1: Tahan leans back and smiles.
Tahan: This is craziness, but I really do have to ask: you don’t know anything about this, do you?

2: Sami looks relieved and slides the tray of coffee closer.
Sami: If you’re asking if I’m a 200-year-old criminal, then… no, not to my knowledge.
You really had me worried there… When your memory’s as bad as mine, you sometimes think that maybe you did something… awful, and just don’t remember it.
Tahan: Is your memory really that bad?

3: Sami’s nervously fidgets at a napkin.
Sami: I don’t remember much at all. I don’t remember being a kid or anything. I think I’ve been to the hospital about it before… but this is just… how it’s always been.
Tahan: Well, shit, what do you remember?

4: They turn to look at the small window of frosted glass as the sound of fireworks is heard from outside.
*Pop!* *crck!*

Tahan: Hm. Fireworks.

5: Sami is still looking to the window, seeming peaceful.
Sami: I remember Contact Day. I always do.

6: The two talking, seen from afar in the small room.
Tahan: Yeah? I barely even celebrate it.
Sami: It’s always fascinated me. I’ve read about it countless times, I never seem to forget the details.
It’s so… romantic. A whole nation reaching out on behalf of the entire world, making the tiniest of connections across space and time…

Hover text: Space is romantic. It’s so cold and vast and empty…