Méandre ran through a dreamlike labyrinth made up of millions of dreams and memories—a resurgence of his childhood on Daedalus. But suddenly, a quantum chaos seized his mind.

  Reality became blurry. Though he perceived the dream around him, the remnants of truth emanated from it. His universe fractured—Heather, the Ethereals, matter, and mind unraveled in a wave that defied reality. And it swept him away with it...

  When Méandre regained consciousness, he was lying next to Heather on their narrow bunk. The young woman was writing in her journal: "Universal time: 013 800 002 024/12/09. Just one month left before the big leap. Thanks to my machinations, the crew suspects nothing. But with the start of maneuvers, things will get tougher... We'll have to face the mistrust of the officers... Of course, I already have a plan to outsmart them. Camaraderie and friendship are formidable weapons in the hands of those who know how to wield them..."

  A misshapen toe suddenly emerged, snagging Heather's sleeve and spilling ink onto her notes. "Keep your filthy paws to yourself, you're going to ruin everything!" she protested, pushing away the ugly appendage with the tip of her pen.

  "Hey! You're the one writing in front of me!" Méandre retorted casually, making his foot reappear. He sat cross-legged beside her on the cramped bunk. "It's not my fault space is tight here. And besides, you like it when I play with reality."

  Heather sighed wearily. "Yes, but right now, I'm not in the mood for it... I'm scared. Scared that we might make a mistake," she admitted bluntly, her gaze reflecting the anxiety she saw in Méandre's dark pupils. "You've barely woken up—we have no idea what we might encounter..."

  But Méandre only displayed a vague dreamy smile. "Hexy, we agreed... Can't you feel the call? Freedom awaits us there..."

  Although they had both reached adulthood during the journey, Heather suddenly found him childish, lacking an essential perspective. She hastened to remind him: "Freedom for us also means freedom for the other inhabitants of the Zone. No one truly knows the reality unfolding there. Just imagine for a moment that Evil reigns there definitively... or worse, that no stability is possible."

  "Nothing is absolute in this universe, that's what makes it beautiful," Méandre replied, a subtle grimace adding a touch of irony to his smile.

  Born a Psychic, Heather had received certain teachings that allowed her to discern the subtleties behind the boy's facade of enthusiasm. "I appreciate your optimism," she said, gently caressing his pale cheeks accentuated by his black eyes that swallowed all innocence. "I just want you to consider the possibility of failure."

  Méandre grumbled, pushing away her affection. "Nothing could be worse. If abandoning our quest is your intention... then leave! But I will move forward with confidence!"

  Heather smiled and pulled him into a comforting embrace. "I aspire to shape my own reality as much as you do. But I don't want to lose either of us along the way. Promise me you know what you're doing."

  Méandre's candid smile reappeared, identical to their first encounter. "I promise to do my best," he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

  "Good," Hexy replied encouragingly before adopting a determined tone. "Now, it's time to advance our plans. I'll go find the consciologist—her schedule puts her at the augmented reality laboratory. See you later."

  With caution, Heather closed her stained journal.

  "Finally, we're really here!" exclaimed Méandre, stretching languidly.

  Behind his serpentine name, the boy remained an open book. Yet Heather resisted countless urges to manipulate him, drawn instead by his naive quest for adventure and self-determination far from the society that had shaped her. What irony for a Psychic, she thought, contemplating his angelic features. I could get used to his beauty.

  "The choice is yours, Mayday..." she replied with a smirk.

  "...After over a year, I still get that?" Méandre blushed to the tips of his ears.

  "Until death, Méandre of Daedalus. Now, go remind that mercenary Lawton of his loyalty while I'm away."

  He looked at her strangely, without comment. He doesn't even question my commands anymore, thought Heather. Is it time to reveal to him my true nature and the deeper reasons for his presence by my side?

  Méandre's eyes brimmed with pride and joy as he watched her stride away with determination. He's so young... smooth and pure... surely the Zone will transform him, Heather thought as she left. But how long can I protect his innocence from what awaits him?

  Galia Singearth pensively observed the simulated neuronal activity projected in front of her. The sole sample of neuron from the Zone, consciousness ZP12-0156879, had provided fascinating insights but also raised more questions. As a consciologist at the Academy of Practical Sense, she was dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of this strange vortex planet.

