"Oh, you shouldn't be needing that. It's for our clients who wish to have an extended stay with their loved ones. Of course, if you change your mind, your unlimited account would allow us to move you into a long-stay visitation room. Entirely up to you, of course."

Molly shook her head. "Uh, no. Thanks. I probably won't even need the three hours, to be honest. I'm not even sure what to say to her."

"That's every visitor's biggest fear. Trust me, it goes smoothly. The time will whiz by faster than you will want it to."

"You're probably right. But, no needles, okay?"

"Of course, of course. Now, please, do sit."

She settled into the chair and Stanley scooted the ottoman toward her. Lifting her legs, she let them fall to the padded surface of the stool. The chair was extremely comfortable, but only physically. It reminded Molly of the yearly dental checks the Navy used to subject her to, the thought of which made her stomach feel hollow.

Stanley lifted an object from the tray and held it reverently, both palms up and perfectly flat. A thin wire spooled off the back of the device as he raised it to her head. Molly was reminded of the red Drenard bands as Stanley fit the hoop in place. He stepped back to survey his handiwork.

"Excellent," he said. "As soon as you are ready, I will begin the visitation. Your mother should be expecting you. If you decide to leave early, just exit by using the door you enter through. Also, some of our clients can be quite insistent that their visitors stay longer, so if your time runs out, we will simply bring you back ourselves."

He reached to the side of the chair and brought up a padded strap, placing it over Molly's wrist.

"Wait." Molly shifted her arm out of the way. "What's that?"

"Oh, this is for your safety. The visit will be indistinguishable from reality. When you move your arms and legs, they will often try to comply here. These are simply to make you as comfortable as you can be." Stanley smiled at her, the flesh-colored plastic folding unnaturally at the corners of his mouth.

Molly attempted to smile back, and likely did it just as convincingly. "I think I'd be more comfortable without them."

"Trust me, Ms. Fyde. You wouldn't be. They are very comfortable. Now, lay your head back and relax."

Molly shifted herself a little and pressed her head back into the chair. Stanley secured her wrists and ankles with the straps. His face hovered close to hers as he fastened a padded belt across her chest, the smooth skin on his face poreless and plasticy up close.

"Excellent," he said, stepping back. "Now, when you are ready-"

"I'm ready," she lied.

The frozen smile returned as Stanley reached for something on the small table beside her. He held it up and moved to press a button.

That image-a robot in a nice suit pressing a small device-burned itself into Molly's brain.

It was the last thing she would ever see of the room.

25.

A wall of wood appeared directly in front of her, so close she could see the rise and fall between the grain. It swung away from her, and as soon as more light spilled across it, she recognized it for an old-fashioned door.

Molly squinted into the light that poured through.

Natural sunlight.

She reached out with one hand, guiding the door all the way open, and stepped through.

She stood on a porch. Below her bare feet, she felt the rough ridges of poorly milled planks. A flimsy-looking rail stood before her, beyond which lay a grassy lawn crowded with people.

Children. The ages varied, but they were all female. Light-colored dresses trailed behind several as they chased one another and squealed with delight. Another cluster sat on the grass, laughing. Ringing the large lawn was a collection of similar houses, their doors squeaking open and banging as children flew through them with more chirps of delight and laughter.

Molly scanned the crowd, looking for her mom. She moved to the railing and leaned out into the bright sun. It all looked and felt so real. She could smell the grass, could feel the cool wind on her cheeks. Something fluttered against her thighs; she looked down the front of a bright yellow dress, just like the others wore.

She'd entered a dream, only more vivid and solidly consistent.

A thrill grew in her with the weather and the sounds of so much joy. She felt her mission slipping away, replaced with an immediate fondness for this place. Nostalgia constricted her throat, choking her, but in a good way.

She knew this place. Memories, long forgotten, tried to make themselves known- "Mollie?"

