Enmei was screaming now, his eyes open but unseeing.

“Mortal, calm yourself. Hear my voice. Hear me! Calm yourself!”

Enmei’s vision returned in a flash. Aspentas – the open, featureless expanse of the mechanoid’s mind laid out around them. Enmei quieted, body heaving. His hands still rested over Aspentas’s own. Gradually he drew them back.

“I remember. I remember her. But what the fuck . . .”

“Another mind, Enmei. The other set of memories within you – they responded to your past in a way I hadn’t anticipated. I’m sorry for bringing those images to the surface again.”

“No, no, that doesn’t make sense. I was dying. In a war. But I was thinking of her, of Katsumi–”

“They are false memories, Enmei. Not your own. Please understand that.”

“It doesn’t make sense!”

“You were copied into the data archive when you were seventeen. You are still seventeen now. There is no room for anything other than the past I’ve already shown you. Now, if you let me continue, I will show you how you were copied into the archive. I have full access to your mind, Enmei. Please trust me.”

“If you have full access to my mind, then can you tell me who the fuck else is inside me?”

Aspentas was strangely silent. Enmei was about to say something more when the mechanoid spoke. “It is the Apocrypha’s belief that your current mind cannot handle the entirety of the consciousness that resides inside you. If I was to reveal everything now there is a very good chance you would go insane. It has happened before. With . . . with others besides yourself. But do not fret. In due time, all will be revealed. You will attain great power, Enmei. You and Katsumi both. But that we will save for another time. Take my hands. Let us complete your memory.”

Enmei scowled, but did as requested. He took a breath, then touched the outlets in his palms to Aspentas’s own.

*****

Morning. Katsumi’s apartment. He was eating breakfast now, while Katsumi was getting ready for her commute to the university. Enmei brought his optical interface up as it buzzed, reading the message printed in the air.

And he froze. It was from Dr. Campbell.

Akasaki Enmei,

Since our interview, I’ve had the chance to review your records and have found several areas of interest that make you a very unique individual. Please forgive me for my harsh words earlier, and I hope you will join Babylonia’s Heaven’s Program on the moon.

A scholarship and contract will be sent out shortly to all finalized candidates for the Program.

“Katsumi . . .”

“Yeah?” she called from the apartment entrance.

“I’m in. They let me in.”

Silence. Then the sound of Katsumi’s feet slapping down the hall. She slid into the main room, flailing, balancing herself, then she stared at him.

“They . . . let you in? What do you mean?”

“My interviewer, Dr. Campbell,” Enmei said, standing up from the table. “She just said that I’m going to Heaven!”

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Katsumi let out a bewildered cry. “Enmei!”

He beamed at her. They really let me in. Unbelievable.

They embraced, laughing. Katsumi bounced up and down in childish excitement. Enmei felt like crying, but he had done more than enough of that the day before. He just smiled and continued his hysterical laughter, spinning Katsumi off her feet.

“We’re going to Heaven. We’re going to Heaven,” he said, hammering the idea into his brain. Katsumi wouldn’t have to compromise for him. She wouldn’t have to hold herself back from her research simply because Enmei wasn’t special enough to follow her along.

He had been chosen. Him. Finally he could stand beside her, as an equal, or at least something close. Despite her seemingly absolute rejection the day before, the program had reconsidered somehow – they had seen how special Enmei was. This was what he had wanted. This was what was best for Katsumi and himself. They were going to the moon.

So what was the dread that now crept into Enmei’s mind? Not mere apprehension, but an inkling of real fear.

He stifled the feeling as quickly as it appeared.

*****

The next few weeks before the scheduled departure of Heaven’s Program were fraught with logistics. The program’s candidates had been finalized in the following days, personal offers adjusted and futures considered, the exact lines of contract drawn out, what education merits would be gained, and how much hiring bias one might receive if they applied for a job at Babylonia in the future.

Enmei was surprised to find how much was up to negotiation – the process wasn’t like being accepted into a prestigious university. Since candidacy for Heaven had only been offered to a select 78 kids around the world, ages ranging from 12 to 18, the program appeared to be actively encouraging each of the students to attend. For Enmei it was the offer of a lifetime, but these true geniuses (amongst whom Enmei still found it hard to count himself) had no doubt been given numerous similar offers. For them, a trip to the moon meant cutting short their middle or high school careers, thereby forgoing the official education systems in their countries. He knew Katsumi herself had been pestered endlessly over the last couple years to attend programs at Oxford, Cambridge, New Harvard, Tsinghua, and a dozen other of the world’s leading universities – not to mention the heaps of corporate offers that had piled up.

Enmei had bugged her about taking one of these opportunities, but she silenced him each time he brought it up, saying she was perfectly content with staying in Tokyo. Enmei still found it crazy that he was what had been tying her to the city. Seriously, he would’ve just moved with her overseas if she’d asked . . .

Heaven’s Program was set to last for four years, long enough for most of the candidates to reach legal maturity in their respective countries. The contracts outlined only vaguely what the candidates would be taught during that time – mentioning private tutors from Babylon’s head scientists, along with general advanced mathematics and science taught as a group, but nothing specific. What the contract did have was a detailed explanation of the limitations and costs of the program – Heaven’s candidates were asked to not speak of the program and their offers until final membership had been determined, and spaceflights other than the initial departure and final return had the candidate fined the Babylonia Lunar Connection commercial standard. The commercial standard of spaceflight was so high that the clause effectively meant ‘no vacations,’ and breathing the stale, recycled air of a moonbase for four long years. Any luggage over 20 kilos would incur a ridiculous fee, any packages sent to or from Earth would incur a ridiculous fee, and the standard meal plan cost a ridiculous amount.

However, each candidate was offered a personal financial aid deal, and for Enmei, whose financial situation was tenuous at best, that meant dragging down the cost of tuition by a full eighty percent. Still, the remaining twenty would leave him in significant student debt. Enmei didn’t let Katsumi know about that.

Enmei talked with his aunt. Katsumi begrudgingly made the trip to her family home Kyoto and talked with her parents. The candidates and their contracts were finalized two weeks before the scheduled departure for Heaven. Of the 78 offers, 32 would accept their place in Heaven, including Katsumi and Enmei. Their ride to the moon was secured.

Immediately following the final membership decisions, the existence of Heaven’s program was made public. The names of each of the selected youths were broadcast on every Babylonia-affiliated news channel across the world. And of course, Enmei’s life changed drastically.

Four candidates from Japan had accepted Heaven’s offer – four names that transformed overnight from intelligent nobodies to national figures. Enmei’s heart sank as soon as he saw their names play across the screen on NHK TV. He hadn’t known then what that much popularity would entail, but he was right in assuming his name on the news wouldn’t be the end of things. In fact, it was only the beginning.

Next came an offer to a Babylonia-sponsored discussion panel, hosted on NHK national television. They called it an offer. It really wasn’t. One of the clauses of the contract Enmei hadn’t paid much heed to talked about the members’ obligation to assist the program in any form of publicization the company wished. Enmei had thought that meant posting his avid appreciation of Babylonia on his socials, not being interviewed in front of the entire nation.

Katsumi all but melted under the idea. She found it hard enough appearing in the University’s meetings of STEM faculty she was often invited to – meetings of no more than twenty. The mere thought of showing herself in front of the entire nation was insane. She argued with Heaven about it incessantly in the days following, but they wouldn’t budge. She had signed the contract, after all. To breach it might invalidate her position in Heaven.