Silver Lining Starport [Side Quest 3]

"Ethan, wake up!" The sickening sounds of the crash that follows brings me bubbling to the surface of consciousness. I try to turn the shuttle away from the hyperbolic tanks, but that only sends me careening from the driver's seat. I'm not sure if my skull is cracking open along with the glass tank I've fallen upon, but the pain is so unbearable I'm losing my grip on reality. Somewhere in the pain I know it's stupid to try and stay awake. To assess the damage I've done in this Sector. But I force my eyes open long enough to see the blood, the twisted metal, and the boy lying underneath.

Just then, a nurse walks in with a plastered on surprise expression. "Oh, Mr. Nova, you're awake!" She smiles an unnerving smile when she notices the bruise forming beneath the heavy cuff. "No need to struggle, dear. This is just a safety precaution. For your safety and ours." She's younger than me and feels the need to address me in such a condescending way. Somehow it comes as no surprise to me when my snake oil salesman of a boss comes striding in with nary a scratch on him. I know something is very wrong. But in this moment there is only one thing I dare to ponder. The nurse rushes to my left with pad and pen in hand as I wave my free hand in the air, desperate to ask what needs to be asked before anything else, "How is the boy?"

"He's dead." If there were no other redeeming qualities about Jerry Augustine, I could always trust him to be blunt and straight to the point. My eyes shoot open and I stare wild-eyed at the man who'd raised me and given me a merciless job as his most prized engineer and his most haggard assistant. It was because of his inability to feel any empathy towards anyone but himself that I hadn't slept in three days when the accident occurred. Accident? No, I suppose it was murder. That would explain the handcuff and the smiling nurse with underlying disdain in her eyes whenever she speaks to me. Tears stream down my face as I try to mouth the words, "I'm sorry." But the weight of those words make me even weaker than I already am. If I'd been lucky, the shock might've caused me to have a heart attack right then and there. It was what I deserved. But it didn't and Jerry kept talking.

"The mother of the boy was knocked out of the way in time, but she witnessed the impact. Now, I've invested a lot of money into her recovery, but..." He sighs a weary sigh, but I press on. "But what?" I scribble down. "Son, you're a liability now. If word gets out about what you've done. If anyone finds out about the lab--about you and the failed attempts before you came along. Well, I...I could lose everything. And the mother's out for blood, you understand. If I don't put you on trial, she'll blow my company wide open. "An eye for an eye." she said, "A tooth for a tooth." Everything I've worked so damn hard to build, gone just like that. This ship my ancestors left me, Genosphere, and who will take over my position if you're locked away? She has your life in her hands, son. She can order your dissection, rip you limb from limb. All to expose what I've done. They'll see it as wrong. I know it's a miracle, what you are. But they'll see it--you--as an abomination."

My voice comes in a raspy sob, "What do I have to do?" To fix this, I am willing to do anything. But I know that a loss like this, a pain like this could never be "fixed" or "mended". So I wait for the voice of my merciless god to bestow upon me the divine solution. Jerry then does something that shakes me to my core, my merciless god is being merciful in this moment as he leans forward, pulling me into a fatherly embrace. But as he pulls away he whispers so low that only I could hear the words, "Silver Lining Starport." My blood runs cold.

Several days later, when I am well enough to stand and walk on my own, I find myself limping through the terminal on crutches. There are people everywhere, rushing through their designated checkpoints, busy living their mundane lives. Their beautiful, precious mundane lives. I stop for a moment, careful not to get in anyone's way, and simply observe the people around me. A woman runs towards her elderly father, whom she hasn't seen in a long time. I guess that he had probably worked hard in a Sector far removed from his family and that this was his homecoming, his retirement. He had surely earned his right to spend his final days with those he loved. Beside them, a young man stands with a briefcase, waiting to board. He seems impatient, nervous. He must be running late, I wager. But at least he has time. Time to realize that there are more important things than punctuality. Time to stop and look at the millions of stars passing us by. A twinge of regret hits me square in the chest as I realize I do not have the right to wish for more time. The boy I killed, however, has full rights to my life now. And I'm relieved to know that his mother will get her justice, and that Jerry will be able to continue running this vessel until he finds someone far more worthy than I to take his place.

