The metal door at the end of the long, dark tunnel hisses and opens inward to reveal a gleaming white airlock. I look behind me because I feel like this is the last time I'll see the ark. As I peer through the passage into the octagon room, my gaze glimpses one of the seven doors, identical to the one we entered. I consider it for a moment, wondering if there's anything different behind it than what we are about to encounter. No matter how hard I try to imagine anything different on the other side, I can't.

As I face forward, I catch sight of Eve. Her eyes, round and glistening from the light within the airlock, linger on mine for a few seconds as if she's asking me a question. Can we trust Abraham? Should we enter the habitat? When I recall how he convinced us of his motives earlier, I nod in answer to her silent query, and she enters the airlock without a word.

Abraham pauses at an interior door inside the habitat, one with a round window at eye level. He types in a passcode on a keypad and then cranes his neck around. "Are you coming?"

I don't reply, but hurry inside behind Eve.

Once we pass through the inner door, Abraham closes it behind us. "Only I know the code. I'll enter it again when I'm ready to leave, and then I'll seal you inside. It's for your own good. You must concentrate on your work. We can't have the two of you distracted by the outside world."

With that, we venture further into a white corridor with a charcoal-gray floor. Our boots clank on and off in the artificial gravity. The hallway ends with a door on the right. It slides back with a hiss and we clomp across a metal catwalk, our heavy steps clanging throughout the high ceiling of a vast chamber, illuminated by radiant lights above our heads. The catwalk cuts across a dark channel below us, which circles the perimeter of the massive space. It seems to me the channel should contain water like a canal, but it's empty. Once on the other side, the metal walkways go right and left, connecting to other sections, giving access to the entire area.

Across the catwalk and the empty canal, walls rise ten feet high, creating a hallway between them. When we get to a central corridor, I realize for the first time what this room contains—an enormous collection of holding cells with barred doors—but they're all empty. The main hall extends in both directions down the center of the chamber. We turn left from the crossway and journey deeper into the habitat's interior. I consider what Eve and I have seen so far. A line of zoo-like enclosures surrounded by catwalks and an empty canal, accessed by a central hall.

"This is a place for animals," Eve says. "I should know, since I'm supposed to be a veterinarian."

"Very perceptive," Abraham replies. "As we continue, I'll give you the highlights. The width of the habitat is sixty meters, limited by its connection to the ark. But the length stretches a full one hundred meters. Considering the ceiling is thirty meters high, you have quite a vast playground with which to carry out your duties on Earth. It's an enormous garden. Eden. That's what you'll turn it in to."

As we carry on with the tour, it occurs to me I'm now more aware, more familiar with the knowledge of objects and things, and the world around me. I know Eve is too. The memory transfer or knowledge drop has taken almost full effect in our minds. But I wonder when the education and skills needed for what's coming, what we learned and experienced in our past lives, when will that take hold? I'm a scientist and Eve is a veterinarian. Those are skills we'll need for certain. I can only speculate why we don't remember those things. Trouble is, I can't put my finger on an answer to this puzzle. So I keep following Abraham and Eve, expecting it to come to light soon enough.

With the brightness glaring down on us, Eve's red hair glistens a shade lighter as she strolls behind Abraham, perhaps imagining what our new Eden will look like once we're on the surface.

I catch up to her, accidentally grazing her shoulder. She doesn't seem to mind. Her lips curl up at the corners and my face grows warm. She notices my blush and glances away, and then down awkwardly, her smile fading.

As we near the end of the main corridor, I ask a question that's burning in the back of my mind. "So, how long were Eve and I married?"

She frowns at me, but turns her ear to Abraham. I'm growing braver on the question front. Eve may have an influence on me. Truthfully, I can't deny an attraction to her, and if we're husband and wife, I want to have an intimate relationship with her. It is what it is. What I feel. Like a flame somewhere deep within, even though it seems like I've only known her for a short time.

"That's an easy one to answer." Abraham nears the end of the animal cages. He stops and turns around. "Both of you graduated from Central Florida. That's where you met and fell in love."

Eve looks at me out of the corner of her eye. I want to touch her shoulder, but I don't.

Abraham focuses on me. "After you became my assistant at the Kennedy Space Center working for NASA, you started on your doctorate while Eve attended veterinary school. To become an animal doctor, as you phrased it earlier, Noah." He pauses, eyes drifting in thought. "Your first year under me, you two were engaged, then you got hitched the following year. That would mean you had been married for three years. No children, of course. With the oceans rising, it was a difficult time. Both of you had just finished your graduate studies before NASA shuttled us all up to the ark."

"So, that means I'm a doctor in planetary science?" I ask.

"That's correct, with a special emphasis in geology, minoring in chemistry."

"And I'm the animal doctor?" Eve's brows perk up and her eyes alight with a faint grin. Her elbow grazes mine, and she doesn't move it away.

