Beyond the last light of home
The Solar System is now behind the ship. Ahead, the starfield is immense and almost without scale: no surface, no orbit, no nearby world against which the crossing can be measured. The engines remain bright, but the expedition itself becomes small.
That change in scale is also a change within the journey. The previous chapters carried motion—launch, acceleration, escape. Here, distance acquires psychological weight. Human voices fade into the music; wonder remains, but it can no longer be separated from solitude.
Only stars remain ahead, and no familiar light answers from behind. The ship is no longer only leaving a place; it carries that place's absence with it.
How far can you travel before distance begins to change you?