The next morning, Zed woke feeling surprisingly rested. His parents were already gone to work, and his mother had left a note full of vague threats that would be rained down on him if he wasn’t keeping up with his schoolwork.

  He’d get to that, but first things first. Zed picked up his CIG from the bedside charging pad. He still couldn’t get over how sleek and compact the little cigar-shaped wonder was.

  Zed inserted the contacts, placed the audio ends behind his ears, and slapped on the forearm bands.

  The CIG booted up instantly, and Zed was pleasantly surprised when Douglas appeared before him, waving one bendy hose arm of his spacesuit with vigor. He’d almost forgotten that they had excised Gin the previous evening. Thank God. Miranda was right. Gin had all the warmth of a tool chest.

  He set to work uploading all his personal files and art assets. It was quick and easy—so much so that Zed found it jarring. The CIG guided him through the upload process, which consisted of holding his drive up to one of the arm bands, waiting for a few seconds, and that was it.

  Zed remembered a conversation he’d had with Baat about the rate of technological change in the early decades of the twenty-first century—the way every few months it felt like there was some massive new leap. By the time Zed was born, that pace had slowed considerably. But sitting here in awe of this new tech he was using, Zed imagined that the feeling he had now must have been what it was like.

  He decided to make his way back to the mess. Hopefully, the breakfast crowd would clear out quickly so he could get to work. He’d never created anything for such a large space or at the fidelity that the CIGs would allow.

  Zed was nervous about the fact that the entire colony would stare at whatever he made three times a day, but at the same time, the thought was utterly thrilling. Every artist loves a captive audience.

  ***

  “Mind if I join you?” Zed asked.

  Baat looked up, a little startled. A grin spread across his face, revealing creases from a lifetime of smiles.

  “Zed! Of course, my boy. Please, sit!”

  Zed set down his tray of pancakes across from Baat. He was about to dig in when he saw Baat bow his head. He waited as the older man quietly blessed the food. Baat raised his head, and they ate their meal in silence.

  This was one of the things Zed liked about Baat. He never felt like he had to be “on” when hanging out with him. If he wanted to talk, Baat was more than happy to talk, but he was just as content to sit and enjoy the moment.

  Zed was about to dig in when he caught sight of Andy Foster entering the mess. Zed stiffened, and Baat noticed. The older man followed Zed’s gaze with a casual glance over his shoulder before turning back to his own meal.

  Afraid that Baat might ask questions he wasn’t ready to talk about, Zed decided to preemptively change the subject.

  “Baat, why did you come to Mars?” Zed asked, breaking the silence.

  Baat looked up from his meal. He placed his spoon on his tray with care and wiped his mouth.

  "That's a big question with a long answer, my boy." Baat interlaced his fingers under his chin and rested his elbows on the table. "Why do you ask?"

  Zed pushed his food around his plate and shrugged.

  "I don't know, I guess I'm just trying to figure out where I fit in here. Some of the colonists seem less than excited about a kid taking up space here."

  OK, maybe he did want to talk about it.

  Baat looked surprised. "Someone actually told you this?"

  Zed nodded.

  "Did you tell the Commander?"

  "No, and I wouldn't, though I'm pretty sure she overheard or got the gist of it anyway. She gave me a sort of job to do for her. And I mean, I'm grateful; I know she's trying to help. I'm just not sure virtual set dressing is going to add to my value in an environment that is doing everything it can to kill you."

  "Virtual set dressing? I don't understand."

  Zed explained the mess hall virtual overlay assignment. Baat nodded thoughtfully.

  "I think Thabisa made a brilliant choice. You have a gift. Maybe not the kind traditionally associated with settling a new planet, but in a certain sense, you could serve the colony in a way similar to what I do. People are more than just their bodies. If food, clothing, and shelter were enough, this whole thing would be a lot simpler."

  Baat gestured to the room full of people starting their day.

  "No matter how committed everyone here is to this goal, this mission of bringing human life to a new world, we were all born on Earth. Everyone needs a taste of home, no matter their reasons for leaving it. I don't think this is something she threw your way out of pity. This is something important, Zed, and I think you can take pride in that."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A part of Zed wanted to push back against the encouragement, but he couldn't help but feel himself lifted out of his pity party.

  "Zed, I'm going to make a suggestion that you probably won't like. You're free to do what you will, but as your friend, please hear me. I want you to consider giving whoever it is that discouraged you a gift."

  Zed's pancakes flip-flopped in his stomach at the thought. "What? What gift?" he asked flatly.

  "I don't know. Perhaps you could give him a more personal taste of home as an overlay for his quarters. I'm sure a resourceful boy like you could find him on the roster and do a little digging into his home history. From there, it's not a big stretch to make an educated guess at a location he might wish to see again."

  "I've been here a day, and he made me feel like literally the most worthless person on the planet. You don't get it. I can't just whip up a virtual environment. I haven't even started on the mess, and that will still take me who knows how long to finish. I don't even know where to start with this guy."

  Zed shook his head. Now he just felt angry.

