Parallel to Lena, down the short stairs and across the neat living room, stretched a tight chain of massive windows, filling the entire wall from left to right and from floor to ceiling with a breathtaking view over the city at midnight.

But Lena did not notice the innumerable flickering lights of Westlake beyond, for her eyes quickly moved on to the next impressive piece of furniture; the sofa in the midst of the expansive space. It was wide enough to fit a neconox and had a natural cotton color, matching the furry carpet beneath it. The sofa's crescent design pointed at a glorious stone fireplace built into a half-wall. A science book along with a silver rocket model perched on the surface above it.

Lena's eyes moved along the hardwood floor as if they were walking the area themselves to explore more ground. The floor was so clean, the furniture was reflecting on it.

To her left, along the little elevated entrance hall she stood in, she saw a garderobe and, next to it, a dark-wood door, perhaps a bathroom or office, and around the corner of it all, opposite of the kitchen and dining area, an open set of L-shaped stairs led to the next floor, with a landing separating the two flights. Her eyes took a brief break there, looking at the black metal railings of the next level, but she couldn't see much further than that and moved her eyes along the ceiling instead. Its heights varied; the entry and kitchen had a low ceiling while the living room and dining area had high ones with beautiful lamps hanging down from it.

She could see that there was an archway next to the dining table, leading to more mysterious places, but her legs would not move a muscle.

"Want 'ome 'ockolet?" Finn mumbled, his mouth stuffed with food.

Lena's eyes were, as if pulled by an invisible lasso, dragged to the fridge and Finn, who was taking out more food than he could possibly carry. Half of it dropped to the floor but unbothered he set what was left in his unbalanced grip down on the counter.

"What?" Lena said, thinking he had acquired a new language.

Finn swallowed his mouthful of sprinkles. "Chocolate," he repeated, clearly this time, while holding the little bag up high so she could see it from afar, "Do you want some?"

Her legs finally listened to her head's commands and carried her over to the kitchen, meanwhile, Finn moved on to cheese and peanut butter. He filled his mouth before he swallowed what was already in it. It was an awful combination of crackers, honey, and bacon, but the monsters running wild in Finn's stomach did not show objections, nor did they seem to have any preferences. They just wanted to be silenced.

Lena stood at the other side of the counter, overwhelmed and frightened to stain the sparkling finish with her soiled prints.

"Eat whatever you want," he said, glowing from joy.

Lena was lost in a jungle of drawers and cabinets and decorative objects she knew no use of. Nevertheless, she was very happy to see Finn more relaxed. She got to meet a new side of him; a comfortable and gleeful Finn. And one with a stomach ache if he continued stuffing his belly with junk food.

She did not eat. After having wandered off again, Lena pointed at something marvelous in the corner of the unreasonably capacious dining area. She combined her gawp with a question.

"What is that?"

A remarkable sculpture-like object in a deep black had caught her attention. Standing on three asymmetrical legs with little wheels, it looked transportable, but what for? A lid fixed at a forty-five-degree angle made it look breakable, yet strong and heavy. Lena could not guess what its use could be.

"It's an instrument," he said and realized she was expecting more for an answer. "—To make music."

"I know what instruments are for!"

    "So you know what it is then."

    "Well, no, I have never seen one. I mean, sure I've seen a flute, and a harmonica, and others are mentioned in my books from time to time but never have I seen anything like this."

    As she was talking, Finn held his outstretched arms beneath the tap, which recognized his movement and, without a command, began to rinse his hands clean with lukewarm water. He patted them dry and walked to Lena.

Shoulder to shoulder they now stood facing the great instrument.

    "It's called a grand piano," Finn said dully.

    "Can you play it?" she asked with the wonder of a child.

    Before he could stop himself, he said, "No," then added, "I used to," to correct his lie and maintain the promised honesty. "I haven't played in years. I forgot it was there."

    "How could you forget? It's so—so—beautiful!"

    Finn shrugged and turned. "Come on, I'll show you my room!"