Abraham nods. "Also, both of you had a favorite pastime. Two things, actually."

"What's that?" I ask.

"Gardening and raising farm animals. You had a house on some land, built on stilts. Everyone was building homes that way to prepare for the rising waters, except for those further inland. They thought they wouldn't be affected, but I told them it was coming, and you, Noah, you were there with me. You helped me warn them, but they didn't listen. They thought the melting of the polar ice caps would be the worst of it. They disputed our findings and didn't believe the fountains of the deep would open up."

"Anyway," he says. "You had a small garden with a few chickens and pigs until the water swamped your house. We rescued you by boat, and then authorities evacuated all the coastlands, moving everyone inland. NASA moved us from the Kennedy Center in Florida to the Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. But regarding what lies ahead, no matter how young you are or how limited your experience might be, I think you'll do great with a much larger operation, like the habitat."

"Speaking of gardens. Where's the garden at here?" I ask.

"In the back, behind the Animal Barn. That's what I call the holding cells." When I don't reply, he says, "Behind the cages."

"You have dirt here?" Eve asks.

"No, but the habitat has retractable doors on the bottom. This entire structure will set right down on the ground. The bottom will open, providing access to the earth beneath."

"What about the sky?" I say. "We'll need sunlight to grow crops."

"I see your minds churning." Abraham turns away and opens the door leading out of this section of the habitat. "The roof opens like the bottom, revealing a clear polycarbonate skylight to allow sunlight in. Covers the entire structure, except for the areas designated to have roofs. Like the barn, your living quarters, and this next section I'm about to show you."

We enter a narrow hallway, well lit and clean white. Sliding doors with round windows dot the hall, some open, others ajar. Two are closed.

I peer inside a room and see tables with microscopes and other equipment. I'm sure they bolted the hardware down or else it would float off in the microgravity. Our boots clang up and down as we continue the tour.

"These are the lab rooms. Each designated for specific areas of research and work. Like, artificial insemination, gene therapy, basic testing and medical treatment, etcetera."

We exit the lab section and come to another area.

"This is your living quarters." Abraham opens his palm to a wide range of white space with black lines and hard edges. The common area is empty but for several large plastic crates with straps securing them to the floor. "There's a kitchen, bathrooms, sleeping quarters for the married couple, additional rooms for storage, working out, and even spare rooms for children."

Eve's eyes bulge and her cheeks flush red.

I swallow a ball of awkwardness and glance down at the floor.

"Oh," Abraham says, "there's also a pool."

I look up. "That's nice."

"The designers tried to think of everything in case you needed to remain in the habitat for an extended period. They were smart."

"Will we ever be able to leave the habitat?" Eve asks.

"That remains in doubt and up to my discretion."

"I don't understand," I say. "If the water has receded, why can't we go outside once we're on the surface?"

Abraham's face darkens with the weight of something significant on his mind. "The habitat provides security for the both of you, your family, the animals, and the work you'll be doing. Even though it appears reasonably safe to go outside, that's a chance we don't need to take until we're certain. We can't make assumptions. We have to verify everything and take precautions. If we stick to the rules, the outcome leads to success."

"The habitat is a safe-haven," he says. "Remember what I told you about trust? You'll have a limited perspective down below, but I'll remain above, able to see the big picture. Until I give permission, I'm afraid I must forbid you from leaving the habitat. It's for the good of humanity."

This strikes me as disconcerting—the fact he has the authority to forbid us to do anything—but I nod in acceptance, and so does Eve, albeit with a furrowed brow.

"Now, are there any more questions?"

I shake my head. Eve does the same.

"Next, we get the two of you strapped in for the descent. You'll be touching down on Merritt Island off the coast of what used to be Florida."

"That's where Kennedy Space Center used to be," I reply.

"That's right. Also Cape Canaveral."

"That's where we used to work."

"Right again." Abraham slides a door open, taking us farther into the habitat. "Once you're in your crash-chairs, I'll be on my way so the habitat can detach and begin a controlled entry into Earth's atmosphere. When I'm gone, you'll have computer access to give you any information you need. It's voice activated. And don't worry about the skills you'll need to do your jobs and the rest of your memories from your past lives. The transfer will fully sync with your minds when you reach the surface. This may seem disturbing, but if you want the truth, I programmed it that way for a reason. It's complicated."

Abraham guides me and Eve to the crash-chairs in the habitat's bridge, provides us helmets for the trip down, and then straps us in. "This is it. It's time for me to go, and for you to return to the planet we call home."

"I have one last question?" I say.

"What's that?"

"Why do they call these crash-chairs?"

Abraham purses his lips and shrugs. "Just terminology the designers came up with. Nothing to worry about."

Once he leaves and the outer airlock door seals shut, the habitat separates from the space ark with a thunderous jolt, decelerates out of orbit, and then plunges toward the Earth.