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Jonny doesn’t know where they are. They were aiming for 21st century England. They were supposed to play a show. This place looks like England, judging from the mediocre quality of the beaches, but it looks like the wrong century. The dunes of the beach are a murky tan, hugely disappointing after the snow white sands of Crystalis II or the glinting black volcanic beaches of Pompeii Nova. Judging from the way everyone is dressed and the occasional whirr of starships passing overhead on their way to spaceport, this is quite a few centuries later than they were aiming for, but everyone was so tired of space travel that they decided to stop here for a while anyway.
Jonny complained, but he was ignored. He doesn’t really care for beaches, especially not mediocre English ones, and he’s eager to go perform, but the others insisted, so he’s at the beach with the rest of them. The Aurora is safely back at spaceport, not far from here, which should have been a sign they were in the wrong century.
Tim looks delighted though. He claims to have missed England. Jonny can’t relate. He’s never wanted to go back to where he came from, and he thinks most of the other Mechanisms feel the same. And besides, for some reason, Earth’s United Kingdom is one of their most regular stops, so they really haven’t been away long enough to miss it.
Jonny shakes his head and kicks up the beige sand with the heel of his boot. He follows the others closer to the ocean’s edge. He doesn’t think it’s warm enough to justify going to the beach either. It’s only about twenty degrees Celsius. That’s autumn weather, back where he’s from.
While most of the other Mechanisms are fucking around at the edge of the water or attempting to build sandcastles, Jonny goes for a wander. He’s wondering when and where exactly they are and if there’s still any chance of doing a show. The beach is fairly populated so it must be sometime in the summer.
He walks down the shore, passing a family with two kids, one excited and the other complaining, and some older folks relaxing in the lukewarm sun. He thinks he sees some kind of guest services stand up ahead, and he heads for it, thinking maybe they’ll have something with the time and place on it.
He passes in front of an older woman sunbathing, and he swears he hears someone say his name. “Jonny?”
He frowns, but he doesn’t stop until he hears, “Jonny Vangelis?”
His head whips around to find the source of the voice, and his heart beats out a mechanical racket. His hand reaches for his holster then stills.
The woman who said his name—his old name—is ordinary-looking, in her sixties if he had to guess, with grey hair that might once have been blonde or light brown. She wears a yellow sundress as she lies on a reclining chair with an old paperback across her lap. Now that’s old school. Everyone else has tablets or holo-readers, but she’s clutching a frankly ancient copy of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. No identity is forthcoming, but something about this woman sets him on edge, and he hopes to whatever deity exists that she didn’t really say his name.
“Oh, I’m so sorry—” she says hurriedly, looking embarrassed. “I thought for a moment—You look just like my son, but you can’t be him. You’re far too young, and I haven’t seen him in decades… So sorry for bothering you.”
“Wait,” he hisses. Dread hits him so hard he almost buckles. “What year is it?”
She tells him, and he goes pale.
“Too young,” he repeats. “You’re supposed to be dead!”
“I beg your pardon?” she says.
“You are dead,” he says, waving his hands in irritation. “Every other time I’ve been to Earth, you’ve been dead or not even born! Who the hell brought us here? Was it Ivy? Brian? I’m going to kill them—”
“What in the world are you talking about? You can’t be my son,” she says, shaking her head.
“Yeah, well, you can’t be Betty Sue Vangelis, but here we are,” he snaps. He’s not exactly sure who he’s angry at, but he’s furious at someone.
Her eyes widen. “It’s Elizabeth Susan Hampton now,” she says.
He makes a face. “Right, you got remarried. To that rich fucker I never met.”
“He wasn’t rich. He was just financially responsible,” she protests. “And how on Earth can you be my Jonny?”
He shrugs. “Well, that’s a long story. You know what, I’m probably not even him—“
“But you know my name,” she insists. “Jonny? It’s you, isn’t it?”
His stomach churns like he drank engine oil, and he wants to run away, but he’s rooted to the spot. After a moment he says, “Yes. I’m Jonny.”
Before either of them can figure out what to do with this information, several members of his crew appear.
“Jonny, why are you talking to some elderly lady?” Ashes says, appearing and resting their elbow on his shoulder.
“Ashes, for fuck’s sake, not now—“ he says, at wit’s end.
