“Hello, Zed,” Ana Marsh said.

  Zed’s mother took the seat where Dr. Roth had been at Zed’s left. His father stood at the foot of the bed, his hands pressed firmly into the pockets of his jumpsuit.

  “You seem to be doing well,” Ana said. She seemed hesitant to look at Zed directly for too long.

  She’s afraid of whatever I can do, Zed thought. Even if she doesn’t fully believe it, after what happened in the mess, she thinks I might be able to read her mind or something.

  It felt strange to see his mother like this. So unsure. He had expected her to rush in with anger and accusations. His mother usually handled criticism by doubling down on threats. Accusing her of infidelity in public certainly counted as criticism. This was new. Zed shifted his attention to his father. He saw… shame.

  Why would he be ashamed? He wasn’t the one who cheated.

  There was that feeling in the back of his mind again, just like in the mess hall. Pieces clicking into place. It felt good, even if what it revealed didn’t.

  Dad’s leaving. He’s leaving Mars.

  Ana cleared her throat. “Zed, your father and I have something to tell you.”

  Zed didn’t respond. Instead, he pulled up the Mars to Earth flight schedule in his CIG.

  “Dad’s leaving in an hour.”

  Ana and Ed looked at each other. Zed saw it for a second. They were afraid of him now. A little, at least. Uncertain.

  Now it was Ed’s turn to clear his throat. “That’s… that's right, Zed. I know it’s not what you want to hear, but I’m afraid it’s the best we can do.” Ed glanced in his wife’s direction. “Under the circumstances, it’s best for you if your mother and I aren’t together anymore, with—with all that’s come out. And there’s no avoiding someone on Mars, so…”

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Zed nodded. “And the last flight of this cycle leaves today.”

  “Right,” Ed said. He opened his mouth to say more but stopped.

  “When will I see you again?” Zed asked, knowing the answer.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll see me soon. You’ll be an adult before long, and I imagine you’ll head back to Earth for schooling and whatnot. It’ll be no time at all. Blink of an—”

  Zed’s father stopped mid-word as he got his first look at Zed’s altered eyes. He swallowed and took a small step back from the bed.

  His mother noticed it too and sat up straight.

  “Well, Zed, I know this is short notice, but I gotta get going. I’m sure I’ll see you real soon. They said you’re not supposed to touch people yet, so, uh…” Ed gave an awkward wave to his son and turned his feet toward the exit. “Take care now, Zed.”

  “I should get going too,” Ana said, standing abruptly and nearly knocking over the chair. “They’re keeping me updated, so I’m sure you’ll be out of here in no time. Just don’t cause any more trouble, OK?”

  ***

  Zed leaned back against the pile of uncomfortable pillows he’d been given and stared at the ceiling. The endless stream of videos and movies played at the corner of his vision. This one was a hundred-year-old science fiction film with lots of rain. He didn’t remember the name.

  Rain. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt rain. The water dripping from the ceiling in the hydroponics hall was as close as he’d gotten.

  Dad should be about ready to go up now, he thought. Why don't I feel this more intensely? My father is pulling the interstellar equivalent of going out for cigarettes, and I just feel… numb.

  Zed pulled up the public camera feeds of the launch and positioned the window on the ceiling. The LLV stood on the pad, ready to complete its round trip back to The Attic in orbit.

  Toward the edge of the frame, he could see the dust plume of the Monstro headed back to Naug after dropping off his father and the other passengers.

  There was a ripple of pain down the left side of his neck. Zed shifted and rubbed his shoulder blade. These pillows really were the worst.

  He looked back at the screen just in time to see the LLV’s engines igniting. It rose quickly out of frame until all Zed could see was the swirling dust in the thin air.

  Another wave of pain, this time radiating up into his head. Zed snapped upright in bed. He grabbed the base of his neck with both hands. This was not just a little muscle pain.

  A final tsunami of pain poured into Zed’s skull. He sank into darkness to the fading sound of his own voice screaming.