  “But that’s beside the point. I’m not going to do him some massive favor. Even if I did, he wouldn’t accept it. It’s an utter waste. This just sounds like some religious BS that you might do to earn some points, but that’s not my bag, and I don’t have to play by those rules.”

  Zed regretted his words as soon as he spoke them. He knew he wasn’t being entirely fair to Baat. The man had never tried to push him into anything religious, but Zed didn’t apologize.

  Baat held his hands up in surrender. “I’m sorry to upset you, Zed. Truly. In no way do I want to minimize the hurt you felt. That was a cruel thing he said to you. I know you don’t share my beliefs, but I believe that the one who made me also knows what breaks me. I’ve had a fairly long life at this point, and I’ve seen what following his way has done for me and to me. It’s not always pleasant, but we’re all broken in some way. Showing undeserved kindness and love is the only way to be.”

  In that moment, Zed thought he had never seen Baat look more tired. He recalled his initial question about why Baat had come to Mars. He would have to follow up on that at some point.

  “Zed, you might not want to do it for the reasons that I would, but I care about you and the man you will become. So as your friend, I ask you to give it some consideration at least. I don’t ask it for what it will give this man; I ask it for what it will give you.”

  “That makes literally no sense.”

  Zed realized he was gripping the edge of the table. His fingers felt numb. He was frustrated by Baat's request. No, more than frustrated; he was insulted. But looking at Baat, he knew there was no ill will there. He still thought he was an idiot for suggesting it, but Baat had been there for him on the long trip here.

  There had been some low points that his parents had been oblivious to, but Baat had always seemed to see through Zed’s brave face and had offered him little words and acts of encouragement when he needed them most. There was no way he was going to make something beautiful for that asshole Andy, but maybe he’d do it for his friend. Maybe that would be enough.

  After a long pause, Zed said, “I’ll think about it.”

  Baat smiled.

  “I appreciate it. You’re a brave boy, Zed. At your age, I don’t think I could have even considered it.”

  When Baat had left and the breakfast crowd had dwindled to just a few people, Zed got to work.

  This was going to be the biggest art project he’d ever worked on. He’d created his own personal VR home environment as a kid and tweaked it over the years, but it amounted to just a customized room. The mess was massive. Not only that, but he was starting to realize just how many people would be staring at every little thing he made. They would scrutinize it daily as they drank their coffee. Maybe for years.

  Stop it, Zed. You’re going to psych yourself out.

  Zed lay down on one of the benches and stared up at the domed ceiling. He wondered if this was how a baby chick felt as it looked up at the dome of the egg it had grown in. He imagined the red dome cracking and falling away to reveal a kaiju-sized chicken standing on the Martian surface. He smiled at the thought, but the ridiculous mental image had actually sparked an idea.

  Zed snapped his fingers and summoned Douglas. It was time to find out what this thing could do. He entered the access code Thabisa had given him, pulled up the mess hall mesh, and got to work.

  As he worked on the miniature representation of the mess hall dome on the table in front of him, he realized that the changes he made were reflected in the dome above.

  Bit by bit, Zed began to knock cracks and holes in the dome overlay, like missing bits of an eggshell. Some holes were near floor level for closer viewing, while others were high on the dome above. When he was satisfied with the number of virtual windows he’d created, Zed got up and began to walk around the now-empty room.

  What would a group of people who had accepted a life lived indoors on a desert planet want to see? Glimpses of Earth, or something more?

  Zed rubbed his eyes carefully. He assumed the CIG contacts were durable, but he didn’t want to take any chances. These things certainly couldn’t be cheap.

  It had taken him several hours to carve out the windows, and he knew it would likely take weeks to create the scenes that would inhabit the virtual spaces within each. He needed a break. Despite his internal resistance to the idea, Zed found himself looking through the Naug colonist database for information on Andy Foster’s background. He told himself he was just curious, but in truth, he felt like he’d been infected by Baat’s “love your enemy” mindset.

  Apparently, Andy had gone to MIT. There were photos of him at various school functions, smiling and goofing around with friends. He almost felt human. Zed hated it. It felt like even that small step was conceding defeat to Baat. What defeat? He wasn't at war with Baat. If anything, he was at war with Andy, yet here he was, looking into his past and spending time attempting to learn more about him.

  Then he came across something odd. At least, he thought it was odd. When he attempted to look further back than college, there was nothing. No mention of parents or where Andy had grown up; just no record at all. Maybe that was normal, but it seemed like an unusual gap.

  Zed pulled up Baat’s profile and scanned through it. He could see records of Baat’s years at Oxford, along with his time as an astronaut and even some relevant accounts of his childhood and family.

  So what made Andy special? Was there something someone was trying to hide?

  Zed sighed and flicked away the info window. Maybe there was a conspiracy, or maybe he just really didn’t like Andy and was looking for sinister plots where there were none.

  He didn’t like the idea of admitting that Baat was right, but during those brief moments when Andy felt like a person instead of an inhuman enemy, Zed had to admit that he felt a certain amount of relief.

  Zed swore under his breath. He knew what he was going to make for Andy. Still, part of him truly resented it. Maybe by the time he was finished, that part would be a little smaller.