“What’s gotten into you?” Tim says, raising an eyebrow.
Jonny pinches the bridge of his nose in irritation and mild panic as Ashes, Tim, Marius, and the Toy Soldier all gather around him.
“Jonny, who are these people?” Elizabeth says. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Jonny shoots Ashes a murderous look and sighs. “This is Ashes O’Reilly, ship’s quartermaster. Gunpowder Tim, our master at arms. Baron Marius Von Raum, ship’s medic who is neither a baron nor a doctor,” he says, gesturing at each of them in turn. “And the Toy Soldier who is also here.”
“Hello!” it says. “Do you like tea and scones?”
“Yes, I do,” Elizabeth says, looking perplexed.
“Everyone, this is…” Jonny trails off. “Elizabeth Susan Hampton, formerly Betty Sue Vangelis.”
“I’m his mother,” she says.
“What?” Gunpowder Tim says, almost comically shocked.
“Huh, thought you were dead,” Ashes says.
“Hi Mrs. d’Ville!” Marius says.
Jonny scoffs. “Not even close. Even Vangelis would have been closer.”
“You can just call me Elizabeth,” she says. “Are you going by Jonny d’Ville now?”
He coughs. “It’s a stage name…”
“Oh, you’re performers!” she says. “Is that how you all know each other?”
“Yeah, sort of,” Jonny says. “I don’t really know them, and we should get out of here—“
He tries to head off in the direction of Brian, Raphaella, and Ivy, but Ashes intercepts him.
“We’re not in a rush,” they say, grinning as Jonny stares daggers at them.
Elizabeth looks between Jonny and the other Mechanisms. “So you’re my son’s… coworkers?”
“It’s more of a roommates situation,” Ashes says. “We share the same starship.”
“More of a queerplatonic found family polycule,” Marius says.
“We’re in a band!” the Toy Soldier says brightly.
“He’s my husband,” Tim says.
“All lies,” Jonny says, shaking his head. “I don’t know these people.”
His mother rightly ignores him. For some reason, what she latches onto is: “You’re musicians?”
“Yes,” Jonny says. “We do play shows and make music and tell stories. That part is true.”
“Jonny sings!” the Toy Soldier chirps. “It’s jolly good fun!”
“He also talks a lot,” Ashes says. “Some would say too much.”
“It’s narration,” he says. “And sometimes banter. The fans love it.”
“Well, that sounds marvelous,” Elizabeth says. “I’d like to see one of your shows.”
“No, no, you wouldn’t!” Jonny insists while the other Mechanisms chortle and snicker with the exception of the Toy Soldier who just smiles. “Absolutely not going to happen!”
“Are you really married to my son?” Elizabeth asks Tim, and Jonny cringes. He has never once wanted to introduce any of his partners to his parents, though Tim looks excited and nervous in a way Jonny would find endearing if he weren’t so annoyed.
“Yes, for about, erm… how long has it been now?” Tim asks.
Jonny crosses his arms. “I don’t know. At least a few decades.”
“Yes, a few decades,” Tim agrees.
“By what calendar?” Elizabeth says, brow furrowing. “Jonny, how old are you?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Older than you.”
“That can’t be possible,” she says very evenly. “None of this actually makes any sense. How are you here?”
“Ask our navigator. We’re supposed to be in the 21st century, playing a show,” Jonny says crossly.
“Must’ve taken the wrong wormhole,” Ashes muses.
“Or the right one, depending on your perspective!” Marius puts in. “We haven’t had a family reunion in ages.”
“Have we ever had a family reunion?” Tim says, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, no, not really,” Marius says.
“Yeah, because nothing about us is compatible with family,” Jonny snaps. He stomps away from the space pirates gathered around the woman he once called mother. He knows it’s her. He didn’t recognize her at first, but the more she talked, the more certain he became. Leave it to a mother to recognize her son after more than three decades.
In his defense, it has been considerably longer for him. He isn’t even sure how long. She may as well be a stranger. Is he supposed to be happy to see her? The last memory he has of her is her leaving him behind on New Texas. And she shouldn’t be happy to see him either. She wouldn’t be if she knew anything about who he is now.
“Hey,” Tim says, interrupting his dark thoughts. “What are you sulking about?”
