PROJECT: CAYRO

Star Zaraki:

August 19, 2025

04:26 EST

The Autumn

Atlantic Ocean 36˚58’32” N-68˚36’26” W

I lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, my thoughts churning in an endless loop. The white cat had appeared in my dreams again. It had been nearly two years since his last visit, and his sudden return left me feeling unsettled. Before the temporary procedure, he would visit me regularly, guiding me through my dreams with his snarky comments and mysterious demeanor. He always refused to tell me his name, flashing that maddening Cheshire grin and teasing that I’d figure it out eventually.

The cat, with his pristine white fur and stark black tail, had a personality that was as sharp as his appearance. His snarky bluntness was something I had grown to look forward to, a strange comfort in the surreal landscapes of my dreams. He never asked about the crew or life on the Autumn. His curiosity was always centered on the outside world—what was happening beyond the ship, beyond the confines of my reality. Sometimes, he would throw complicated math equations at me, making it a game to see how quickly I could solve them. I usually got them right. Math had always been my favorite subject, after all.

I had been homeschooled on the Autumn, my ability to absorb information rapidly pushing me through my studies at an accelerated pace. By sixteen, I had technically graduated from high school. A few months ago, I completed my general college studies, earning an associate degree in advanced mathematics. Now, I was trying to figure out what to focus on for my advanced degree, though it felt pointless since I was stuck on this ship. The cat’s questioning became our game, a challenge I secretly enjoyed.

But this time, his visit was different, and it bothered me. Seeing the cat interact with Cayro in my dream sparked something I had never felt before—jealousy. It gnawed at me, a sharp, bitter emotion that left me feeling even more out of place. When I tried to speak to either of them, it was as if I didn’t exist, like I was a ghost observing a world I no longer belonged to. The cat, in his usual fashion, had pulled out his familiar notebook and pen—items I had seen countless times during his visits.

I even tried to touch Cayro, desperate to make some kind of connection, to be acknowledged. But he walked right through me as if I were nothing but a shadow, an empty echo. It was unnerving, to say the least. I followed them both to the mirror, the same mirror that always appeared when the cat visited me. It was his way of entering my dreams. But this time, the dreamscape was different—an empty, featureless void, as if we were suspended somewhere in the atmosphere, caught between worlds. My dreams had always been rooted in familiar places: parts of the Autumn or open fields, never this eerie emptiness.

And then there was the mirror. The cat had always told me not to follow him into the mirror. It was a rule, one I had never questioned. So why was he leading Cayro into it? I tried to stop him, to call out, but my voice was gone, stolen by the dream’s strange logic. It wasn’t the first time I had lost my voice in a dream, but this time it felt more urgent, more wrong. I watched, helpless, as Cayro stepped into the mirror and vanished, leaving me alone in the void. I woke up drenched in cold sweat, my heart pounding, the questions swirling in my mind with no answers in sight.

Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I blinked at the faint glow of my old stickers, still clinging to the ceiling like remnants of a childhood that felt both distant and ever-present. Thirteen years—more than half my life—spent within the same four walls of the Autumn. The same dark grey walls, the same unyielding ceiling, the same cold window, and the same sterile pneumatic door. No matter how many times I tried to decorate or rearrange, the pervasive grey of the room swallowed any attempts at warmth or personality.

The bunk bed and armoire, both made of the same cold, grey aluminum, were bolted down, unmovable fixtures that refused to bend to my will. Across from the bed, my desk sat with my prized gaming laptop—a small piece of freedom in a world otherwise devoid of color. After much trial and error, I settled on a color scheme that seemed to make the best of a bad situation: black and bright purple. The black melded with the dark grey, masking its harshness, while the purple added the splash of vibrancy I craved. The crew often called it "emo-esque," but I didn’t care. It suited me just fine.

The Captain, of course, had to inject his sense of humor into my space. A few years back, he gifted me a pink gaming chair—a color I loathed with every fiber of my being, and he knew it. It became a game between us. I would swap the chair out for his hot rod red one whenever he wasn’t looking, sneaking into his office like a phantom in the night. He always got it back, but one of these days, I’d win for good. Because, of course, I always win.

I felt the stickiness of dried sweat clinging to my skin, a lingering reminder of the dream that had startled me awake. The thought of it made my skin crawl, so I slowly climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom, tucked into the corner of my room between my desk and the door. The bathroom wasn’t much—just enough space for a corner toilet with a watertight cabinet, a small sink flanked by two mirrors, and the showerhead mounted in the ceiling. It was all practical, no frills.

After years of begging, I’d finally convinced the Captain to let me install a larger showerhead, replacing the old, pitiful one that I’d “accidentally” broken. It was one of my small victories, and the memory brought a smirk to my lips. Like I said, I always win.

Flipping the light switch outside the bathroom, the waterproof LED lights snapped on, their harsh brightness making me squint as the white interior reflected the light back at me. I stepped over the four-inch lip that separated the bathroom from the bedroom—one of many design choices clearly made by someone who’d never had to use the thing. I’d tripped over it countless times. I turned the water on and closed the rolling pocket curtain, waiting for the water to reach the nearly scalding temperature that I preferred.

Stripping off my black sports bra and board shorts, I tossed them haphazardly next to the bed, mentally noting that I’d need to do laundry sometime today. After grabbing one of my oversized black towels from the armoire and hanging it on the hook just outside the curtain, I stepped into the shower. The hot water was a welcome relief, soothing my pale skin and washing away the remnants of sleep and sweat. I reached over and tapped the waterproof Bluetooth speaker on the sink, letting the familiar beats of my playlist drown out the thoughts that still swirled in my mind.

