As time passes,

Zak and Aidan's paths converge once again. 

The air is thick with tension, crackling like electricity.

“At least I'm not chained to this slave morality that seems to rule your life.” 

The words hang in the air, a bitter flavor on the tongue. The lines between right and wrong blur, a gray fog of uncertainty settling in. The voices clash, each note a dissonant chord in the symphony of mistrust. Sympathy and skepticism wage war within, a tempest of conflicting emotions.

“You know, everyone else just thinks you're a jerk.” 


“I just feel sorry for you.” 

“I'm glad they think I'm a jerk.”

“I bet you are.”

They have an awkward silence.

"Let's go to the movies."

“Forget it. We're late. We've already missed it.”

“Oh, no. Come on. We can make it. There's gonna be five minutes of trailers. It'll be no problem.” 

“We missed the beginning. Hang it up. I'm gonna go look at some books.” 

Defeat settles like a heavy shroud, yet a glimmer of curiosity remains.

A fragile promise hangs in the air, like a fragile thread holding two souls together.

A truce of sorts, a shared purpose, emerges from the wreckage of words. The burden of past actions is coloring the present.

“Look at Bruno Latour.”

“Yeah, let's look at Bruno Latour.”

“I mean, Graham Harman.”

“Oh, I see you're reading Onto-Cartography.” 

A moment of connection, a glimpse into the inner workings of another.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I am.”

“That's an excellent book.”

As they look out over the Welcome Habitat, for a short time a sense of peace washes over them.