Jonny turns to see that Tim followed him further up the beach, and now the gunner stares at him with hands on his hips.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Jonny says.
“Not really. You know some of us would be thrilled to see family again,” Tim says.
“Yeah, well, before you became a war criminal and a space pirate, I imagine your relationship with family was quite different from mine,” Jonny says. He kicks at the sand in annoyance.
“What, are you still mad she left you behind?” Tim says.
“So what if I am?” Jonny says. “It’s not like she ever apologized.”
“She could now, if you gave her the chance,” Tim points out.
Jonny huffs in frustration and glances about the beach. Elizabeth is still being badgered by his crew mates. Brian, Raphaella, and Ivy have even wandered over to see what all the fuss is about.
“She could, but did you forget the part where I killed her ex-husband?” he hisses.
Tim shrugs. “Well, he was your father, so maybe it balances out.”
“I don’t think any mother wants to hear their child is a murderer,” Jonny says. “Let alone an immortal one.”
“Yeah, well, maybe you should get back over there before one of the others tells her for you then,” Tim says.
“Ah, fuck my life,” Jonny says, trudging back over to his crew and his mother with Tim in tow.
He is annoyed to find the other Mechanisms having a grand time, pestering his mother with questions and jokes. They seem to find the situation hilarious.
“If Jonny’s from New Texas, why are you here?”
“Is New Texas a real place?”
“What was Jonny like as a kid?”
She laughs. “It’s real. Why wouldn’t it be real?”
“Jonny said he made it up,” Ivy says. “I don’t know if New Texas is the lie or the lie is that New Texas is the lie.”
“Oh dear,” Elizabeth says. “Jonny, why are you lying to your friends?”
He splutters indignantly. “They don’t need to know where I’m from—”
“Oh, he was quite sweet when he was small,” she says. “It was only when he was older that he started being a troublemaker.”
“That is untrue. I have never been sweet a day in my life,” Jonny says flatly.
“No, it’s true!” she insists. “You wouldn’t let go of my hand on the first day of kindergarten. I had to send you in with my glove. I filled it with sweets.”
Jonny vaguely recalls this, but it sounds like something that happened to another person, and he doesn’t appreciate being reminded of it. Especially not in front of his crew.
“I do enjoy the idea of a very small Jonny,” Ivy says.
Ashes grins. “Mama’s boy?”
Jonny sneers. “Your teasing means nothing to me. You already know I’m queer as fuck.”
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” Ashes says, undeterred.
“Do you live here?” Marius asks.
“No, I live in London,” Elizabeth says. “I’m here on vacation. I’m staying at a house nearby. Would you like to see it?”
“No!” Jonny says. “We should go back to the ship! I don’t care about your stupid vacation house.”
He is drowned out by the vehement agreement of the other Mechanisms. The Toy Soldier seems particularly set on having a tea party, and Brian thinks it would be rude to turn down an invitation.
Jonny trudges along at the back of the pack, muttering darkly to himself and kicking up sand. To his surprise, Ashes hangs back to walk next to him.
“You know, if she’s really pissing you off, we can just kill her and leave,” they say.
Jonny snorts. “Hilarious.”
“Who says I was joking?” Ashes says, smirking. They give Jonny’s hand a squeeze.
“We’ll keep that option in our back pocket,” Jonny murmurs, somewhat appeased. “You know you’re lucky you don’t have any parents.”
“I know,” they say. “Nobody to disappoint, and nobody to miss.”
“Exactly,” Jonny says firmly.
The vacation house is a charming little seaside bungalow with a gate outside and big windows with white curtains. It’s also, Jonny notices, larger than the house he grew up in.
Elizabeth lets them into the house, and Jonny can’t help but be struck by the incongruity of his ragtag and gun-toting crew inside this peaceful English cottage. Well, oddly enough, the Toy Soldier seems right at home as it helps Elizabeth brew tea.
Elizabeth. He suppresses a scoff. His father never called her that. His mother was a woman named Betty Sue Vangelis. The only thing the woman serving his friends tea has in common with her is the lilting voice asking how they want their tea. He hovers by the doorway until she catches his eye, and if his mechanical heart knew how to feel guilty, he would. Instead, he feels just a sick twisting in his stomach.
“Are you going to join us?” she says.