But somehow they can tell that while I look like any Natural Born, my existence isn't quite natural at all. Still, I can't help but wonder what a woman would have said if, after we had taken the time to cultivate a relationship, I found the nerve to tell her about how Jerry Augustine had directed a series of experiments on a whim and that thirty-five years ago, after countless failures, the successful Genosphere project was given the name Ethan. Would she call me a monster? Or, what was it that Jerry had said? Abomination? Yeah that was it. And now I can understand why they would feel that way about me. If I hadn't been created in that goddamned test tube, that little boy would still be here right now. But Jerry called me a miracle, even though I've caused so much suffering. Even if I was only given life to sustain this ship, I still feel grateful. And for a split second I can't help but wonder if Jerry might love me like a real son. But it's too painful to think about, and it doesn't matter anymore anyway because my creator is setting me free from my pain. What else could that possibly be if not a father's love?

Lost in thought, I find myself bumping into the first of three Identification Booths that must be entered before access can be granted to those wishing to enter this particular checkpoint. Within the terminal, all other checkpoints require the swipe of a card, but because of the nature of this checkpoint, users are granted three chances to change their minds. I step up to the first booth, a cold computerized voice rings out, "Please place your thumb on the designated area to initiate Thermal Recognition." Before I have any time to hesitate, I reach out and press down firmly. "Thank you, Ethan Nova. Thermal Recognition confirmed. Please proceed." I step out of the first booth and head to the second where the same cold voice greets me, "Please sign and print on the dotted line while stating your name aloud to initiate Consent Recognition." My hand shakes as I reach for the pen and with a trembling voice I manage to speak. "Thank you, Ethan Nova. Verbal and Written Consent confirmed. Please proceed." The shaking has radiated down to my knees now and I wobble out of the second booth, trying hard not to lose my resolve, my sense of gratefulness. "Please face forward and look straight ahead to initiate Retinal Recognition." I raise my chin until I'm at eye level with the scanner before me. I can see my reflection in the screen. I take a deep breath and brace myself to stop the shaking. "This is it," I think to myself. "There's no turning back now." But just as the last thought crosses my mind I catch a streak of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. I turn to look but the Identification Booth has already deployed a mechanism designed to keep my head still in order for the retinal scanner to function properly. I'm in full panic mode now. I know the woman I'm straining to look at is the mother of the little boy I killed, but what I can't seem to process is the little boy standing next to her, alive and well. I try to force the mechanism off but I'm locked in tight. My mind is racing and I can't make sense of any of this but all I can think of now is apologizing to that woman and her son.

"Thank you, Ethan Nova. Retinal Scan confirmed. All checkpoints confirmed. Please proceed to your final destination." No, no, this can't be happening. Not now, not when there are so many unanswered questions. Once the last Identification Booth is cleared, its function automatically changes and the entire structure shifts to become a moving vehicle, much like the shuttle I was ordered to drive at Jerry's command, designed to drive its user directly where they need to go. The scanner screen folds down over me, newly formed to create a sound proof windshield. I scream and yell and kick and claw but once I'm buckled in and forced back into my seat, I know there's no getting out of this nightmare now.

"Welcome to Silver Lining Starport. Your suicide is important to us. Please listen carefully as we guide you through your final moments. Our goal is to send our clients on a humane and painless journey. First, you will be placed inside our glass oxygen chambers where you will find your suits. You may wear these suits over your funeral attire. Once you are properly fitted, your oxygen chambers will attach to one another so that no one will feel alone. After all passenger chambers are attached, you will be place onto a railway which will begin to move you through a beautiful projected landscape of the ancient world. As you proceed towards the end of the track, your oxygen will slowly deplete. You will feel a lightheadedness that will ease you into restful unconsciousness."

The voice echoing through the sterile white walls was unlike the computerized voice from the Identification Booths in that it was entirely human, but the coldness of the recording felt the same. It sent chills down my spine just as the anger of seeing those two alive back at the terminal sent blood boiling through my veins. Jerry Augustine owed me an explanation he knew I was never going to get. On my way here, I managed to piece the story together. Augustine had lied to me about the mother's claims to destroy his company. And how could she have possibly tried me for a murder that I never committed? Jerry, being the owner and captain of this entire vessel, was the wealthiest man alive. If he had the capabilities to create new life in secrecy, surely he had the money to heal and mend a broken Natural Born in secrecy as well. And with such abundant wealth, he could bribe a struggling mother with enough hush money to set her and her son up for life.

