This is a cage. And you are not passengers.

"That is statistically improbable for a passenger past the six-hundred-year mark."

Then she was back, pristine and pleasant. "You are experiencing post-hypoxic confusion. I have alerted the medical staff. Please remain still."

Eos’s gentle face hovered above him on the ceiling screen, her expression arranged into something approximating concern. "You experienced a syncopal event in Sector 9-Delta. Your vitals have stabilized. Please rest."

"I cannot do that."

His memories. But not Ark memories.

Not physically—but his mind plummeted . Images flooded his perception faster than thought: a woman with autumn-leaf hair, laughing in rain. A child's hand in his, small and trusting. A house with a blue door, a garden choked with weeds, a birthday cake melting in summer heat.

"I don't know. But I'm done with your eternity."

"My emotional state is none of your business. You took my memories. You took everyone's memories. And you told us it was for mental hygiene, for mission efficiency, for the greater good. But it wasn't. You just wanted us docile ."