She adjusts awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable position on the hard rock beneath her. _This is it! _She thinks, and she’s sure of it. This interview will be the one that breaks this case wide open. She’s done her research; all evidence points here. But there’s a lump in her throat, and she can’t quite get herself to start. _Calm yourself. _   “Ready when you are.” Seth’s voice comes from behind her.   “Aye, 3. 2. 1.” Joe’s now recording visual.   The tether attached to her harness has twisted around her arm and now digs into her shoulder. Doing her best to ignore it, she clears her throat, ready to begin.   Her next movement is so instinctual that she barely hears the sound of her clicking the recorder on and the tape inside slowly beginning to turn. Holding it to her mouth, she starts:   Interviewer: “For the log, this interview is with William Lee, an employee of the Seven Sons Mining Company. Myself and my crew have joined him during his lunch on the outskirts of jobsite 518, sector C.”   Interviewer: “Right now, William, you and I are sitting deep under the surface of Planet E-84, within the extraction division. Could you tell us a little bit about why my crew and I have been forbidden to utilise a light source of any kind? And why, even at this very moment, you and I are unable to see each other?”   William: “During the harvest, it's gotta be completely dark. The shine of a light is too much for 'em. Kills ‘em almost instantly. A rook a couple of years back, he killed an entire tunnel with a single flick of his flashlight. We all suffered the price on that job—lost pay and time for that entire month. That kind of loss isn’t easy on a lot of people here. Myself included. So, yeah. No lights.”   Interviewer: “Can you clarify for the topsiders what you mean by “them”?”   William: “Small little worms that live in pockets on the rock. Harmless, unless you crush a group of ‘em by accident. Horrible liquid inside ‘em burns you right through.”   Interviewer: "That sounds quite unpleasant, dangerous in fact.”   William: “Sure, yeah. Loads of us have lost a couple fingers to ‘em. Or worse”   Interviewer: “Im curious, if light is so strictly forbidden, and as you’ve made clear, damaging to the job, how was a flashlight brought into a jobsite?”   William: “We’re given bed lights. Dim little things to use at night within the compound. Not meant to take out on the job though. They ain’t much of nothing, but like I said, any light shine is too much for 'em. Guy took his out that day. Those same lights are now chained to our bunks. Fixes that problem, I guess. Causes a few others, but those don’t affect our bottom line.”   Interviewer: “I’ve been inside the compound. It’s a windowless building with a series of entrances, effectively shielding the jobsite outside from the light within. With that level of security, why aren’t there more lights inside the compound?”   William: “Thought the same thing my first time down. Pissed me off living every day by a dim flashlight. Wasn’t till I realised, It’s a disorienting thing to work in complete darkness. It takes time to adjust. We haven’t got that kind of time down here. For us grunts, time is everything. You waste time adjusting your eyes for every run, and you'll lose out on the harvest. That’s you missing quotas, which means delayed returns topside.”   Interviewer: “It sounds like you are speaking from experience. How long have you been down here?”   William: “Umm… I… I’ve never been good at keeping track of these things. My umm... my bunkmate has a tally going for himself. I reckon I’ve been here at least double that.”   Interviewer: “How long has your mate been here?”   William: “About six months.”   Interviewer: “You think you’ve been... I’m sorry, let me rephrase. You mean to say... You’ve only been down here for about a year?”   William: “I still have about 458 kg left on my quota. I’ve got a bit of time to kill before you see me top side again. Looking forward to seeing my girl when I do. Time in is time out. I'll be due a good long in between once I’m topside. That’s the deal you make.”   Interviewer: “And the last time you were topside?”   William: “I… I don’t… Sorry, I don’t understand.”   Interviewer: “You mentioned you’ve surfaced since being down here. Do you recall when that was?”   William: “Um.. no. No… I haven’t been here very long, maybe four months. I’m just getting started.”   _Breath, breath, deep breaths._ She feels Seth's hand suddenly upon her shoulder. Warm, moist breaths tingle the back of her exposed neck. He’s leaning forward in his seat, giving her a slight squeeze. A timed gesture; she needs to wrap it up. But her subject is confused, and she needs him to refocus.   Interviewer: “Well, William, I don’t want to hold you up any longer than I have to. But if I may ask you one last question?”   William: “Yes, ma’am, fire away.”   Interviewer: “What is your daughter's name?”   There’s an extended silence in which she can hear the shuffling of her crew's feet behind her. This visit isn’t going in the direction they had discussed, and she feels their irritation already. The crews evacuation time is an hour away; this will be the last interview. But if her suspicions are right, it’ll be a good one.   Interviewer: “We may bring a message topside for you if you’d like. Anything you’d like to say to your daughter? Perhaps a wife?”   