bzzt.
> Are you there?
bzzmm!
> Hello?
- I'm here.
> For a minute, I thought...
- I'm climbing out, one second.
> Careful.
- This is such a—why are we doing this? We have food on board.
> I'll kill somebody if I have to eat another bag of dry biscuits.
- Don't say things like that so lightly. You realise I'm the only available candidate for the next few weeks?
> You know what I mean. Stay on the ship if you want, I'll be back soon.
- I'm not doing that.
> Then let's split up. Looks like it's going to be dark soon and I don't want us to linger here longer than we have to. You go east, I'll go west?
- Luce, did you see this? The sun's setting in the other direction.
> We saw it from the ship, remember? This one spins the opposite way.
- It's strange.
> Yes it is. But there's nothing to worry about. Be careful when you're walking around, ok?
- I will. Don't be long! Only thirty minutes, no more.
> Promise.

Luce has become my friend over the past five months. She works in the Office of Agriculture back home, and I in the conservation office. This is my first time off Earth. Luce has been to the moon Phobos before, which is why she's cockier about being out here.

It looks like home here. Luce picked it because of that, because she thought something familiar might be growing here. On the ship, we learnt that this used to be an occupied territory some years ago. 

Look back.

Luce is already over the horizon. She wanted to restock on fresh produce, but I don’t know how to tell if we can or can’t eat something. What does she want, fruit and vegetables? I wanted to ask her how anything could have kept growing on an abandoned moon. Sometimes Luce doesn’t think things through. 

Further ahead, there’s an overgrown field of sugarcane. Wait—I’ve forgotten to bring a knife with me. It should’ve been strapped to my suit in the first place, but I remember taking it off and not putting it back.

I’ve stopped at the edge of the field. I’m hesitating, because what if I get lost in the sugarcane and I need something to cut myself out? They’ve grown to almost twice my height. I’d have only my compass to know which way to go. Who knows whether a compass would even work here?

Luce would know.

The sun is setting quicker here than we thought it would. It can’t have been more than five minutes, but the sky has already gone from gold to red.

Now that I’m standing here, alone, I’m wondering why we went opposite ways. Why didn’t I just stay on the ship? She would’ve found something on her own.

I could always turn back.

Turn back.

No! I’m not turning back. I can manage to take care of myself. There was nothing alive here that we had to be afraid of.

Go into the sugarcane field.

I won’t do that either.

Go around it, then.

I can’t even see where it ends. I’m not going this way. I can feel a breeze and it tastes like salt. **I’ll go that way instead.**

Are you angry? I knew the field was a bad idea. And if I got lost I’d have to figure it out myself. Where would you be then?

Don’t be like that. It’s worse when it’s quiet. You can tell me what to do next.

Follow the salty breeze.

It sounds like the sea back home. If it actually is one, I’m going to stay and watch the sunset. I haven’t been to the sea since I was a child. It’s strange, it’s not as if I swam or played in the sand when I went. I would only watch the waves. But I miss it so badly that I think I must be lying to myself. Either I’m exaggerating how much I loved the sea as a child, or just looking at the sea was enough for me to love it so deeply.

Do you miss Lucrezia?

I do. You don’t talk much and I don’t know if you care about all the talking that I’m doing. I must bore you.

I can talk.

Really? Then let’s have a proper conversation. Where did you come from?

From the silence of space.
/ From the silence of the sea.
/ We grew up in the same town.

Did you? I’d never realised. Look at this, after all this time I’m still learning things about you.

How long have we known each other for?
/ How long has it been since you were home?
/ How long until you’re back home on Earth?

Feels like forever. Being out here has done something to my mind, something to how I think about time. I can’t think of years or months or days the same way again.

That’s not because of space.
/ It’s not your fault.
/ I feel the same way.

You’re right. It’s not unusual to lose your sense of time.

It could be because of all those hours I spent watching the waves and not paying attention to the time.

Did you go to the sea too?

I’ve never seen the sea.

How can that be? It doesn’t matter, you’ll love it when you see it. When I saw it for the first time from above, from space, I saw all of it. It felt like something I wasn’t supposed to see. Like I was a baby who’d fallen out of its cradle and saw it for what it was, from the outside.

You should visit home once you’re back.

I know that. I’ve wanted to for a long time. I’ll hate it once I’m there.

Wait, have you—

> What are you doing this way? I thought you were going east.
- Luce! It's so good to see you again.
> It hasn't even been thirty minutes yet. Did you get turned around?
- I must have.
> Can't take you anywhere. You stay with me, we'll go back to the ship soon. Did you find anything?
- No.
> Amazing. Did you run into trouble? There's a look in your eyes that's putting me on edge.
- I'm fine. Did you find what you were looking for?
> I found sweet potatoes, and these leaves that look like spinach. Not much else.
- Luce!
> What?
- The sun, it's going away.
> Yes I know, it'll only be a minute and we'll go too. Help me dig these up. I think they’re chives.
- No, it's going away. Something's eating into it.
> No no, stop looking! Don't they have eclipses where you come from?
- I know what eclipses are. I think it's safe to watch one out of these suits.
> Close your helmet and take my hand. Is your oxygen full?
- It'll over be in minutes, stop fussing. It’s just an eclipse.
> Don't move. We're right by the edge and these cliffs are sharp.
- I'm right here.
- ♩♩♩♪♪♫♩♩♬
> What are you humming?
- Nothing, it's one of those rhymes we learnt in school.
> ♩♪♪♫♩♩♬♩♩
- ♩♩♩♪♪♫♩♩♬♬♩♩!
> ♩♬ It's so pretty.

Luce and you stand hand-in-hand and continue to hum tunelessly. Second by second, the sun disappears. Luce’s humming wavers a little. But she was right, it **is** pretty. You’ve never seen an eclipse firsthand at home. You’re sad for a second, because nothing surprises you anymore the way things did when you were a child and easily impressed. You could be watching the eclipse by a grey sea on an empty moon, and not feel anything. You’ve seen your planet become tinier than a marble. It broke your mind’s order. Nothing else can faze you now.

Luce hasn’t taken her eyes off the sun. She looks entranced. Her eyes are so wide and unblinking. You can tell that Luce hasn’t lost it. She still has fireworks going off inside her head when she sees things like this. 

You need me to leave you alone. It’s not terrible to have a mind echoing with silence. Some day you’ll learn to live with it.

I know you can’t say anything right now, and I know that you want to tell me to stay. I’ll make it easy and stop talking before we can argue about it.

Your eyes are straining from squinting at the sun. You want to rub them but you know that makes it worse. When you look at Luce, she’s blinking and grinning toothily. She looks like she’s just come out of a cinema, still in a stupor from what she’s just watched. The sun’s gone back to being a bright red yolk hovering above the sea.

- Luce, for a moment I couldn’t think.
> Me too.
- There’s nothing in my head. Like no one to tell my thoughts to.
> It’s spaceship fever. You’ll get used to it.
- I don’t know about that.
> Fine, we’ve had enough of this place. No more.
> I’ll get you back home, Paloma.