He nods stiffly. The Mechanisms are spread out around the living room, most of them with cups of tea. He takes an open seat on the sofa which happens to be next to Brian.
“Your mother has a very different disposition than you do,” he comments.
He shrugs. “It’s a facade. She’s as heartless as I am; she just hides it better.”
“I doubt that. On both accounts,” the DrumBot says.
Jonny doesn’t know what he means by that. He sits until Elizabeth comes by and offers him a cup of tea.
“Splash of milk, no sugar,” she says.
He accepts it begrudgingly.
“When did you get your ears pierced?” she says, and he scoffs at the inanity of the comment.
“When I was about fifteen,” he says. “About a year after you left.”
“Oh… Your father never mentioned—“
“I’m sure he didn’t,” Jonny says. “And you never visited.”
“Do we have to have this conversation now?” she says quietly. “Can’t you just tell me about all of your friends? Your husband?”
“You can ask them if you want. You should talk to Ivy. She knows more about Shakespeare than either of us,” he says.
“Is that true, Ivy?” Elizabeth calls, stepping away from Jonny to address the archivist nestled into an armchair with Marius beside her and Raphaella perched on the arm. “Do you know more about Shakespeare than I do?”
“I have memorized all of his plays and sonnets, in addition to a wealth of scholarship concerning his body of literature and his life,” she says. “My favorite play is A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
“Ugh. The comedies,” Jonny mutters.
“It is one of his best comedies,” Elizabeth says. “Though I love the histories the most. Does Jonny still favor the tragedies?”
His traitorous crew mates instantly agree all at once.
“Yes, definitely.”
“Obsessed with them.”
“The bloodier the better.”
“I didn’t know he’d even read the comedies until I’d known him for decades honestly.”
“Okay,” Jonny says, fuming. “It’s not my fault that his tragedies contain his best works. Hamlet? Julius Caesar? Romeo and Juliet? Hello?”
“You can’t just stand a happy ending,” Tim teases.
“Isn’t Julius Caesar a history though?” Elizabeth says, smiling.
“We’re not having this argument again,” Jonny says. “The Roman tragedies are primarily tragedies, because they don’t have anything to do with English history or kings!”
“The scholarship generally supports this,” Ivy says.
“How long have you known my son?” Elizabeth asks.
“That information is difficult to access, but records indicate it has been a long, long time,” the archivist says. “I have almost no memories prior to meeting Jonny.”
Jonny smirks, glad that question was directed at Ivy.
It was clear Elizabeth didn’t know what to make of Ivy’s response, but she was undeterred as she took a seat in a hard-backed chair she had pulled in from the kitchen and sipped her tea.
“So I’ve heard quite a few things… Co-workers, roommates, spouse, bandmates, erm… polycule?” she says. “How exactly do you all know Jonny?”
Jonny shakes his head as all the crew goes to answer immediately, talking over each other. He doesn’t know what she expected, asking everyone at once.
“You guys really don’t need to answer that!” Jonny shouts over the din, but they ignore him.
Elizabeth laughs, and Jonny resents her attempts to charm his friends. Maybe Ashes was right, and they should just kill her.
“Do you want the real answer?” Ashes says, grinning. “We’ll have to send Jonny out of the room so we don’t embarrass him.”
Marius nods. “He’s easily embarrassed by displays of affection.”
“What affection?” Jonny protests. “Our relationships are strictly business!”
“I thought we were sort of dating,” Marius says, looking disappointed.
“I’m rescinding that statement and any sort of romantic or queerplatonic intent toward you,” Jonny huffs.
Marius pouts, and Raphaella pats his shoulder. “He isn’t serious.”
Raphaella turns to Elizabeth. “Jonny and I are romantically involved on a semi-committed basis. I am married to Ivy and Marius.”
Jonny slumps in his seat, wishing he could disappear. Somehow, his mother’s polite smile and “Oh, how nice!” are more insufferable than any expression of confusion or disgust would be.
“I am in a similar position to Raphaella,” Ivy says. “I consider Jonny to be my partner, and I love him.”
“Thanks, Ivy,” he mutters, putting his face in his hands.
“Oh! My turn!” the Toy Soldier says. “Jonny is my friend, and we sing songs together, and I love him and all the rest of the crew.”