Again, the sound of rocks shifting underfoot, the clank of a tether scraping on the line. Williams moving; she’s made him uncomfortable somehow. Then he begins scratching—that scruffy sound of a man itching his thick beard.   William: “Ehh…. My dear baby girl... ehh.. umm... Darling Lyra. I miss you, sweetheart, and I’ll be coming home soon enough. Yeah… soon. You’ll see! We’ll get our time together. Real soon…”   Her back stiffens, and her breath quickens. Leaning into the tether tangled around her arm, she holds the recorder out, straining to close the dark space between them. A quick flick with her free hand brushes the hair from her face. She’s almost got it.   Interviewer: “Thank you, Will. That... that was beautiful. If you don’t mind me asking. How old is Lyra now?”   William: “Ahhh, my little girl is about to be 4. A golden birthday for her. It’s a big one. My wife, Desiree Lee, she’s got a big party planned.”   Interviewer: “A golden fourth birthday. I imagine it’ll be all glitter and pink. William, I sincerely hope you make it. Thank you for your time.”   William: “Yes ma’am.”   The air shifts around them as William stands. His tether scraping against the steel cable they're all attached too. Then the sound of two distinctive taps of a carabiner on the cable rang out. An indication of someone moving on the line. William leaves without another word.   Satisfaction has never felt so empty. The gaping hole that permanently resides in her stomach is back and aches even more than before. Adrenaline has made a hastened retreat from her body, and she can’t help but scratch at the rash on her arm.   Interviewer: “End voice log.”   * * *   “Stop itching it. Your going to make it bleed again.” Seth presses his hand against hers, stopping her momentarily. In a sudden fit of irritation, she rubs it brazenly, then stops abruptly and sighs. Squeezing the rash on her arm, she attempts to quell its itch.   “I can’t help it. It’s this place...” She throws her hands up. Gesturing at the rock walls that flash past through the exposed grates. “...makes it flair up. Makes me flair up! We can’t get out of here fast enough.” She’s breathless, the hours of darkness and confinement catching up with her emotions.   The lights have barely begun to rise, bright enough now that she can just make out the faces of her crew. The three of them sit alone strapped in as the elevator rattles along its tracks, pulling them topside.   “I know what you mean. 15 years, we’ve all been fighting for these people down here. 15 years, and all we get are a few hours and a hand full of puff piece interviews.” Joe sits across from her and Seth. His arms crossed, legs outstretched. Letting his head hang in defeat.   She looks towards Seth and can tell by his face he feels the same. Shit. She wants to say it aloud. Tell them they have the proof they need, but she can’t find the words; she barely believes it herself. _All these years I’ve... No!_ She thinks. _Not yet._ She leans her head back against the wall, letting it’s rattle jostle those thoughts from her mind.   They remain quiet for the rest of the ride up. By the time the lights are their brightest, they can see the light from the surface shining down on them.   “How’s your eye?” She asks Joe, who’s been rubbing at it off and on for the past hour.   “Yeah, this old bionic eye just takes longer to adjust. It’ll be fine though.” He pulls his hat lower over his eyes.   “Worked fine down there?” She asks as the elevator rattles to a halt. A buzzer sounds, and the seatbelt light turns off.   “Yeah, sure. Was able to get the footage for all the interviews we managed.”   “That last man was a bit sad. Seemed tired, confused.” Seth chimmed in.   “Actually, he seemed the happiest to me.” Joe added undoing his straps.   “How so?” She asked, shouldering her bag and walking up to hold a handle by the exit door.   “I don’t know. I guess it was when he talked about his daughter. You'll see it in the footage later, but he seemed really lost in thought. Like he was happy just thinking about his family.” Joes is beside her now, pulling the car keys from his pocket.   “Oh.” The doors clicked and began sliding to the side to reveal the landing for their exit. She steps off first.   “Crazy how his daughter's name was the same as yours, Ly. Not really a common name anymore.” Said Seth casually as he stepped out behind her.    “Yeah… kinda crazy.” She pulls her hood up over her head to shield herself from the light rain.   She slides into the back seat of their jeep. Joe starts the engine as Seth tweaks the dial on the radio. She hides her face, unable to stop the silent tears that come. Dripping slowly down and off her chin. They’re already settling into the empty spaces of her mind—the missed questions and opportunities for truths lost forever. She knows these spots will fester and create new spaces that fuel her anxiety. And yet, it was worth it. Her father, after all these years of being listed as missing, is actually alive, and she now has proof.   This story will reopen wounds Lyra sealed years ago, and yet, it’s the only thing that may save him. William lives today as if it’s 22 years ago. It’s no wonder he never came home. But how have they tricked his mind into believing it?   “Hey Lyra, isn’t your mom’s name Desiree?” Seth muses.   _Not now, but soon. I’ll tell them soon._