There were seventeen of us smiling for the solnet news feeds in St. Peter’s Square, with the basilica as our formidable backdrop. Most faiths were represented, so nobody was questioning a Quaker’s inclusion. The robes some representatives wore were impressive; I thought they looked brand-new and obviously professionally tailored.

The most painful part of the mission was that long year in Lancaster learning about my new religion, which seemed to be about the most nonhierarchical, nonjudgmental faith anyone had ever formed. It took a great deal of self-discipline to focus on the tenets and (loose) structure, but I got there in the end. Anyone curious about Quaker history and practices would swiftly be bored into retreating as I recited it all to them.

Interestingly, it was Nahuel, the Buddhist monk, who was keenest to talk to me. He told me all about his acceptance and learning in the temple, in return listening politely to my cover story of how I came to my gentle faith. We chatted amicably as we walked through the Vatican’s hub, into Rome’s metro network. From the city’s international hub it was just a few quick paces to the main Olyix transfer portal in Buenos Aires.

I stepped straight through into a rotational gravity effect. The toroid was small, and spinning faster than I was used to, as my inner ears were quick to let me know. I saw Nahuel pause, instinctively holding his arms out in a novice surfer’s pose to regain his balance.

“Have you ever been in a space habitat before?” I asked.

He shook his head, which is always a mistake in fast-spin gravity; his lips puckered up as the combinations of deviant motion assailed his ear canals.

“It’s okay,” I assured him. “This is as bad as it’ll get. The Salvation rotates very slowly; you won’t feel the spin at all.”

“Thank you,” he said with an insincerity that his fellow monks would doubtless frown upon.

“Until then…” I proffered an anti-nausea tab.

“No. I wish my mind to remain clear.”

“Of course.”

Officially the station we were in was the Arkship Transfer Buffer Facility—a human-built space station that held position ten kilometers out from the forward end of the Salvation of Life. Everyone just called it the Lobby.

It was there because the Olyix had been very clear they didn’t want a portal inside the arkship, especially not from Earth. They were concerned about a terrestrial plague devastating their biosphere. Fair enough; even we hadn’t classified and analyzed all Earth’s microbes and germs and viruses, let alone what they’d do if exposed to Olyix biology.