“Jonny and I are married, and I’m also married to Ashes,” Tim says. “Couldn’t tell you what Jonny and Ashes have going on, to be honest.”
“Jonny’s my best mate,” Ashes says. “We did get married on Nuevas Vegas.”
Jonny squints at them. “No, we didn’t—ah, shit, I guess we did… I think that’s only legally binding on Nuevas Vegas anyway.”
“It was for the bit,” Ashes says.
“That sounds like a fun time,” Elizabeth says.
“Jonny does not particularly care for me, but I nonetheless consider him to be part of the family,” Brian says. “We’re stuck with each other.”
“Too true,” Jonny mutters.
“Part of the family,” Elizabeth says, smiling. “That’s sweet.”
“Well, they’re more family than you are,” Jonny can’t resist pointing out.
Elizabeth sighs and crosses her arms. She turns to look at him. “So, we’re going to have this conversation now,” she says. “Would you prefer your friends and partners were here for it, or shall we ask them to leave?”
“I don’t care,” he says, ignoring how small her crossed arms make him feel. “Would you prefer to have an audience?”
Some of his crew are grimacing, and his bravado falters somewhat. He stands up and sets his cup down aggressively on the side table and storms off into the adjoining kitchen. His mother can follow if she wants to. He doesn’t care.
The kitchen is large enough to contain an island with tall chairs, ample counterspace, rustic cupboards of polished pale wood, a large stove with six burners, a shiny metal sink, a cutting edge dishwasher and fridge, and a door to a walk-in pantry. The entryway to the kitchen has no door, but most of it is blocked off by a wall, and Jonny stomps over to the farthest corner and sits on the counter. It’s made of smooth stone and cool to the touch, unmarred by any stains or chips.
He can hear Elizabeth’s footsteps, but he stares at the floor.
She drags over a chair from the island and takes a seat in front of him. “Go ahead and say it,” she says.
“Say what?” he says, looking at her. He can’t read her expression. The lights aren’t even on in the kitchen. The only light comes in through the kitchen windows.
“What you’re angry with me about,” she says. “Say I abandoned you. Say I wasn’t there when you needed me.”
“Well, you weren’t,” he says stiffly. Anger starts to burn in his chest, but he holds it back. “You did abandon me.”
“I know,” she says wistfully. “It certainly seems that way.”
Her somber admission angers him more, and he bursts out, “Why? Why didn’t you take me with you? Why did you leave me behind?”
Her eyes are large and full of regret, but he doesn’t feel sorry for her. “I wanted you to finish school—” she says.
“Bullshit,” Jonny snaps. “I would’ve been fine transferring schools. I would’ve preferred transferring schools! Any school in England would have been better than the one you left me in!”
“I know,” she says again.
“Was it that rich fucker? Hampton?” he demands. “Did he not want me around?”
“No, it wasn’t—” she stammers. “He didn’t care. I could have convinced him…”
Jonny scoffs. “So you just didn’t want me around.”
“No, of course I did!” his mother insists, wringing her hands. “It was your father. I thought losing both of us would be too much for him.”
“So what!” Jonny shouts. “You should have chosen me! You didn’t even ask me what I thought or what I wanted!”
“You were just a child…” she says.
“Yeah? Well, I was supposed to be your child! You were supposed to do what was best for me!” His hands are shaking, but his mind feels crystal clear. His rage is sharp as a knife.
“I know. I tried!” she says.
“You failed,” he says flatly.
“I was going to come back for you…” she says.
“Yeah, and why didn’t you?” he says, crossing his arms.
“Because…” She trails off. For the first time, she looks completely at a loss for words.
Jonny scoffs. “Couldn’t be bothered?”
“I didn’t want to go back. I didn’t want to set foot in that place again. I was happy to have left that life behind. You know that I wasn’t happy there,” she says pleadingly.
“And you think I was?” Jonny says with a derisive laugh.
“I was selfish,” she says. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, it runs in the family,” he says. “It’s all in the past now.”
“Does that mean you forgive me?” she says.
He shrugs, feeling the weight of his immortal life. The anger still eats at him, but it has nowhere to go. His mother is just a woman, as equally capable of selfishness and love as any other human being. The only difference is that she made him who he is. If he escaped New Texas with her, who would he be now?
There’s no way of knowing.
