Beyond the aethership’s window, Catalonia shone like a brass and crystal star, lost and alone in the vastness of space. Kilometric antennae cast to the void, flowers carved over its colossal hull and around the main station’s atrium, beautiful stained glasses, and asymmetrical lines. Art. Home, if everything goes well. It has always bothered Fritz, this tick-tock speeding up inside his chest. It knotted his guts, tightened his pneumatics. And of course there was the noise, the clocks emphasizing his anguishes, excitements, dreads and delights, right there, for everyone to hear. But now he tried to keep himself calm, the glassy cold window against his icy metal forehead, their battle breaking the silence in the cabin with a sharp sound.