Telling Graham Maxwell that I was in was like releasing fifty half-grown dogs in a party full of five-year-olds. Panic and chaos reigned as I was shuttled quickly and randomly from place to place by no less than four different people. I found myself issued a set of quarters on the moonbase which were then taken away as I was moved to the researcher's wing, which were then exchanged for quarters in the transitional wing. I had no idea where my luggage went and I was soon burdened down by a new laptop/tablet hybrid that was constantly updating as what seemed like random people kept transferring me files.

Over the next few days, I found myself pushed from appointment to appointment as onboarding to the project team ramped up faster than ever. I received medical checkups, scans, bloodwork, DNA testing, scans and measurements of my body's measurements, and even some new immunizations. The octopus-like scanner that I'd seen on my way into the moonbase was by no means the only piece of new technology that I saw in those few days. Most public technology was up to the level of touchscreens, voice recognition and some vague gesture recognition, but the moonbase technology was several generations ahead of it, and I saw wonders that would transform society when they went to the mainstream. Touchless sensors, predictive algorithms, responsive holographic touch technology, and smart A.I. abounded. I was a little overwhelmed by the advanced technology and the sheer volume of ways they were measuring me, but this whirlwind seemed to stop dead as I was taken to my first mental evaluation.

"Hello, Dr. Sohner," the lady said, reaching out to shake hands with me. She was probably of medium height, with brown wavy hair, perfect teeth, dressed in slacks and a bulky, comfortable-looking sweater. "I am Dr. Meredith Graham. It's such a pleasure to meet you." We were meeting in an office that was as different from the rest of the base as it was possible to be. Her office had tan walls, brown, faux wood flooring, and a lot of oranges, browns, tans, and yellows in the decorations. The decorations were primarily landscapes, and with a barely audible soft instrumental playing, it was curiously soothing.

"Dr. Graham," I replied. "It's nice to meet you. Are you related....?"

"Of course," she said, smiling. "I'm his daughter. Father has roped most of the family into helping with the project in one way or another. It might seem like nepotism, but I assure you, he made quite sure we were appropriately credentialed and went through the same interview process as everyone else."

"I'm glad to hear that," I said. "I admit, he seems to have spared no expense in constructing this moonbase, and this project." I raised my eyebrows as she winced slightly. "What was that for?"

"It reminds me of an old movie," she said. "'We spared no expense' was the catchphrase that was used every time the situation seemed to get worse. It's a favorite old movie of Dad's, so we all got to see it a bunch of times."

"Ah," I said, nodding. "You can see the parallels, though, can't you?" I pointed at the ceiling. "I think it's fair to say that there's a pretty good chance that if this breaks down, the attractions might eat the tourists."

"You are awful," she said, giggling. "You've seen that movie too, haven't you?"

"Oh yes," I confirmed. "The original, not the remastered ones. Watching old two-dee movies was a hobby of ours in college." My smile lessened, just a bit, at that.

"It was a hobby of hers, too, wasn't it?" Meredith asked as she walked further into her office, flopping into an overstuffed recliner. I wheeled myself into the room, stopping near the chair.

"It was," I said, as the sorrow fought its way up into my mind again. "That's where Camilla and I met, after all. Two college students with authority issues and a love of old movies."

"It hit you hard when she died, didn't it," Meredith asked from her chair.

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"Of course it did," I said. "It was just a normal flight to New York. We were travelling there so that she could defend her doctoral dissertation. She was so nervous she kept going back through her notes and rereading her dissertation. I'd made her pack it all up and put it in our luggage. We sat next to each other on the left side in business class. I was trying to talk to her about our vacation after she finished her doctorate, but she was distracted. I saw the plane coming. I saw it change course. I was right there!"

"You saw the plane?" Meredith asked, suddenly intent. "You saw it coming towards you? You remember that?"

"How could I forget it?" I asked. "I see it every night in my dreams. I see her vibrant red hair, the sun caressing her cheek, and then the plane turning into us. It hit just in front of us, the wing and one of the turbines smashing into the plane from the left side. After that, I don't remember much, but I doubt anyone does. We got thrown around, the wreckage was going every which direction and I swear we were spinning. When I could finally comprehend what was going on, I looked around to find a piece of metal piercing me at around stomach level, and I turned to find her pinned to the seat with a piece of metal through her heart. There was blood on her head, streaming down into her lifeless eyes. Her head was resting on the wall of the plane as if she was just looking out the window."

"That...sounds very traumatic," she finally said into the silence. "How did you handle it?"

"Ms. Graham," I said. "That day, most of the plane's passengers died. I was there with my wife and we both perished too. The person you see before you is just the ghost. The remnant that didn't let go just yet."

"And how has this remnant handled his situation since then?" she asked somberly.

"Denial, for a time," I told her. "Anger, grief, depression, you name it, I felt it. The pain medication from my injury got cut off pretty early, and that was used as justification for being a complete ass to everyone for some time. Alcohol got abused for a time, until people wouldn't serve me. I did experiment with recreational drugs and got placed in a mental institution for a few weeks due to the sheer insanity that I was spouting."

I looked over to Meredith to see her staring at me with a concerned look on her face. I didn't blame her for that. I'd just handed her every red flag in the book by which to kick me off the project. Truthfully, if someone with my record came to see me about working on a project I was doing, I don't think I'd have taken them either. I didn't have it in me to lie or dissimilate any more.

"Truthfully, doctor, I'm a mess," I admitted. "I spent the first six months digging myself and my career into a giant hole, and then I've spent the last six months slowly digging my way back out. I've spent a lot of time with doctors, therapists and psychologists. I had no less than five previous colleagues come to visit me, and every single one of them talked to me about this project. They wanted me to consider applying. They told me I would be a perfect fit."

"Why do you think they would recommend that you apply if you'd tanked your career so thoroughly?" she finally asked.

"I've asked myself that question more times than you can imagine," I said, rubbing my face. "My first inclination is because it's impossible in a place like this to get access to the substances that I used in the past to medicate myself. Alcohol and recreational drugs are undoubtedly much harder to acquire on a state-of-the-art moonbase on an unnamed and uncharted system in the middle of nowhere. The more I think about it, however, the more I'm convinced that it's a chance at a new start. It's a chance to remove myself from everywhere I saw Camilla and if the old me is dead, maybe a new me can be born out here."

"What do you see yourself doing here, while you are being born anew?" she asked.

"Your father implied that he wanted me to go through the treatment," I told her. "He seemed to say that he wanted a researcher on Eden, but I doubt he needs me for that. There're probably many people who would jump to undergo the treatment to live there. It doesn't matter that much, I think, what I do here. I think I have an opportunity to do some real good and I know Camilla would kick me if I didn't take it."

"So, you'll do the project for her?" Meredith asked.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No, I'll do it because I want to be the man she thought I was again, and not the one I turned into when she died."

"Well then," Meredith said. "I'm sure you'll be happy to know that you are provisionally cleared for the project. I expect to see you twice a week for further conversations, but beyond that, I have little doubt you will accomplish exactly what you are aiming for. Now go. You have a lot more onboarding to do and I have more appointments."

"Thanks, doc," I said, wheeling myself out as she smiled and headed for her desk.