She turned, searching for the source of the voice. On the porch of the neighboring house stood a woman, cradling a cloth bundle. A baby. Molly ran down the steps of one porch, through the bright green grass, and vaulted over the steps leading up to her mother. She found herself giggling and smiling and leaving a wake of fluttering yellow, just like the other kids.

Rushing into her mother's embrace, careful of the baby, she cried out: "Mom!"

"Oh, sweetheart." Her mother held her with one arm, rubbing it up and down her back. It felt alien and normal at the same time.

"I'm so glad you've come to visit." Her mother pulled away and looked to the other porch with bright, brown eyes Molly recognized as her own. Her cheeks, sprinkled with a constellation of faded freckles, rose up in cheerful bunches atop a smile. Her mom looked so young-full, wavy hair hung down past her shoulders and wrapped around her thin, flawless neck.

"Is your father here?" her mother asked.

"No, Mom. Dad couldn't make it."

"Oh well, not surprising." Parsona took a step toward the edge of the porch and called, "Mollie!" into the crowd of girls. A single child turned her head before rushing over to her mother. She was one of the older children, ten or eleven years old.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Will you hold Mollie for me while I visit with my daughter?"

"I would love to!" she squealed, cradling the bundle carefully and skipping back down the steps.

Molly watched her go, then asked her mom: "Are they all named Mollie?"

"Every one. Your father and I just adore that name."

Molly turned and saw one of her mother's hands rubbing a swollen belly. She looked back to the lawn. "How many of them are there?"

"The next one will be number thirty two. They come even faster now, which makes me happy." She gestured to a swing set tucked in one corner of the yard. "Would you like to swing?"

Molly laughed. "I'm a little big for that, Mom."

Parsona nodded. She turned toward the end of the porch where a double swing hung on the end of two chains.

It hadn't been there before.

Molly took its appearance in stride and thought of Stanley's encouragement. This certainly was more natural than she'd hoped.

But then, she hadn't gotten to the hard part yet.

They crossed to the porch swing and sat together, their dresses folding over each other in the soft breeze. Parsona pushed them back and forth with her long legs, and a comfortable silence grew as they watched the children play in the grass. Molly recognized the scene; she felt like she'd played there herself in the few good dreams she'd had.

"How's your father?" Parsona eventually asked.

"He's good," Molly lied, unsure of why she would. Maybe to not spoil the world her mom had created? Or perhaps because she sought to gather information, not leave it behind. She tried reminding herself that she sat beside a copy of her mother from sixteen years ago. Her real mother lived within the ship that bore her name.

But . . . Molly could reach out and touch this one, could smell spring in her hair. The other one was just a voice and some green phosphorous font on a nav screen.

Doubt crept up, followed by fondness and familiarity. Filial duty joined them. These internal saboteurs arranged themselves in a phalanx of worry, all armed to force Molly to waver.

She summoned her military training and shouted them down, calling them to attention. She realized she hadn't come adequately prepared for this. Especially not to handle it all by herself.

"Well, tell your father I'd love it if he stopped by," her mom said, interrupting her thoughts.

"I will," Molly promised, but from what Stanley had told her, the fact that her father didn't already exist in her mind meant her mom was the one lying this time. To herself, perhaps.

"I do enjoy getting visits," Parsona continued, "and catching up with news from the outside."

Molly froze.

Visits?

"Who's been by to visit, Mom?" She tried to ask the question calmly, but wasn't sure that she succeeded.

"Well, nobody lately. But an old friend used to drop by all the time. He stopped coming years ago-now, what was his name? Come now, you must know him. He and your father were such good friends."

"Are you talking about Lucin?"

"Wade Lucin? Of course not. How could I forget Wade's name? No, this was a new friend. We met him on Lok. On the very day you were born, in fact. It happened right out there."

Parsona pointed beyond the playing children. Molly looked across the commons and noticed the sunlight fade, as if a cloud passed overhead. But then a rainbow popped up in the distance. And out of nowhere, a flock of doves appeared, fluttering above the children who ran after them with little hands spread open, shrieking with delight.