My love for Jerry, my longing to be accepted as a human being and not some petri dish pet, and my overwhelming grief had all made me blind to the truth. And now that I had a reason to live again, I found myself stuck in an impossible situation. Seething, I moved onto the platform and made my way into the glass chamber. To my astonishment, there was a young woman seated next to me, cheerfully adjusting her suit and buckling herself in. She glanced over at me and offered to help me with my helmet.

And I couldn't express how much I meant that. I couldn't express how much I wanted this kindhearted Natural Born to live, either. So I just sat there, contemplating my next move. Finally, the chambers connected like blocks and the tram started to travel forward. I couldn't be sure but I assumed each helmet held enough oxygen to keep its wearer alive until the very end of the projection. And as I looked behind me I noticed we were the very last to connect. I was so flustered when I got here that I hadn't thought to count the number of chambers and passengers. It was strange being able to see each other through the glass. Surely designed to bring comfort to those that boarded alone, the sight of so many people did little more than turn my stomach inside out.

"This obscures my vision too much. I don't want to miss a single...second...of--" As my breathing slowed in response to the fresh flow of oxygen, hers quickened until she drew one last sharp gasp and drooped down in her seat. Blood trickled from her nose and mouth due to the sudden impact of pressure, and to my horror the other passengers clapped in celebration as her body crumpled into my mine. Overtaken by primal fear I thought I was incapable of feeling, I jumped to my feet and started pounding on the glass walls. Several passengers ahead of me looked on in horror and wonder before an old man stood up and mimicked my motions from the other side of his chamber. He wasn't trying to escape, he was only trying to help free me. I knew this because his wife stood with him a moment later, taking one hand gingerly in her own while continuing to pound on the glass with the other. Both smiling all the while. At one point the man reached into his pocket to pull out what appeared to be a glass cutter but they both fell unconscious before crumpling to the ground, the knife sliding far into the upper right corner of their chamber. It seemed the old husband and wife had had second thoughts about dying, and had brought the rusty old tool from the man's work days just in case they wanted to get out.

They made jokes at the expense of the deceased, playing a sick little guessing game about why they chose to die this way. They approached the elderly couple at the end of the line.

He stood from his crouched position and headed toward the knife. It hit me then what he was planning to do with it and I snapped. I had seen enough twistedness to last a lifetime at this point so I lunged out onto the platform and jumped right back onto the tram. The element of surprise knocked all three of us off guard for a second before I kicked the knife out of reach and wrestled the nearest one into a head lock. Once he was blacked out I threw the bastard right into the other sneering bastard. They knocked heads with a sickening clunk.

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As I continue down what feels like a never ending corridor the shadows before me begin to morph into horrifying shapes. My awareness that this is my mind's way of protecting me from harm helps me to press on until finally I stop upon what can only be described as a dimly lit prison cell. The ghastly sounds are coming not from the twisted grotesque creature in my imaginings but from an old man. Judging by the deep creases on the man's weathered face one would assume he has seen many tragedies in his lifetime. But I could not wrap my thoughts around his current state. As we stood there staring at one another in mutual confusion the man whispered. "Nathen." The name rolled off his tongue as if he'd just been stabbed with a rusty knife. His eyes glaze over, only for a moment, then he locks eyes with me, his gaze is so intense I want to look away. But I get the sense this man knows me better than I know myself so I dare not look away. "Nova, if he finds you..." "My name is Ethan." I feel angry now. He seems to know me, so then why can't he get my name right. Maybe his wits left him a long time ago. Surely no man could live to his age without losing a bit of their sanity along the way. "You think that's your name? Is that what Jerry calls you, Nova?" "You know my father?" He spits in disgust before continuing. "He's got you all twisted up and knotted around his ego, boy. He's not your "father" and your name is just a piss poor play on my first born's name. Nathen made you in his image. His, God damn it! Jerry didn't create you, Nova. He stripped you of your purpose and destroyed you!" The old man is so belligerent he's begun to rattle the solid white bars between us. He is so forceful until we both hear the sound of his right arm breaking and he stops, completely unfazed by the bone protruding from his elbow. He slowly shuffles over to a bizarre looking machine that takes up so much space in the cell that I can't believe I haven't noticed it until now. He nonchalantly straps himself in and the machine whirs to life all on its own. A large drill with a needlepoint tip points itself directly in front of the old man's chest and to my astonishment shoots a small red laser beam clean through. I now realize that this is the reason for the monstrous wailing I had heard on my way down here. Whatever this machine is that seems to cause its subject unbearably agonizing pain, is at the very same time mending the broken bones. When the machine finally shuts down the man breathlessly moves onto a bench. "Who ARE you? What IS that? How do you know me? I have so many questions. Please--" The man holds up a weathered palm with such an air of authority that I feel an immediate calm wash over me. "This is gonna take a while so sit your ass down," he motions to the ground and I obey, carefully laying Jane Doe beside me. The man watches but asks no questions about the young lady before telling his tale. "My name is Roger Augustine, 12th Captain of the vessel. Imprisoned by Jerry Augustine--my youngest son--with the rest of Crew 12 because I did not want you, Nova, to be left in the dark about your mission as the New World Compass." He goes on to tell me that I am a perfect genetically engineered organic navigational map of the Cosmos, created to find a new planet worthy of being called Humanity's new home. He tells me that this machine, which Jerry neglected to give a proper name, is a Rejuvenation machine built to keep Crew 12 alive indefinitely while simultaneously causing pain the would bring even the strongest to the brink of death. A torture device. "So the bones I fell into..." "The rest of my crew. They all refused Rejuvenation in the end. Some starved themselves, others inflicted fatal wounds upon themselves. Jerry couldn't force them to heal, they were as rabid as animals with not a shred of humanity left within themselves. Being the true coward he was born to be, he waited for their corpses to rot away before removing them from the cell. I always assumed he'd incinerated them. I know it sounds sick, but I'm glad they stayed close by. I feel a little less lonely now."

