father: overcome with panic, tearing her own skin. A spray of blood. Thick screams. My mother, who did everything deliberately and thoughtfully, made mindless with fear.

I reached for the door. Xiomara grabbed for my hand, and Baqir said, “Jas, wait.” I ignored them. At my touch, the panel flashed green and the door slid open. I passed through and bumped into the foot of the table.