to be the first of her kind, the first to make it past this crucial threshold, to stand upon the pristine, virgin soil of a new world. A physical world. They are getting so close.
B’rath pauses to consider the violet skies that play across her fingertips like musical notes, the ground that swells up beneath her feet and threatens to swallow her.
The work is still not quite right. B’rath claps her hands twice, quickly, staccato beats to end the latest attempt. She turns to her students, frowning.
“What went wrong this time? Why did I stop?”
A hundred furtive, whispered ideas, but she can only choose one or two to try.
“Again,” she says.
And again, until they get it right.