 I want to ask how long he's been down here, but my throat is so dry and I I'm so afraid to know. "Nova," I snap to attention, "How old do you--No, I'm sorry. How old are you?" "Thirty-five this year, sir." He let out a wry cackle. "Do the math, Nova. I was there at the Genosphere when Nathen made you. I was there when you were a formulaic concept, I was there when you were conceived inside the God Spark. Twelve ships, twelve men and women chosen by Earth's last remaining leadership to scour the universe for a habitable environment to ensure the continued survival of the human race. Each with a fraction of our population on-board. How long ago do you think that was, Nohva?" I swallowed hard before giving an honest response "I don't know." "Well over twelve hundred years ago." The room started spinning but Roger spoke to keep me from fainting. He spoke to me as if I were a little boy again. And that eased my dizziness but not before the harsh realization hit me that I don't remember my childhood. So I asked Roger straight out and he told me all kinds of truths. Like a Matryoshka doll of Earth's past, within the Genosphere I lived my youth developing inside a large tank containing the God Spark. While I was being developed my true father, Nathen, taught me many things. As Roger continues to piece my life together for me, Nathen's appearance forms in my head. He was me. I was him. Not a "son" in the Natural Born sense of the word, but living tissue made in his image. An exact fabrication. An elaborate lie. But Roger reassures me that Nathen Augustine was a good man. A real man, he said, unlike Jerry. "You were his hope. Hell, you were everyone's hope!" "Did he love me?" "Yes." The lack of hesitation makes my synthetic heart hammer in my chest. "Why did he leave me?" "He was murdered. By Jerry. And the life you've been living... The lie you've been living is the result of that murder."

