The walk back to our quarters seems slow. First contact has jostled me, somehow, in a way that I hadn’t felt at all during the hour of pre-warned waiting. My breath is catching, and I find myself staring at inconsequential details, not actually paying attention to where I’m walking, instead just automatically following my watchmate. She stops, and I come to my senses to find we had arrived, and she leads the way through the door. I stand for a moment just over our threshold, and then move to the couch. It feels like I’m moving through glue.

I sink down into the cushion. I realise my eyes are closed, and force them open, looking blearily around the room. Colour fills my vision, but oddly undifferentiated into objects.

Words are spoken to my right. I don’t hear them, I just hear that they happen. A touch rubs against my right shoulder. Again words, “Ash, breathe! You’ll be okay,” I hear Sylvie comforting me.

How will things be okay? I breathe in anyways, part of me just wanting to prove her wrong. I hate that part of me as soon as I see it in me. She’s a good friend, even if she’s just part of a game. And she’s probably right.

“And now out, come on, feel it leave you, warmer now.”

I exhale, and she’s right, I can feel it not as cold against my mouth and nasal chamber. I inhale again to feel the difference.

“Feel your feet, sitting against the floor. You’re stable, you’re fine. You’re sitting here, next to me. Feel your butt. Notice your body as you breathe, how it shifts and relaxes again. In, out.”

I feel every detail of my body, so comforting in this moment, even though it is faked, a mirage. “Why can’t my body feel like this?” I think. It’s so nice. Nothing is wrong. Why did I succeed at making such a nice character this time?

“It’s okay, don’t ask too much of yourself just now. Relax, Ash. In, out. You’re sitting here, next to me, and you’re going to be able to deal with it, alright? Do you feel the warmth of my hand rubbing your shoulder?”

“I feel your hand. I’m going to be okay,” I reply, looking at her, and find that my eyes are wet with tears. I lick my lips and taste salt. “Oh, God, I’m going to be okay...” Even if they aren’t, even if the aliens come and nuke this planet – that would be terrible game design – I’ll be okay, and get pushed back into Caleb, and I’ll never be Ash again, game over, why couldn’t the eventless watches have continued – even worse game – everything will be fine, we’ll all survive, they wouldn’t do that. I feel a sob tear its way from my throat, and, turning, I pull Syl into a tight hug. “I’m going to be okay...” I repeat.

Sylvie holds me in silence, slowly rubbing her hand up and down my back. It gives me something to breathe to, a pattern and rhythm easier to follow than my thoughts. I slowly hear my crying stop. I didn’t even notice I was crying? Just how out of it was I, there. Sylvie pushes me away from our hug, and looks me in the eyes, hard. “You okay now? Don’t be scared to say no. You can feel bad if you need to.”

“I’m...” I hesitate. “I’ll be okay now. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like that before?”

“Eh, wouldn’t be the first first we’ve seen today, right?” She giggles, and I crack a smile in response. But she gets serious again immediately “You were pretty out of it there. And you said something in the middle there. I don’t know what you meant by it... but if you want to feel a way, you should pursue it. Your body is yours, if you can change it to be more you, you should chase that with everything.”

“It isn’t that simple is it?”

“You tell me. All I see is a pretty girl who seems to enjoy life from one day to the next, who is smart and witty, and stuff. But your body ‘doesn’t feel like this’? And I don’t know what you mean by that, but I’m here for you.”

“I’m not sure how to talk about it with you.”

“So throw it in hypotheticals. I’d be glad to forget weird hints you throw me, if I can help you figure out stuff.” She draws me into the hug again. “Especially stuff that leaks through when you’re deep in a fog like that.”

“That isn’t enough. I’m sorry, I’ll figure this stuff out, I promise. Your offer means a lot, anyways.” I pull out of the hug and curl up, grabbing a handy pillow to form a nice soft thing to grip in a hug. If I can change my body to be more me. I think I know how my body can be more me. Being Ash feels so natural. My everything feels more everything-y. I see the same as I ever did, but it still is sharper. I feel the itch on the inside of my left elbow so much clearer. Ash is more me than Caleb ever was, and there is a clear difference that underlies that alteration of self.

But how on Earth, or Ceres, on whichever little rock in space I come to, can I be more Ash-y in real life? I need to walk around. I can’t just spend my life in a simulated world. As nice as it is to customise faces, and bodies, and all that, you can’t just do character-customisation on yourself. My face is my face. My left pinky has that little scar – unless I spend altogether insane amounts of money on changing that. Because you can buy that, if you want it desperately enough.

Do I want to be not Caleb that desperately? I can probably handle it, right?

I think about pausing the game, exiting the hibernation, and swinging over to the console. I can visualise doing it so easily, and yet each time I see my hand, my foot, my torso torquing through the motions I’d do, my imagination flinches.

I can’t handle it. No wonder most people don’t want to astrogate. Is this why I was so shunned by the social circles at Ganymede University?

I imagine a giant party, a dysfunctionally large one, and about me attending it as Ash. And I’m still lurking at the edge, participating enough to be present but hardly enough to define anyone’s night. But as I’m doing that, I’m laughing out loud instead of chuckling dryly. I’m meeting people I would never approach as Caleb.

I’m actually being myself.

My body can definitely be more me. And it might be possible to make that a reality.

Sylvie sits down next to me again, with a plate of grilled cheese sandwiches – enough to be filling, but not too many, a good estimate. I realise I hadn’t notice her get up, let alone that the room was starting to smell like food, but I happily accept her offering. We eat all of them, sitting next to each other, occasionally catching eye contact and smiling at each other, but happily silent with the food.

“Thank you, Sylvia. You’ve helped me a lot,” I say, as I finish up my portion of the delightful cheesy bready goodness. “Probably more than you know?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sylvie replies. “It’s why we’re in pairs, right? So we can help support each other. I’m sure you’ll need to support me soon enough. And if not me, then just keep paying it forward.”

“I’ll make sure to,” I nod. There should really be some sort of alert going around about this make-your-self-more-you thing. It’s important. “I... How are you doing right now?”

“I was a little off-balance by our watch, but I’m feeling normal now.”

“I’m sorry we couldn’t talk about it.”

“There’ll be time enough for that, and we’ll know more about what actually happened later, too. I’m feeling tired enough to sleep, though.”

“Me too,” I nod. “I just keep on wanting to thank you. I guess I’ll just say sleep well, and leave it there for now at least?” We hug each other again, and a moment of silent smiling leaves me feeling warm as we each make our way into our rooms, to find sleep’s embrace once again.