As the soft music filled the room, I glanced up into the mirrors and immediately noticed the familiar bright amethyst glow of my eyes. A heavy sigh escaped my lips. I never fully understood why this happened, why my eyes would radiate this eerie purple light after dreaming of the cat. It was a phenomenon that defied explanation, though it had become almost routine. The first time the Captain and Mrs. Tiffany saw my eyes in this state, they nearly had a collective panic attack. It took my father to calm them down, insisting it was "normal" given my... situation.

But this? This was anything but normal. Normal girls didn't have glowing eyes or cryptic dreams about cats that seemed to know more about their lives than they did. I reached for my shampoo, squeezing a generous amount into my palm, and began scrubbing it through my hair. The familiar scent was comforting, a small indulgence in a life full of imposed restrictions. After a long day working on skycars or in the engineering bay, I liked my hair to feel clean and soft—not greasy or coated in the bulk all-in-one stuff the Captain tried to push on me.

He had ordered it in industrial-sized containers, the kind you might find in a locker room or cheap gym, thinking it would suffice. When I threatened to shave my head in protest, right in front of Mrs. Tiffany, the Captain got the message. The next day, a neat row of bottles—four each of my preferred shampoo and conditioner—along with an assortment of body washes and soaps, appeared by my door. There was even a handwritten note of apology from him. I couldn’t help but smirk as I rinsed the lather from my hair. I always win.

As I turned around to rinse out the suds, I caught something in the mirror that made my heart stop—a pair of bright green eyes staring right at me. With a startled squeak, I instinctively wrapped my arms around my chest and lunged out of the shower, nearly tripping over the cursed lip in my haste. Snatching my towel, I hastily wrapped it around myself, breathing heavily as I peeked back into the bathroom. Cayro’s eyes were still there, staring through the mirror. But he didn’t seem to see me. Instead, he looked like he was watching something else entirely, something beyond me, beyond the mirror.

A sharp knock at the door jolted me back to reality, almost causing me to slip on the water now pooling on my floor. Ms. Tiffany’s voice followed the knock, her tone laced with concern.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” she asked softly.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied, trying to steady my voice.

“I heard you as I walked by. Are you sure?” Her voice was gentle but probing.

I hesitated, debating whether to tell her about Cayro’s eyes in the mirror. Instead, I settled on a half-truth. “I tripped over the bathroom lip again,” I mumbled, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.

“Mhm, and that’s why you’re standing here in a soaking wet towel?” she asked, one eyebrow arched in suspicion.

Busted. I swallowed hard, my blush deepening as I stammered out an explanation. “Sorry, I thought I saw someone in my mirror while I was taking a shower.”

Ms. Tiffany’s brow furrowed in concern as she stepped into my room. “Alright, let me see the mirror.”

With a resigned sigh, I opened the door wider to let her in. She walked over to the bathroom, her movements deliberate as she scrutinized the mirrors. I watched her closely, hoping—dreading—she’d see what I had seen. But to my astonishment, Cayro’s reflection was still there, staring back at us, yet she seemed oblivious to it. He sat, unblinking, as if trapped on the other side of the glass. My heart pounded in my chest as I gritted my teeth, trying not to let my unease show.

“I think my eyes were just playing tricks on me,” I said quickly, forcing a casual tone into my voice.

Ms. Tiffany gave the mirror one last, hard look, her eyes narrowing as if trying to see something she might have missed. But finally, she sighed and stepped back, shaking her head in defeat.

“Well, sweetie, I don’t see any foul play with your mirrors. Are you sure that you’re okay?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure. Just the light playing tricks on my eyes,” I lied smoothly, even though my heart was still pounding.

“Okay, sweetie. Get cleaned up, and I’ll see you at breakfast,” she said softly, giving me one last concerned look before turning to leave. I watched her walk out of my room, heading towards her and the Captain’s quarters.

Once she was gone, I quietly slid the door shut and locked it. The silence in the room was almost suffocating. I let out a shaky breath and grabbed two more towels from my armoire, tossing one onto the carbon tile floor to soak up the water that had pooled there, and wrapped myself in the other. Laundry was definitely on the agenda now.

I stepped back into the bathroom and turned off the water, my gaze lingering on the mirror where Cayro had been. But he was gone. Only my own reflection stared back at me, my eyes no longer the bright amethyst purple but the usual soft lavender hue.

I hung the soaked towels on the hooks inside the bathroom, making sure they wouldn’t drip onto the floor, and pulled out a fresh sports bra and a clean pair of board shorts from the armoire. As I dressed, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that clung to me like a second skin. There was no way I was getting back into that shower while Cayro’s reflection lingered in my thoughts. The last thing I needed was another surprise visit.

After dressing, I stepped back into the bathroom to scrutinize the mirrors one more time. They were just mirrors now, nothing more. My reflection was back to normal, no glowing eyes, no unsettling visions. Just me. But the unease didn’t leave.

I decided to wait to finish my shower until later, maybe when the sun was up and the ship was bustling with activity. For now, I was too on edge, too tense. The image of Cayro’s bright green eyes, staring intently through the mirror, was seared into my mind. What was happening to me? Why was I seeing him like this? And why did it feel like a part of me was still connected to him, even after the vision had faded?

Sighing, I walked back to my bed and sat on the edge, wrapping my arms around myself. It was going to be a long night. Sleep was out of the question, and the questions swirling in my mind refused to be silenced. I just needed to get through the night. Morning would come soon enough, and maybe, just maybe, the light of day would chase away the shadows that had taken root in my mind.