“It’s been long enough,” he says. “Let’s not argue about it.”
She nods. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he says. He slides off the counter and walks around her to head back into the living room. “Just don’t embarrass me in front of my crew.”
She laughs quietly. “I’ll do my best not to.”
He walks back into the living room, pointedly ignoring Ashes and Raphaella who were eavesdropping by the door and going over to sit by Ivy and Marius.
“Do we need to leave?” Marius asks.
“We can stay a while longer,” Jonny says.
The living room is crowded with all nine of them, but they make it work, and Jonny lets go of his anger just enough to enjoy himself just a bit. His crew seemed so excited to meet his mother, and despite it all, he doesn’t want to deny his mother one nice afternoon, a bit of closure. She’s just an ordinary woman, and someday she’ll be dead, and she might as well have some idea what happened to her son.
Jonny is uncharacteristically quiet, letting his loved ones do the talking. He said almost all of what he needed to say to his mother already. He would have guessed his crew would get antsy after all a while, but they must be more sentimental than he thought because they seem to be genuinely enjoying pestering his mother with questions about herself and him. He even lets her answer most of them.
She offers that they stay for dinner, and Jonny begrudgingly agrees. Feeding eight space pirates is a pain, so he’s happy to outsource it to his mother. It seems like the least she can do, but he doesn’t say that.
He just argues with his crew mates about what toppings should be allowed on pizza. This argument happens once a decade or so, and this time, he’s championing jalepeños. Ashes is the only one who agrees with him.
Elizabeth ends up ordering the monstrosity that he and Ashes have agreed upon with an amused shake of her head, and he has to admit that it makes him feel shockingly normal, like the young man he appears to be instead of the ageless monster that he is. It’s nice to pretend. It feels like a game, like playing house.
Once the sun begins to set, they decide to go back to the Aurora, and Jonny feels relieved. His crew files out of the vacation home and starts heading back to spaceport, but Jonny hangs back, feeling like he’s forgetting something.
“Jonny,” Elizabeth says. The others are outside already. It’s just the two of them.
“Yeah?” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets.
“Am I ever going to see you again?” Her eyes look somber, but her voice does not shake.
He considers the question. “No,” he says after a moment. “Probably not. And it’s probably for the best that you don’t. You’re lucky to have made it out of this encounter unscathed.”
“Are you really a space pirate?” she says.
“I would never joke about being a space pirate. I take it very seriously,” he says.
“You loved pirates in grade school,” she says. “The proper old-fashioned ones from the Golden Age of Sail.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You got me a toy cutlass, and I nearly put my eye out with it.”
She laughs. “Yes. Which reminds me. Stay safe, son.”
He could tell her that he won’t. He could tell her that he doesn’t want to. He could let her know that it’s entirely pointless to try. He could say that in a twisted way she really doesn’t have to worry about him. He’ll be fine long after she’s dead and gone.
But he doesn’t say that. He says, “Yeah, yeah, I will.”
His mother has been remarkably composed this entire time, but her eyes shine with tears now as she says, “Can I hug you before you go?”
He has half a mind to say no. Even with his partners, he’s often leery of physical affection. But her request brings a lump to his throat, and he finds himself nodding before he can consider how terrible this would be for his reputation.
She hugs him tight, and he notices for the first time that she’s a few inches shorter than he is. In all his memories, she’s taller that he is. He pats her back somewhat awkwardly.
“Good bye, Jonny,” she says.
“Good bye, Mum,” he says. His voice sounds a bit hoarse for some reason. Must be from all the arguing.
He pulls himself away and bursts out the door before he can stop himself, and he jogs to catch up with the rest of the band.
He falls into step beside Tim who says, “Your mum seemed nice.”
“She’s alright,” Jonny says. His voice cracks.
“You okay?”
Jonny nods. “I’m fine, Tim. I’m just… ready to go home.”
Tim squeezes his hand. “Then let’s go home.”
“Good. I want to sleep. I didn’t even get to do any violence today,” he complains.
“Maybe not, but I think what you and Ashes did to that pizza may have broken some laws somewhere.”
Jonny looks pleased. “Good. Got to keep my law-breaking skills sharp.”
Tim laughs as they board the starship Aurora. When they depart spaceport the next morning, Jonny feels something like finality, like the closing of a book.