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social skills. To the detriment of almost all else, for that matter.”
    “You don’t see anything troubling in his behavior?”
    “Not presently. With the crucial part of the expedition at hand, we’ll all be subjected to greater pressure. I will tell you that Thompson gave me a specific order to report any signs of abnormal behavior in the crew. Without delay, he said. And he included himself.”
    “That’s interesting.”
    “Mildly. Why the sudden, if it is sudden, interest in Larry? Does delving into our personalities help with your work, your writing? After all, he is a bit of a character.”
    “The mood of the crew is of interest. Our vulnerability to aberrant behavior—and Larry seems most on edge—has the potential to not only jeopardize the success of the mission, but our safety. Besides, nothing exciting has happened … yet.”
    Upon uttering those last words, I knew I’d be called to task. It didn’t take long.
    “And, so,
Kyle
,” Kelly said, accusing me with a wry smile, “our little romps in bed?
They
haven’t been exciting?”
    “Uh huh,” I answered, somewhat sheepishly, certain I would be greeted with the next logical question.
    “Well…?” she asked.
    I didn’t need it spelled out. Addressing the sensitive issue had become unavoidable. Kelly had the right to know if details of our intimate physical relationship were being incorporated into my work, into the mission record for the whole world to eventually see. I had no choice but to confess.
    “I am writing about us. How could I not? I’ll use some discretion, of course, but unless our relationship is in no way pertinent to what transpires during the expedition, the intimate details will very likely remain in my work.”
    I had answered truthfully. Now I was hoping it wouldn’t be an issue that came between us.
    She thought for a long moment and said, “I respect your professional judgment. And
nothing
we do together, in or out of bed, could ever embarrass me.”
    Then, without allowing me time to respond (which was a good thing since I was a little choked up by her faith in me) she half-smiled and turned to leave. I stopped her at the door, spun her around to face me, stared into her eyes and kissed her.
    No additional words exchanged. They didn’t need to be.
    Once again I was alone, or should I say deprived of human company, for Angie was present. I’ve acknowledged that relating to her was simple and easy. What concerned me was why human relationships were, for me, so hard. Returning to my workstation to write, I began to wonder if there was something affecting my relationship with Kelly that I wasn’t fully conscious of; an outside influence that, together with my own emotional baggage, would explain why I would want to hold back my feelings for her.
    An answer suggested itself in the manner by which the crew is forced to conduct day to day life.
    Despite her being a well-appointed ship, our lives onboard are defined by an artificial environment, a veritable prison of our own choosing where time is served with no hope of escape. Oh, sure, we have any number of AI-generated distractions at our fingertips. For a short while they seemed to be enough. But how terribly distant we are from the sight of wide open sky, the touch of a warm breeze on skin, the sound of a summer songbird. Isolated, not only from nature, but from the solace of hearth and home. From everybody and everything that makes us feel human. Even the harshest of Earth’s prisons can no longer deny
all
these simple pleasures, and for those that are denied, a small measure of comfort can be derived from the knowledge that they exist nearby. Perhaps only meters away.
    For the crew of
Desio
they are trillions of kilometers remote.
    Distant to a point where we have begun to doubt, in our darker moments, that they exist at all. By comparison, the scores of people traversing the solar system could at least
see
Earth, are able to communicate with Earth. We are deprived