Good Morning, Midnight

by Lily Brooks-Dalton

“I’m still here because I have nowhere else to go,” he said. “I’ve had a long time to come to terms with that. Understand, I am in pieces just like you, but I keep them separate. I’m not sure how else to explain—one piece at a time. You will learn, I think.” “And if I—if we don’t learn?” “Then you don’t.” He shrugged. His voice was a smooth, low rumble that harmonized with the hum of the centrifuge, his South African accent round and seamless, syllables falling together in his mouth like a melody. “These things are different for everyone. But I see you learning—you are far away and then suddenly you are here again. Asking me these questions. Do you know what I do? I brush my teeth and think only of brushing my teeth. I replace the air filter and think only of replacing the air filter. I start a conversation with one of the others when I feel lonely, and it helps both of us. This moment, Sully, this is where we must live. We can’t help anyone on Earth by thinking about them.” She sighed, dissatisfied. “Not what you wanted to hear?” he asked, mouth curved in a wistful smile, sadness lurking in the shadows beneath his eyes. “It’s not that. I just—it’s hard.” He nodded. “I know,” he said. “But you are a scientist. You understand how this works. We study the universe in order to know, yet in the end the only thing we truly know is that all things end—all but death and time. It’s difficult to be reminded of that”—he patted her hand where it lay on the table—“but it’s harder to f...