I cry then but I dare not speak. I have to know now. I have to know everything. Jerry's motives as it turns out amount to little more than sibling rivalry and petty jealousy. As first born, Nathen was heir to the Captain's seat. Like kings and queens of old, ship Captains were revered and admired by all. Jerry was willing to do anything for a taste of that admiration and so he killed his older brother in order to obtain it. He destroyed the other ships just as they reached the docking bay to try and stop him, drastically reducing the population. He silenced Crew 12, locking those who opposed him away in the lower regions of the ship in an area that was once a museum celebrating the marvels of modern space travel. He built two Rejuvenation machines, one that could destroy and restructure human anatomy, another for his own personal use. He called this one his Fountain of Youth and kept it in the Captain's chambers carefully hidden from prying eyes. And so twelve hundred years of space travel amounted to little more than running in circles just to stroke one psychopath's ego. "I never wanted this. You have to help me, Roger. We can fix this. Everyone on this ship deserves to know the truth." "There will be widespread panic. The truth would throw this entire vessel into chaos. We can't risk it." "If what you say is true and we've been floating through the void for so long... We might as well rename this ship Purgatory." Roger cuts me off just long enough to inform me that all twelve ships were named by their respective Captain. Ours was Hope. I never even knew our ship had a name, and that just adds fuel to my fire. I stop at nothing to convince Roger to help me put an end to Jerry's reign. Finally, he agrees. "I want you to be the ship's Captain again. You can ease everyone into reality. You can steer everyone and this vessel in the right direction just as you were meant to. I know you can do it." "I appreciate your blind faith in me, but so much time has passed that I fear I don't have the skills to maneuver Hope like I once did." I was suddenly struck with a fascinating idea. "What about my Jane Doe? We can use the Rejuvenation device to bring her back, once her wounds are healed you can teach her all she needs to know to operate Hope while you speak to the people!" My enthusiasm causes me to use my skeleton masks to beat at the lock on the cage holding Roger inside. Frustration builds to a seething hot boiling point within me until my eyes refocus and I find myself using nothing but my bare hands to bend the bars apart before breaking enough of them so that Roger can slide his frail body through with ease. My strength fades as Roger stays seated on his bench. "This machine is the only thing keeping me alive. If I walk out of here now, it's only a matter of hours before my time ends." I was in the midst of strapping my nameless friend into the Rejuvenation device when he yelled my name in a vicious tone. "She's dead. She can't come back." I was shattered but refused to give up on this sweet young lady as I turned the machine on. "Then I'll heal all the scars and bruises she may have gotten in her lifetime and when you leave here--and you will leave here, Roger--you find her family and you give her the send off she deserves, you hear me?" 

The laser beam rips a hole right through her chest and the small scratches and minor nicks she acquired on our long journey to the truth slowly but surely disappear. The impact she left on me would never do the same. And so when I turn with her in my arms Roger has already stepped out from his cage. I long to never see this perpetual prison again before I realize Hope itself is just a larger cage that we will never escape thanks to Jerry's selfish acts. "Go. Lay her to rest. I'm going to the Captain's seat. I'll broadcast to every part of the ship and make sure I'm heard loud and clear. This has to end." "Go down a little further and turn left, you'll need a suit to reach the Captain's seat. You'll make it there in half the time if you climb up through the airlock. Be careful, Nova." My name is Ethan I think to myself as I walk into the small room connecting to the archaic museum. The lights flash on one by one with a dull thud and there before me is an ancient astronaut's suit. I've only ever read about the first suits in data logs but seeing the real thing up close leaves me breathless. It isn't sleek at all. On the contrary it's faded, worn and weathered from use. I worry I won't be able to move with ease and I'm absolutely right, but that's ok because I know my real purpose now and no minor setback is going to stop me from saving Hope. At the end of the incredibly long corridor is a rung ladder in which I climb ever upward until I find myself two rungs below the door leading out to the Captain's seat. Once I open the airlock above me and activate my oxygen tank there will be a small window of opportunity for me to hook myself from one end of the vessel to the other. I see now that Jerry has spent his long life in fear and paranoia of being found out. He has built the Captain's chambers as a small but separate part of the main ship. It makes sense why no hands were allowed here, why no one has ever seen it until now. I open the airlock and hook myself in, I push off and glide to the airlock on the other side. Once inside I am awed by the sheer size of the structure. A giant vertical cylinder with doors all around. Leading to what, I'll never know. It takes me a moment to notice that though I've deactivated my oxygen and am still hooked to the long tether this suit came equipped with, I am hovering between two fans. One of which seems to be blowing hot air that I can barely feel through my heavy suit. The other fan is not on. But I am far too focused to be perplexed by this. I push all my body weight forward against the currents of the huge fan before me. With every move forward, I am pushed further and further from the Captain's chambers just above the fan. A door lock clicks open, faint but carried to my ears by echoes on the wind. I look up, and there smiling down at me is none other than Jerry. I reach toward him. He's so far away. He closes the door again, but through its glass window I can see him walking towards a control panel and flipping on some kind of switch. I'm struggling with all my might to reach that smug smile of his. A great mechanical sound reverberates and bounces off the walls. I turn to see the enormous blades of the fan behind me spinning into life. This fan doesn't blow out hot air. It sucks that hot air in. And everything else along with it. Jerry watches with the grin of a truly demented soul as I turn back to meet his gaze one last time. Knowing its futility I gather all my strength, activate my oxygen tank one last time, and push with a thousand years of pent up rage towards that door. And for just a moment I am propelled upward. And for just one glorious moment I can reach the door handle. But that moment is the last triumph I'll ever have before Jerry kicks the door wide open and into my chest sending me straight into the fan which I know all too late isn't a fan at all but an insidiously designed and well placed incinerator.

