#voyager.

It must be true.

Sagan and Voyager's connection has two parts, dependent on the perspective:

From Voyager's point of view: At some point in time, Sagan was able to access technology that allowed them to enter one of the games Voyager was playing. It is implied that within the game, players are able to create their own world, and because of that, Voyager was able to gleam some of what goes on inside Sagan's mind. Sagan themselves may or may not remember this, due to their [REDACTED] being [REDACTED].

VOYAGER ⋅𖥔⋅ 30, M ⋅𖥔⋅ DECEPTION

People talk about the rockets that reach the stars but not the ships that end in fire. Shrapnel through the lungs; throats full of jet fuel, dead and ugly. Any competitor with too much pride to trail after first place. You keep a list of all the losers by date and name. Everyone who increased the odds for you, paved way for your stunts. You work as a test pilot for space shuttles, submarines, hovercars — push S Corp's tech to its limits, hooked on breaking records like a sunfish with barbs through its gaping mouth. You were born without a fear chip — that piece of brain that incites fear. Ghost without a home; nothing but endless, empty space to haunt. When S Corp halts its space program, you're left with two options: become jobless or stream stupid stunts for creds. You take the offer, of course. What else is there to do in this skeletal city — corpse and bleached bones of an animal that doesn't eat; doesn't breathe? Your skimmer flares from underground and takes you out aboveground. You stream it all, stuntman with his head thrown back, your torso hanging upside-down out of the driver's seat, your grin like a bobcat's. ALIVE, ALIVE, ALIVE. The ones underground watch as you grin; don't notice the carnage just past the frame of the camera. You are nothing but a distraction — walking breathing black hole being told to put on shoes and dance. For the cameras; for the fans — for the disillusion that this world isn't doomed and there's nothing to do but sit back and watch. Question: Is it a distraction for them — OR YOURSELF? It gets boring, though. All of the pomp and show with none of the risks. You suck teeth at the seatbelts, the safety gliders — the manufactured explosions that don't do so much as blow sand at your skin. Weeks go by when you don't leave your VR capsule. You turn the pain up high, dig a hole for yourself and crawl inside. The world's just artifice. You read the words in red graffiti on your way home on the rail line, scan the QR code and find a new game. Something's off about it, the way it tunnels through your psyche to actualize your inner ugliness, your itching wounds. AND FOR ONCE, FOR THE FIRST TIME, SOMETHING INSIDE YOU FEELS AFRAID.

DYNAMICS

PERDITA  ⋅𖥔⋅ WHO WILL EVER KNOW YOUR HEART, WHO WILL EVER KNOW YOUR MIND? YOU HAVE THAT FATAL QUALITY OF SILENCE – OF A TIGHT REPRESSION THAT SUGGESTS A HIDDEN FIRE – YES, A BURNING FIRE UNQUENCHABLE

Friends is perhaps a too generous way to put it. You know her, have attended countless S Corp galas in each others' presence, but you've always found her presence lukewarm — too happy, too placid. VACANT AS A LOBOTOMIZED POSSUM. You're aware of her position within the company and that's why you leave her be. But part of you despises this about yourself, wants to shake her until breaks. Shake yourself until you both break. MIRROR MIRROR, WHO'S THE MOST EMPTY OF THEM ALL?

SAGAN  ⋅𖥔⋅ I LEANED INTO THE WALL OF THE COILED CABIN, SNAIL, THE BODY CURLED IN UPON ITSELF, SPINE COILED, A SNAKE LYING IN WAIT

They played the game too, once upon a time. Some glitch allowed them to intrude upon your server, and you've seen their memories abstracted, have gazed inside them, have seen a world much more terrifying than the landscape within yourself. Now, in their fractured state, you wonder what their game world would look like. You want to play alongside them. You want to reach their game's finale. You want to win.

KEPLER  ⋅𖥔⋅ I WAS NEVER ONE TO CONNECT. I'VE BEEN THAT WAY MY ENTIRE LIFE. I WENT TO WORK, KEPT MY HEAD DOWN, AND CAME HOME

You're pretty sure they have even less of a life than you do: it's kind of wild the amount of time they spend on space conquests in your bird MMO. Maybe a loser, but fun to game with, fun to build armies with for 20 straight hours and lose them all in a night. If you met them, maybe you'd share a drink, tell them more about yourself. But for now, they're just a penguin with a spaceship and a killer snowfort.