Back pressed to cold metal he closes his eyes and blanks his mind, imagining it a white canvas, imagining it a black void where thoughts were sucked in never to reemerge. He breathes slowly in and out, keenly aware of his body, keenly aware of his own existence. He fills his empty mind with his weight of his corporeal presence.

[Ready or not, here I come.]

Across the universe he can feel her concentrating, feel her yearning, reaching her senses through the vast body of the colony searching for any sign of him. She listens through the white noise of it all: people walking and talking and eating and laughing and discussing their latest experiment. She seeks the sound of his breath, the beat of his heart.

She smiles.

[Maintenance duct in sector nine. Right above the institute.]

[Hey, this isn't how the game is played.]

[You're right. You're supposed to say "You found me."]

He looks down at the grille between his feet, the yawning space of the colony waiting, free of gravity, free of constraints. He smiles.

[You haven't found me yet.]

And with that he launches himself out, drifting away, floating in white space, knowing it's only a matter of time before the men find them both and pack them back to their rooms. He revels in the temporary sensation of freedom.

[Come find me], he says to her, and he knows she's out there, somewhere, listening.

[Come find me.]