The common room was a cathedral of silence and frost. The violet light from the LSM-43 cast long, skeletal shadows. Masha stood directly in front of the aperture, her small face bathed in that alien glow.

Anya’s blood ran cold. "It's not showing us the past. It's showing us a suggestion ."

She pulled the lever. The lights died. The hum stuttered into a final, mournful sigh. The violet glow vanished, leaving only the red emergency lamps and the sound of two girls breathing.

Masha ignored her. She padded down the spiral staircase in her thick wool socks. Anya cursed under her breath—a word she'd learned from the engineer—and followed.

Masha gasped.

The adults had been afraid of it. They said it was listening. Then the supply ship didn't come. Then the heating elements in the east wing failed. Then the adults stopped getting out of their bunks. One by one, they walked out into the -60°C white and never came back.