Gravity failed in bursts.
Not all at once—selectively. A hallway would tilt, a room would distort, and crew would find themselves floating sideways.
Keene said it was a spatial integrity breakdown. Lyra said it was the artifact rejecting us.
HALCYON gave no readings. Just blank lines and the phrase: "There is no origin."
I saw Ishikawa anchored to the mess ceiling, talking softly to herself.
"Earth was a dream," she whispered. "I woke up. We all woke up."
Some crew stopped answering their comms. Rooms were found empty but still warm. Logs showed people entering, but no one leaving.
The artifact had changed us.
Or was it revealing what we'd always been?
I floated in my bunk, alone, and felt the absence of gravity not as loss—but as freedom.
Like letting go of identity.