“You think you’re pretty funny, huh?” Shae says, plopping herself down into an armchair near the bed. Our perfunctory tour of Deck 1 concluded with Jahdra escorting us to quarters. The rooms are generous enough, but more importantly, they’re no doubt located where she can keep a close eye on us.

I push myself up into a seated position.

“What do you mean?” I ask, attempting to feign ignorance.

“Byerley?” Shae asks, raising an eyebrow. “As in, Stephen Byerley? Come on.”

The name comes from a short story, “Evidence,” one I know practically by heart. It tells the tale of Stephen Byerley, a man who’s been accused by his political opponent of being an android, a fact which Byerley himself denies, but which ultimately can neither be proven nor disproven.

I’m a little surprised that Shae recognizes the name so easily, but I guess considering her line of work, I shouldn’t be.

“Would you believe me if I said it was a coincidence?” I ask with a smirk.

Shae shakes her head and snorts.

“Not a chance. I saw you pick up that book.”

I had found the book lying on the table in the canteen, its cover darkened with rings that revealed its primary occupation as a coaster rather than reading material. It was odd to find it there, and I couldn’t resist picking it up and turning through the pages, hoping I’d find some secret message scribbled in the back or wedged in the margins.

I’m almost embarrassed to admit, but it caught me completely off guard when Jahdra asked our names. I guess because Shae never bothered to ask, I forgot that it was something that’s normally expected of people.

“It’s a good a name as any,” I say by way of explanation. In reality, I had to make something up on the spot, and that was the last thing I’d read.

Shae eyes me, turning her head to the side.

“Why not your real name?” she asks.

I think to myself for a moment.

Maybe it’s that I’m not ready to tell her, or maybe it’s that I don’t think she’s ready to know. I guess it doesn’t really make a difference either way.

“I—” I start. I shake my head.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Shae asks gently.

I look up at her and smile sheepishly.

“That’s okay,” she says, a smile breaking over her face. “You can be Byer for now.”

I laugh.

“That’s very generous of you,” I say.

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I’m glad Shae’s here. Even if I didn’t need her help, I’m happy to have her company. I’m not sure how long I’d make it here on my own, just me and Jahdra. Our reception aboard the Chrysanthemum isn’t exactly what I was expecting, and judging by the look on Shae’s face as we followed our reluctant savior through the hallways of the ship, it wasn’t what she had in mind either. Jahdra was even less pleased to see us in person than she was to receive our hail, and her vitriol seems particularly directed at me, though I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve it.

C-CIL alone seems unphased by the fact that we’re being treated with what I can only describe as a disproportionate amount of suspicion, his obvious lack of exposure to the real world, his “newness,” shielding him from the brunt of it.

“So, what now?” Shae asks brightly.

“What now?” I echo. I’m not sure what she means.

Shae nods.

“Yeah, we’re here. We made it. What now? What’s the plan?”

“Huh,” I say to myself. I guess I hadn’t really thought about it. This whole time, I’ve pretty much been making things up as I go along, piecing things together, little by little.

Finding Shae was step one. And finding Jahdra was step two. What’s step three?

Shae seems to read my mind.

“There is no plan, is there?” she asks.

“There is,” I say defensively, hoping that something comes to me. “There is a plan. It’s—” I grab the book lying on the desk and brandish it. “It’s this.”

Shae looks at me skeptically and wrinkles her nose.

“The plan is Moby Dick?”

“What?” I ask, turning the book around to look at the cover and then tossing it onto the bed. “No, the plan is…” I say, rifling through what is quickly becoming a mess of books.

Where is it?

“The plan is…”

“This?” Shae asks, holding up the book I’m looking for, the one I brought her back on Olympia.

I grab it from her hand, flipping to the back.

“This,” I say, holding it open to the last page, the handwritten notes scribbled along the cover.

Shae folds her arms. Why do I suddenly get the feeling she’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear?

“Look,” she says with a sigh. “I’m happy to help with—” she nods to the book “—whatever this is. But you’re gonna have to give me something more to go on.”

She looks at me with a somber expression.

“This is serious stuff. And I can’t go through with it without knowing it’s the right thing.”

I nod.

I get it. I know I’m asking a lot of her. And I respect that she doesn’t take these things lightly. That makes her a good scientist, a good person. I want to explain to her as much as I can. I want to gain her confidence, to make her see. But where do I even begin?

Do I tell her that every step I take is one I know I’ve taken before? That this whole ship is undeniably, irrefutably familiar? That from the minute I stepped foot on Chrysanthemum, I felt like I was coming home?

Shae notices my hesitation.

“Hey,” she says. “It’s been a long day. Why don’t we get some rest, and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” I say with a half-hearted smile. She’s right. It has been a long day. “That sounds good.”

She stands to leave, giving my arm a friendly squeeze before heading to the door.

“Wait!” I call to her.

I bring her an armload of books, waiting for her to hold her arms to take them.

“Take these to C-CIL, would you?” I say.

“All of them?” she asks, her eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yeah,” I say. “If there’s something I’ve learned, it’s that books are the best way to learn about what it really means to be human.”

Shae slumps under the weight of the books as I transfer them to her arms.

“Is that so?” she mutters, turning and walking slowly to the door, carefully balancing the load of books. “If that’s the case, C-CIL’s gonna be more human than me before you know it.”

I smile.

“Hey, Chrys, why don’t you help Shae with doors,” I say. The door slides quietly open in response to my request.

“Thanks!” Shae says with a strained laugh, stepping out into the hallway. I watch her head toward her own and C-Cil’s rooms.

“It’s the cryo cooling system,” I say before she disappears around the corner. “That sound you hear in your room sometimes.”

She peers at me over the stack of books.

“What? How do you—"

“Broken clamp,” I say.

Shae looks at me in confusion, but I just give her a wave and head back to my own quarters, to sleep, to dream, to remember.