  Her concentration was interrupted by the whoosh of the laboratory doors. A woman entered, her forehead creased with apparent concern. "Please excuse the intrusion," she said in a soprano voice as she glanced at the solid-image display.

  Galia examined the visitor. Her hair, braided high on her head, bore the colors of flame - marking her as a psychic from the Citadel of Ego - although the heaviness in her gray eyes hinted at troubles beyond her gifts. "The occupancy indicator is above the door," Galia replied calmly.

  "Forgive me, I must have missed it." The woman's rounded features tensed in a controlled manner that revealed underlying tensions, and Galia noted her skill in the art of concealment.

  "Do you need to use the laboratory?" she inquired.

  "I wouldn't want to disturb you in your work." There was sincerity in her response, though Galia sensed a lack of conviction.

  She wanted to test her authority. "Actually, I had just finished. Please, take the room," she said.

  A shadow of a smile touched the woman's full lips. "I appreciate your lie, Dr. Singearth." A crystalline sincerity emanated from her words, and Galia felt drawn to the open facade of this stranger.

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  "Heather Xylofers," the woman introduced herself, making the palm-opening gesture – a universal greeting of the Compass.

  Galia shook the extended hand, intrigued. "A psychic from Ego, far from home," she observed. Heather nodded but offered no further context. "That intrigues me. What brings you here?"

  Galia was surprised by her abrasive frankness, though she suspected the presence of this Psychic to be the cause.

  Heather carefully considered her question. "To be honest, I seek your insights. The mysteries of the Zone deeply trouble me," she replied.

  Galia raised an eyebrow, both intrigued and skeptical. "It's rare for a Psychic to venture beyond organized territories."

  A subtle smile once again touched Heather's lips. Galia felt admired. "I see the way you observe me," Galia noted.

  "Observe me?" Heather asked.

  "Yes, like a player watches the board or a scholar a puzzle. You see me as a problem to solve."

  Heather listened attentively, not denying Galia's observation. As a Psychic, she recognized that consciology held many answers.

  "Now you wonder: is she observing too?" Galia continued. "The answer is yes, for I am trained at the Academy of Practical Sense. But I suspect I may not be able to teach you much that you don't already know, given the rings containing your gifts."

  Galia spoke concisely, then paused to reflect. Had Heather's sincerity or her psychic talents influenced her frankness? Heather noticed Galia's hesitation with concern. "Fear not, I bear these signs to protect you," she said, indicating her long braids with multiple colors of flame held by ten shiny black rings. "One never sheds the gift of reading the body, but I will not wield excessive persuasion on you."

  A warning, like those carried by wild beasts, thought Galia. Aloud, she said, "I see. Consider me duly warned. Unless you have anything else to ask, I shall take my leave..."

  "Wait," Heather spoke, and Galia felt a peculiar tightening in the request. Deeper lines furrowed the Psychic's brow as her skin aged before stabilizing. "Please," she resumed, "I need your..."

  "…comfort?" Galia suggested with insight. Her sharpness remained keen, even in the unexpected. Observer, for a human, Heather thought with gratitude. A brief smile softened the features of the consciologist.

  "I was going to say I needed your advice," Heather admitted, "but yes, something in that realm as well."

  "You know my name, but it was my title you sought, wasn't it?" Galia responded wisely.

  "Indeed. The Universal Administration insists that its consciologists fulfill their missions," Heather replied.

  Galia suddenly felt relieved. Psychic or not, she doesn't seem to know the deeper reasons for my presence, however absurd they may be, she thought.

  "What can my humble science do to ease the anxieties of a Psychic?" the doctor asked. "Are you afraid of encountering the vortex or being trapped in it? That one of your hosts might disappear?"

  "Who says I have hosts?" Heather retorted, stung by the psychologist's curiosity.

  "Come now, I can understand rejecting a belief, even a way of life, but changing the genetic nature of a species... That seems highly improbable to me," Galia replied calmly.

  To me as well, Heather thought. That's why the Zone represents the best hope. Leaving the scientist's insinuations hanging, she asked, "Can you inform me about what lies where we are going? I know that vortexes cause reality mutations, but it's impossible to find public details about this planet or its inhabitants."

  "Indeed, and for an obvious reason, very little information exists," confirmed Galia.

  "Really, why is there so little information available?" Heather asked curiously.

  "What do you know about vortexes?" Galia replied, eager to gauge the extent of the young woman's knowledge.