"Now isn't that lovely," Parsona said.

Molly turned back to her mother.

"This is Lok?" she whispered, even though she knew it was. Part of her knew this old house, the very porch. But it had been so long ago, and she'd been so young.

Parsona's eyes didn't leave the rainbow and the dancing children. Couldn't, perhaps.

"Yes," she said, smiling.

"You and Dad were working on something here, weren't you? What was it? Anything important?"

"Now, sweetheart, why would you want to know about that?"

"It's important, Mom. To me."

"It's dreary stuff, that's what it is. And it's all my visitors ever want to talk about for some reason."

Molly looked at her arms and marveled at the simulated goose bumps. "I'm sorry, Mom. Honest. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't really important." She rubbed her arms.

"I suppose it can't hurt. I don't see how any of that can be considered top secret now, right?"

"Of course not. I just want to hear your side of it-to get to know you better."

The pace of the swing picked up; Molly couldn't tell if the motion was making her nauseous, or if it was something else.

Her mother spoke, her brown eyes focusing beyond the horizon, "Our investigation ended up leading us to this very house." She glanced at Molly before gazing back over the commons, toward the past. "Isn't that funny? Anyway, it was a routine assignment, my very first undercover operation. I was so excited to get the job. You just wouldn't believe what I put up with on my way to Special Assignments . . . "

Her voice trailed off-another cloud passed over.

"Anyway, your father and I posed as a couple-blending with the frontier life on Lok while we looked for an unauthorized source of fusion fuel-"

"Fusion fuel?" Molly asked, diverting the stream of consciousness.

"That's right." Parsona studied her intently. "You sound surprised. Anyway, we tracked the source all the way back to this very village. It took us almost a year to work our way into the group." Parsona frowned. "A bunch of anti-GN radicals and Drenard sympathizers, they were. And we were getting close to their source, the initial supply point, when-"

The porch shimmered, the wooden planks waving as if they were fluid. Parsona planted her feet, jarring the swing to a halt.

Two Mollies dashed up, their feet slapping solid wood. They had trays of goodies with them.

"Tea and cake, Mom? We made them ourselves!" They said it in unison. In harmony.

"Now, isn't that lovely of you girls. Go ahead, Mollie, take some." What Molly took in was the scene around her. All four of them in identical dresses. Everything so real and yet so surreal. When she'd first arrived, the girls had looked nothing like her, but now they bore an eerie resemblance.

She managed a meek "thanks" and accepted a cup of tea. She blew the steam into wisps, but didn't take a sip. She wasn't even sure what it would mean if she did.

"Mom, I need to know if something important happened here. Something that might mean big trouble for the galaxy-or anything like that. Do 'two doors' mean anything to you?"

Parsona seemed to chew on this. She cupped her tea in both hands and nodded to the two Mollies. They ran back to the commons to join the others. "There was one thing," she said. "My other visitor always wanted to talk about it, I'm not sure why. While we were here, a bunch of settlers started going missing. We were looking into it on the side and reporting back to the Navy, but-"

"Mrs. Fyde?" Molly and her mother both turned; a Stanley walked across the lawn to greet them. He nodded at Molly, "I'm so sorry to interrupt your visit." Then he turned to Parsona. "You have another visitor, Mrs. Fyde. Normally I wouldn't intrude, but it's your account benefactor. He would love to see you at your earliest convenience."

Parsona smoothed her dress across her thighs with both hands, her cup of tea somehow gone. "Well, isn't this lovely," she said. "Two visitors on the same day! Is it my tall friend?"

"I believe so, Mrs. Fyde. It's the only other visitor you have ever had."

"Well, this is simply too delightful! Molly, would you like to meet him?" She turned to Stanley before Molly could respond, "Can we do that?"

Stanley smiled. Molly noticed his flesh looked flawless in this place-perfectly natural.

"I will inform Mr. Byrne that you are with your daughter and see what he says."