Myth Rewritten: Fallen Cosmos

The old woman stepped forward, her sharp eyes scanning them with careful scrutiny. "My name's Helen," she said, voice carrying the weight of years spent in the shadows of a once-thriving district. "Black market merchant, if that means anything to you. I've been here longer than most." She crossed her arms. "Now, where exactly are you planning to go with those parts you found?"

Before either of them could respond, a small tug at Mira's sleeve drew her attention. A young boy stood beside her, eyes wide with curiosity. "Are you two robots?" he asked, glancing between their combat armor and gear.

Mira shook her head. "No."

Caleb crouched slightly to meet the boy's eye level. "She's my friend. Have you ever seen robots that have friends?"

The boy hesitated, considering the question. "I dunno. I've always been alone. Is it different from being alone?"

Caleb's gaze softened. "Yeah. It's different. Having someone always be there for you—it feels different."

The boy's expression shifted, something thoughtful flickering behind his bright eyes. "My grandma's always been there for me too."

Helen sighed, calling out in a firm but affectionate voice. "Kolo, you little brat, stop bothering them. Sorry about that. He's my grandson. Hasn't seen outsiders before, so he's curious."

Kolo, undeterred, tilted his head. "You're from outside? Where outside?"

Caleb smirked, leaning back slightly. "Far edges of deep space."

Kolo repeated the words slowly, testing them. "Far edges of... what? What's that?"

"The origins of Philosians," Caleb explained. "Our ancestral home, basically. A blue planet, just like Philos, but not quite."

Mira blinked. He was describing the planet from his dreams. Or maybe they weren't dreams at all—maybe they were something more.

Caleb continued, his voice carrying the weight of something personal. "There aren't many deserts between cities there. People enjoy traveling to all kinds of landscapes just to see them. The ocean, forests that are always lush and green, fields of flowers."

His expression, normally so composed, carried something different now—an ease, as if he had seen it all firsthand.

Kolo brightened and pulled something from his pocket—a small, carefully folded paper ornament. "Do they have these? My grandma worked really hard to get me these."

Caleb took the delicate object carefully between his fingers. "Origami. Paper's rare on Philos, but not there. It's an everyday necessity. Almost every child learns to fold simple objects."

Kolo's excitement grew. "Tell me more!"

Caleb glanced at Mira, then back at the boy. He crouched down again and grinned. "I'll tell you more... if you give me some unfolded paper."

—

After leaving Lingshir, their spacecraft hovered in orbit, floating among the vast expanse of space. Caleb lay beneath the control panel, switching out internal parts with practiced precision. The ship needed more than just a few fixes, but this would keep them in flight for now.

"Regulator," he said, extending his hand without looking.

Mira placed it in his palm. "Here."

He secured the part and glanced up at her. "You're handling repairs more smoothly now."

She tilted her head slightly. "I've been learning."

Caleb chuckled. "So you do listen when I talk."

Mira didn't answer immediately. Instead, she leaned against the console, watching the endless stretch of space outside. "That boy, Kolo. When you talked about that planet… you described it so vividly. As if you had been there."

He exhaled, rolling onto his side to look up at her. "Feels that way sometimes. Like a place I should know. Maybe it's nothing, or maybe it's something I lost along the way. Either way... it's real to me."

Mira's voice was quiet but certain. "It's real to me too. I don't remember ever being there, but I know it. I know what it's like for kids Kolo's age to go to school there. To live there."

Caleb frowned slightly. She always knew things he didn't. Things about a world neither of them should have known.

He sat up, stretching out his shoulders. "Speaking of memories… what about the amusement park?"

Mira turned to him.

"It's not far from where we are now," Caleb continued. "What do you think?"

She hesitated, then nodded. Wordlessly, she input the coordinates into the system: (X: 4352.74, Y: -982.56, Z: 1287.32).

Caleb watched her hands move over the controls. He had told her about this place long ago, scattered across conversations over the years they were in the isolated pods, barely able to retain any memory. And yet, she had remembered.

He finished his repairs and took a seat beside her. "That amusement park has a hovertrain. It weaves through the whole park—past the Ferris wheel, the roller coasters, even the old merry-go-round."

He traced a rough map of the park on the holographic screen, marking out the train's path. There was something almost natural about the way he did it, as if the memory itself was familiar and comforting.

"Are you happy?" he asked suddenly. "That we're finally going?"

Mira's response was quiet, almost hesitant. "I don't understand what happiness means. But amusement parks are supposed to bring people joy. If they are where dreams come to life, then… I want to experience it."

Caleb pressed his hand against the holographic screen, making it disappear. "Then I'll take you to any place you want to visit."

Mira turned to him. "Is that because you're my friend?"

His lips curled into a small smile. "Yes. I am your friend."

Mira stared at him, defining the word in her mind. Perhaps the slight warmth she felt in that moment was part of it—part of whatever happiness was supposed to be.

The controls hummed softly as their ship adjusted its course.

They were no longer running away. They had a destination.