  "Well, only an ethereal of immense power can create one. A vortex is a distortion of reality so advanced that the fabric of the universe frays. Variations in the fundamental nature of things can be observed there."

  "You are right. But vortexes cause many other effects, notably due to their ability to contain consciousness. Normally, when a creature dies, its Essence - what creates consciousness in Matter - escapes and returns to the Whole. But the attraction of the vortex prevents this process," Galia explained. "No one knows what happens in the Zone, as the fate of the souls that pass there is unknown," she continued. "Time, space, and gravitational forces lose their fixity there. The immediate reality experienced by the observer depends entirely on chance or their ability to shape it."

  "Fascinating," Heather admitted. "And does it not worry you? The prospect of there being truly nothing. Of losing all physical form? Of breaking the cycle of incarnation?"

  "Do you know this old academic proverb? 'Leaving one universe is entering another,'" Galia replied. "It's rather fanciful, but it makes sense on the scale of the Universe. If nothing exists outside the Universe, then it's impossible to leave it. But if the Universe is part of a higher Whole, then leaving it would lead to that Whole..."

  Heather interjected thoughtfully, "My education imparted a similar maxim but with an opposite meaning: 'Leaving one universe is destroying it.' Have you considered that the Whole might remain inaccessible?"

  Galia sighed. "Science tends toward pessimism, an unfortunate heir to the caution of faith. But I am naturally optimistic. What greater prospect than to open new ones?"

  But Heather remained solemn. "Perhaps consciousness serves only to test the Universe to preserve the Whole, like a leukocyte in the human body. Wouldn't our journey risk signaling the destruction of all we know?"

  Galia considered this with renewed interest. Perhaps this stranger held knowledge that could help her own designs after all. "Would you be on board if that were the case?"

  "Without hesitation," Heather replied, "but it would be a shame to come so close to answers, only to fail."

  Galia nodded understandingly. "Then it seems we both have an interest in unraveling the mysteries of the Zone."

  Heather's lips twitched into a fleeting smile. "Indeed. Which expedition team are you assigned to?"

  "The yellow team - studying the historical consciousness of the Zone. And you?"

  "Same. It's remarkable that we haven't crossed paths earlier, given the size of this ship!"

  Galia chuckled. "That's an understatement! It takes me the entire morning just to traverse from the dormitory ring to the laboratories."

  Heather sighed. "I have to pass through three airlocks just to reach the bathrooms in my section." She continued, "Shall we meet again at the preparatory meeting?"

  "Agreed," Galia replied.

  "Can you remind me of the time, please?" Heather asked. "I accidentally deleted the message."

  "De Marina announced it in person earlier, weren't you there?" Galia replied.

  "Yes, yes, I just forgot," Heather admitted. "Between the preparations and the excitement, I'm not always in the present moment."

  "I understand, it's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time!" Galia said empathetically.

  "You sum up the feeling well," Heather agreed, smiling. "Can you refresh my memory?"

  "The meeting is scheduled for the next Materia at the seventy-fifth universal hour," Galia replied. "Be careful, De Marina doesn't appreciate distractions... Trust me, I learned it the hard way!"

  "Thank you for reminding me, I was afraid I'd have to bother her," Heather sighed gratefully.

  "Among colleagues, we have to help each other out," Galia concluded kindly.

  A comfortable silence settled between them, each savoring the idea of ??having obtained what they were looking for. In the distance echoed the familiar hum of the ship, a soothing lullaby for the curious souls within it.

  Heather was the first to break the tranquility. "I should go, I have some work left before the meeting. But I look forward to discussing our respective projects in more detail."

  "Likewise," Galia smiled. "Perhaps we could have a meal together before then to learn more about each other?"

  "Oh, that might be complicated, I have a crazy schedule, I don't even leave my quarters anymore."

  "Too bad," Galia replied, "I'll see you at the meeting then."

  "Without fail," Heather assured as she left.

  During the journey back to the central ring and the quarter Lloyd Lawton had loaned them, Heather sadly reflected that she would have liked to meet Galia Singearth under different circumstances. She imagined with melancholy the relationship that could have blossomed between them.

  But now there was no question of feelings; her freedom and Méandre's were paramount. The consciologist was merely a pawn in the chess game of her escape plan.

  Upon arrival, she found an empty cabin - Méandre had not yet returned from his meeting with Lawton.