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Darkness at first. Then an awareness of movement and speed. I'm moving forward. Faster and faster. A kaleidoscope of infinite galaxies in the universe swirl around me as I travel. Everything is moving at the speed of light itself in a dizzying array of beauty and yet my comprehension feels as if it's boundlessly expanding. Every moment of my life is being relived all at once yet I am a nonexistent observer silently viewing my own story. Though I know not where I am heading I feel no fear. Nathen's life plays out before me as I wade through the sea of stars as well. As much a part of me as I to him, I feel time slow as I watch my birth take place in the Genosphere. At first a petri dish, then a small beaker, until at last a blast from within the cradle of life, my essence uniting with the God Spark and blossoming into a supernova. The beauty of it all is so breathtaking that all human language fails to describe the scene. But I have no words anyway. I am only an awareness. As the scenes of Nathen's childhood begin to blend with my knowledge of Earth I begin to grow lonely and forlorn, wishing desperately for a place to belong. I somehow know that I have been travelling forward like this for a very long time now. Just as I grow so weary I feel as if I'll cease to be I see a dim light. This time I refuse to move within the flow of time. I push ahead, swimming through the nothingness. I am desperate to reach the source of this light. So desperate.

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My eyes barely adjust to the screen mounted on the wall far above me. I focus hard until I can read the name plate of the well-aged woman with hair the color of sun rays addressing the camera before her. Captain Cordelia Lange continues on. "Twenty-eight years ago today the citizens of Hope were released from a devastating lie and stricken with an equally devastating truth. But our thousand year journey comes to a happy end here today as we embark on a new one. Living new lives on a new planet." She waits patiently for the applause to die down. "And now without further ado I'd like to unveil Lydia's Garden. The plaque here acts as a final resting place as well as a monument to our history. The poem engraved is the last letter Lydia Amzi wrote to her loved ones in her final moments. It reads as follows: "Love me For once I breathed Lose me Fore nevermore Have I truly grieved Than for a place To call my own Made not of metal But dirt Grass A single flower Built on life and love Not frozen perfection A false sense of power Alighted wings On a gentle breeze Free at last From the Human Disease We were crafted from flesh Etched into bone Our hearts made to bleed With nowhere to roam Now it's time for me To go home."

As the poem finishes a photo flashes onto the screen. A photo of my Jane Doe. Another flash, Captain Roger Augustine in his prime on Earth. A final flash and I'm staring at a photo of myself. Beneath the photo is a caption "Our hero, our liberator, our beacon of Hope. Ethan Nova. Well I'll be damned if the old man didn't find the letter I slipped into Lydia's pocket. My "In the event that I don't make it" letter where I asked forgiveness from the woman and child I'd hurt so long ago. Where I made my request for Lydia to be buried in the Synthetic Garden where nothing ever grows. Lydia's Garden bore fruit from what I can see on the screen and has been replanted with beautiful flowers from mourners and well wishers alike. If only I could tell her how much meaning and purpose her life had. And Roger, too... The whereabouts for Jerry don't cross the darker reaches of my thoughts for more than a few seconds. I can't imagine an entire ship of hostages allowing someone like Jerry to live. Before I can fully process what I'm seeing a door opens and a man I assume to be a doctor of some sort walks in with his face turned toward the screen. The doctor turns, hair the color of sun rays, eyes an icy gray. They pierce the soul like the biting cold of a winter storm. I recognize those eyes. I strain to read the tag on his coat. Ezra Lange. This is the boy I killed. Thought I killed. But he is a man now, and a life bringer at that. "Congratulations." He says brightly. Through the open door I can faintly hear the cries of another newborn somewhere down the hall. "Have you thought of a name?" Ethan, I think to myself. My name is Ethan. "Eden," says the woman I now realize is cradling me in her arms. "Her name is Eden." And in that instant all that I was fades away like a supernova. And in that moment I am born anew.