The light, slipping into the dark with a flutter,
a burn at the back of my skull.

I ease back to life in the silence,
bare feet padding on a floor of ice.

It is a cold metallic world
and my shoulder dances with fire regardless.

Beyond the light there is darkness,
halls made of hyper-absence and quiet.

The soft touch of my feet is alarming.
I am exploding my way down the corridors,

Running dead fingers along the walls,
breathing into the slumbering air.

Soon there are echoes whispering
around corners. I follow, I seek in the dark,

I find voices, muffled noises. Strangers
speaking of strange things in strange places.

There's a glow at the end of the tunnel,
a spillage of light, un-mopped, careless.

I tread with care. The words seep out:
"...would've thought. Cal the engineer."

"It's weirder for me than it is for you."
"Just fix the damn ship; I'm getting nervous."

"Relax, Lilith. I can do this. I think."
"Real comforting. I'll be right back."

A shadow growing larger, cleaning up
the mess of light with a harsh black line.

Short dark hair floating around the corner,
abruptly stopping when I'm seen.

She looks like she's seen a ghost. I feel like one;
my feet don't quite recognise the floor.

She's about to say ghost, let it out,
prove the haunting real. I'm dead, now say it aloud.

"Atara."

The figures come rushing out. I ache,
and the cold metallic world wakes.