Ivan nervously stroked the spot on his upper chest where metal met flesh. The interface had absorbed several of Dr. Kemp’s felt pen marks, leaving no trace of discoloration in the metal. The disappearance of each mark felt like a further loss of his humanity.

They were now close enough to Earth for a live video chat with his wife. He’d been dreading this moment. Email was impersonal, a step removed from contact. You could think about what you wanted to say, phrase things to give a desired impression, avoid or ignore uncomfortable questions. Not so with a live call.

A quick email to Judy had ensured that he’d be talking to the children first. Not that there was any hope of holding them off—Josh and Suzie were about as patient as any other kids their age. He was wearing his coveralls, and he would make sure not to bring his hands into frame. The children would see only the face of their father, entirely normal. But if he could satisfy them, have Judy hustle them off—then came the hard part. Judy would see any attempt to deflect and would zero in on whatever he was trying to avoid. There was no point in trying to soft-pedal or spare her the gory details. And she deserved better. She deserved his trust, and she deserved the truth.

Ivan reached for the connect button yet again, hesitated, and with a snarl of frustration, stabbed down on it with his finger.

There was the usual delay for a space-to-ground call, then the screen filled with the faces of his children. “DADDY!”

Ivan smiled, almost sobbed, and his eyes welled up. His throat constricted and he couldn’t have made a sound if his life depended on it. Not that it mattered. Josh and Suzie were both talking in a steady stream, neither seemingly bothered by the fact that the other was speaking about something entirely unrelated.

Finally the verbal assault petered out, and his children stopped to draw a collective breath. Ivan grinned and said, “Sorry, did you say something?”

“DADDY!” Twin frowns of mock disapproval answered him.

The next several minutes were a blur. Ivan luxuriated in the sight and sound of his family; the children competing for maximum face and voice time, while Judy hovered in the background, trying to look patient and calm.

Finally, his wife stepped in. “Okay, enough. I have to talk to your father. And you have homework. Move it.”

There were groans of frustration and then a flurry of “Bye, Daddy,” before the children left the room. Ivan watched Judy close the door to the bedroom, then turn back to the phone. Here it comes.

“All right, Ivan. Spill. What’s this all about?”

In as calm a voice as he could manage, Ivan told her.

* * *