Two astronauts, Hitchcock and Clemens, have a conversation on a spaceship a billion miles from Earth. Hitchcock says he no longer believes Earth is real, but Clemens argues that it is; he’d just dreamt about it that morning. Hitchcock pedantically points out that it is always night in space; Clemens tells him to shut up. Hitchcock continues, sharing that he no longer knows where he is or where he has been: “I don’t believe in anything I can’t see or hear or touch. […] It’s safer this way, not to believe” (137). Clemens argues that memory is an acceptable substitute for the real thing, but Hitchcock angrily informs him that he has always lived this way. As soon as he leaves a place or person or time, that entity is dead to him. Clemens tells him he needs to learn to hold on, but Hitchcock responds that memories hurt, like a porcupine’s quills. The only thing he is positive exists is himself.

At lunch, Hitchcock’s condition deteriorates. Clemens asks him why he came to space at all, and Hitchcock responds that he wanted to be in a place between places: “I liked the idea of nothing on top, nothing on the bottom, and a lot of nothing in between, and me in the middle of nothing” (139).