We hugged awkwardly in suits, before retreating and shutting ourselves away in our berths. If this was the end, I thought, then I’d barely approached it, I stood far back from it. Even if we did make it through, who knew what condition we’d be in. Would we still be ourselves, in any way that we recognised? Would Control still understand us, after our exposure to the power? And if not ourselves, then who, or what, would we have become?
