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"
You
’
ve
only
made
half
the
journey
,
Thom
.
"
"
But
you
made
it
.
"
"
I
did
,
Thom
.
But
for
me
it
was
different
.
"
Greta
smiled
.
"
For
me
,
everything
was
different
.
"
Then
she
made
the
light
show
change
again
.
None
of
the
other
diners
appeared
to
notice
as
we
began
to
zoom
in
toward
the
Milky
Way
,
crashing
toward
the
spiral
,
ramming
through
shoals
of
outlying
stars
and
gas
clouds
.
The
familiar
landscape
of
the
Local
Bubble
loomed
large
.
The
image
froze
,
the
Bubble
one
amongst
many
such
structures
.
Again
it
filled
with
the
violent
red
scribble
of
the
aperture
network
.
But
now
the
network
wasn
’
t
the
only
one
.
It
was
merely
one
ball
of
red
yarn
amongst
many
,
spaced
out
across
tens
of
thousands
of
light
-
years
.
None
of
the
scribbles
touched
each
other
,
yet
—
in
the
way
they
were
shaped
,
in
the
way
they
almost
abutted
against
each
other
,
it
was
possible
to
imagine
that
they
had
once
been
connected
.
They
were
like
the
shapes
of
continents
on
a
world
with
tectonic
drift
.
"
It
used
to
span
the
galaxy
,
"
Greta
said
.
"
Then
something
happened
.
Something
catastrophic
,
which
I
still
don
’
t
understand
.
A
shattering
,
into
vastly
smaller
domains
.
Typically
a
few
hundred
light
-
years
across
.
"
"
Who
made
it
?
"
"
I
don
’
t
know
.
No
one
knows
.
They
probably
aren
’
t
around
any
more
.
Maybe
that
was
why
it
shattered
,
out
of
neglect
.
"
"
But
we
found
it
,
"
I
said
.
"
The
part
of
it
near
us
still
worked
.
"
