**The crusty, stooped alien landlord leads the way down the alley; two figures, swathed head to toe in bulky Numerian traveling robes, follow close behind him. The rain falls in dreary curtains all around the trio as they approach the end of the street. A small vermin of some kind scurries past their feet and disappears into an open manhole, and a curdling stench rises from the sewers to greet them. Grays, browns, and greens smear the sky, and the alleyway shares similar hues. The landlord and his two companions pass the twisted remains of a lamppost, but even without its light they can see in front of them a row of decrepit housing units, as ugly and deteriorated as the cobblestones beneath their feet**

ALIEN: Wull, it urrn’t much, but it’s the chuppest we ‘uve.

**The group stops in front of a cracked door. An unreadable number hangs askew from a peg in the center. The landlord pulls out a key ring and removes a pair of bronze keys, which he hands to his new tenants. The taller of the two, a black haired, sad-faced man, smiles in return**

MAN: Thank you.

ALIEN: Not used turr Numurrians stayin’ hurr. Don’t go makin turrble. Things urr udgy enough ullruddy.
**The other traveler throws back her hood, revealing a cascade of tumbling auburn hair, which escapes here and there from her cloak like wisps of cumulus cloud. She smiles disarmingly as she turns the key in the lock**

WOMAN: We know when to keep quiet. No need to worry about us.

**The alien squints at her suspiciously, then huffs grumpily and shuffles away, muttering to himself**

ALIEN: Uhfull forwurd furr a Numurrian wummun…

**The woman pushes open the door, and she and her companion enter their new dwelling. Shutting the door firmly behind them, they survey their surrounding in silence. The main room is unfurnished except for a tattered sofa in the center and a stained futon in the far corner. The peeling, whitewashed walls are bare, except for the odd nail here and there. Beyond the main room is a small kitchen, complete with an old refrigerator, a washtub, and a jerry-rigged stove-microwave combo**

MAN: (whispering) Is it safe to change?

**The woman steals a quick glance out of the room’s only window, draws the curtain, then nods**

WOMAN: Yes. We’re alone.

**Aurora and Future Jimmy flick off their appearance generators, and their Numerian disguises fade away. Their metallic space suits look starkly out of place next to their colorless, rundown surroundings**

AURORA: Thank God. That stupid hologram was driving me nuts.

**Future Jimmy drags himself over to the sofa and collapses onto it, draping one arm over his eyes. He lays in silence as Aurora pokes around the room**

AURORA: Ugh, who knew finding an apartment on this rock could be such a hassle? I thought this was supposed to be a criminal paradise, not a poverty-stricken hellhole.

**She chucks her suitcase across the room, and it lands on the futon, kicking up a cloud of dust. Future Jimmy heaves a sigh**

FUTURE JIMMY: The two are often one and the same. …Aurora, I'm still not convinced that we made the right choice by coming here. We are effectively throwing ourselves headlong into the worst crime hotspot in the whole spiral arm. Wouldn't it be more sensible to start small and work our way up?

AURORA: (shrugging) Not the way I see it. From what I can tell, this is the perfect hiding place. The local authorities are so corrupt that folks with a mind for justice won’t come within a million miles – as long as we’re here, the good guys can’t touch us. Besides, like I told you before, we have a job to do. And, what better place to start our work than in the most nefarious, morally-bankrupt backwater in the whole galaxy? Granted, it won’t be a life of luxury, but we have to start somewhere. And, with your appearance generators, we can play dirty without giving ourselves away.

**He stares over at her from his spot on the couch. His blue eyes make her uneasy, and she turns away. This isn't the first time she's caught him watching her like this, and though she hasn't the faintest idea what his thoughts might be, she cannot abide any of the possibilities. Exhaling to steady herself, she invents an excuse to get rid of him**

AURORA: I bet those so-called appliances in the kitchen aren’t working.

FUTURE JIMMY: Easily remedied. Shall I go fix them?

AURORA: Please.

**He removes the Hypercube from a compartment inside his watch, then pulls himself up off the couch**

AURORA: I know you're not the type of person to pack a normal suitcase, but I wish you wouldn't store everything in the Hypercube. That thing makes me nervous. What if you inadvertently materialize the Half Life right in the middle of our apartment?

FUTURE JIMMY: Aurora, the Hypercube responds to explicit mental commands. If my brain cannot distinguish between a wrench and a spaceship, then our cover deserves to be blown.

**Closing his hand over the device, he turns and disappears into the other room. As soon as he's out of sight, Aurora goes limp with relief. She mops the hair out of her eyes, massaging her eyebrows**

AURORA: How...How's it look in there?

FUTURE JIMMY: (from the other room) I have never seen such a disgraceful lack of rudimentary hygiene. I don't know who the previous tenants were, but their cleaning habits suggest a level of 'dense' not seen since the discovery of osmium.

AURORA: We'll have one of your robots scrub it down it later. Just...stay in the other room and keep working.

FUTURE JIMMY: At least I can harvest the cockroaches and put them to good use. Roach brains contain toxins that work superbly as antibiotics, thanks to the millions of years they spent evolving in filthy conditions. I could start synthesizing some basic medicines as soon as I...

**She stops listening, overwhelmed by his company and the thought of their future mission on this gray and miserable planet. Wandering over to the window, she rests an arm against the wall and peers out. As she looks through the streaked, grimy glass, an acute feeling of loss sweeps over Aurora. She thinks back to her childhood while staring into the middle distance. She recalls the faces of smiling friends, remembers the way the light glinted off the family portrait that hung on the living room wall. She sees the four corners of her bedroom which, once upon a time, had been covered in pink wallpaper and colorful posters. Then, like a page from a photo album, the pictures fall to the side as new ones roll in to take their place**

FUTURE JIMMY: (appearing in the doorway) Aurora?

**Aurora doesn’t hear him. Chin in hand, she leans against the window frame, watching the raindrops shatter into ripples on the broken cobblestones. Where had the years gone? Outwardly impassive, she tries to recall her mother’s voice, but finds the sound hopelessly faint with the passage of time. The weight of this realization hangs like lead on her shoulders. Swallowing to quell the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, she thinks back over the years spent with April – the struggles, the battles, and the friendship, now lost to her. Nav’s laughter echoes in her thoughts, and she closes her eyes, wishing with all her heart to forget. Finally, she sees Future Libby standing alone by the shores of that red lake, arms outstretched, inviting her to see the world anew. Aurora places a hand to her chest, filled with a deep, incurable sadness**

FUTURE JIMMY: Aurora? Are you all right?

**Feeling eons older than her 21 years, she turns back to face the man who had taken it all away, yet who was, paradoxically, the only one who could give it back again. He gazes at her from the other side of the room, concern etched into his face. They stand motionless, the distance between them amplified by their private loneliness and sorrow. At last Aurora reaches out to him across the expanse– and for the briefest of moments, a glimmer shines in her somber eyes**

AURORA: This is our chance, Neutron. Let’s take it.

END

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