    Lena followed him upstairs, now overlooking the living room from a totally new perspective.

The open hallway split into two, as one had the choice to keep straight or turn right, and many doors were aligned in equal spacing. Most of them shut, only two were open. She could get a quick glimpse at one of the ajar doors and spotted tile flooring.

They kept straight until Finn opened the final door of the passage and walked into a new mood. He had never been away from home for so long, and seeing his room after the time that had passed left him feeling odd. He could not say whether the feeling was good or bad. It was just odd. And even odder once he comprehended that a girl was present.

    Working his mind around the fact that much had changed since he last stood where he was standing, Finn was obstructing the entrance.

    "Why did you stop?" she asked, waiting behind him at the doorway.

    He snapped back into the presence and staggered aside to let her enter. Gray walls, dark sheets, a black desk, and the matching chair were what she saw first. Enough to convince her that Finn's room was clearly missing some color. In a way, she could imagine his bedroom to have resembled his sorrowful life, but not anymore. He was grinning yet again, even broader than before, sliding his closet doors open to greet his clothes in a silly voice.

    "I missed you!" he hugged one of his hoodies.

    "Who are you and what did you do to Finn?" Lena said, her expression exhibiting confusion, but her voice sounding jocular.

Finn was acting differently, and although Lena was still trying to get used to it, she didn't necessarily mind it. Pumped with energy, he paced to the other side of the room again, back toward Lena, and turned on the three bottom monitors on his desk. His old tabs popped up, and, not having sat down, he closed them all. All but one.

Finn took screenshots of Robby's blog and saved them as files on the desktop. He needed to contact that man in the morrow, and the little article he had accidentally come across a couple of months earlier could be the closest to finding an address, or even just a last name.

When he had finished there, he walked to the window but did not spend more than two breaths on the view. He turned to look at Lena. "Do you like it?"

"I——This is a hell of a bedroom."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"It's as big as my apartment on Pluviam!"

Finn took a look around. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Everything is so clean," she frowned and clenched to the filthy yellow fabric of her shirt. It was hanging out from beneath the cheerleader jacket, to which she felt the desperate need to take off. "I don't belong here."

"What?" Finn came quickly to comfort her. "Why do you say that?"

"Look at this place. Then look at me."

"This place can be honored to have you. Don't be sad. I haven't shown you the best part, yet."

    Finn took Lena by the hand and led her to the room with the tiled flooring.

Bright stripes of lamps along the ceiling lit the room with agreeable lighting. The large rectangular tiles were of white marble, just like the pillars in the lobby. A third of the room's space was dedicated to a shower with a fastened glass wall as its only border, and on the adjacent wall hung a colossal round mirror with a slick black frame, and a glorious sink and organized storage space were below it.

    "This bathroom is—" was all she could say.

    "This is just a shower. We have an actual bathroom with a tub and all, and windows facing west, so you can see the sunset from there."

    She opened her mouth several times but said nothing.

    "So do you want to freshen up?" he asked.

    "You mean take a shower?" she asked back.

    "Yes, I for one can't wait to take a shower."

    "Then you go first."

    He laughed, "I can use my father's shower while you're using this one."

    Finn gave Lena three towels of various sizes but all with the same fabulous fabric; softer than any blanket she ever had on Pluviam.

Before leaving the room, Finn explained half the dozen buttons that could create different types of streams. He then walked down the hall for the third time and entered the master bedroom.

The color quickly drained from his face, and as if all his blood had sunken to his feet, he was unable to move. He stared at the king-size bed. Its duvet was as if crafted by a sculptor; every fold was to the inch exactly where it belonged.

Between the bed and window was the bathroom door, but Finn was on pause. Was his father still on Boreas? Was he still alive? Finn wanted to think about something else, but he could not get it out of his head. What if his father didn't make it? What if he did, but Arrakis had gotten to him? Finn had to shut his eyes for a moment.

"He's fine, he's fine, he's recovering," Finn said to himself again and again, then proceeded to the bathroom to take the longest shower of his life.