[poem - The heart of Autumn. Jane Hirshfield]

Director Livinggood insisted that now that the everyone was aboard from the
nearly month-long process of shuttling them up to orbit, it was time to have
a proper welcome celebration, "To get to know each other", even if most of
the earlier arrivals had been working in the labs for weeks together, and
only a relatively few were on the last couple trips.

_Maybe I'm just sick of awards ceremonies and get-to-know-you gatherings_
Alex thought to himself. _Or maybe I'm just too much of an introvert to
enjoy them_.

Tables lined the main path through the station, the strip of not quite
pavement that arced up into the distance, like a stream among the chunky
square boulders of the buildings.

There were no proper buildings in the station that would actually hold the
entire science departments. Everything was built for a specific use, and
when it was done, the parts were disassembled and used elsewhere, a cube of
wall being dragged in where needed and clamped to its neighbors, and then,
one day, torn down and put on a cart and all evidence it had ever been there
vanished.

Since the entire station was one giant building, in practice, Alex supposed
it made sense to drop the pretense of putting everything indoors.

The director made a dry speech and gestured out over the assembly. Not many
spare seats. At least there wouldn't be any coming lectures about attitude
and attendance.

A dark figure sat down next to him.  The woman he hadn't recognized from the
last arrivals.

"You look as bored as I am. Like you'd rather be somewhere else." Her voice
was surprisingly pleasant.

"Anywhere else."

"You don't mean that. I know that look. Homesick. I see it in the mirror."

"Right now, my brother is probably helping my parents harvest pumpkins.
They'll be working all night, trying to beat the frost. I saw the weather
report earlier. I can almost smell it."

"Smell what?"

"Autumn. October in Illinois. It's finally cold out. You can wear a sweater.
I brought one here, but it's too ... perfect."

"I have something to show you."

Alex raised his eyebrows. Strangers don't usually seek him out.

She padded off, tracing a path through the jumble of buildings that formed
the climate biology labs. A huge building loomed to one side, and she found
the door, just a tiny hollow in the blank wall. She flashed a card by the
door sensor and stepped in, beckoning him to follow.

The door swung shut behind them. They were in a tiny room.

"An airlock. Watch."

She swiped the card again at the inner door.

Alex felt tears hit his face as cool, dry air fell out into the airlock, and
with it the smell of mold and mushrooms and drying straw.

"Turns out you can't grow a lot of things without seasons."

He dried the tears but caught her watching his face.

"The last time I saw my parent's farm was the harvest before my sister died.
She'd be out there helping them now, but Chelsea died in a car accident two
years ago. Two years ago tomorrow, actually."

She just nodded.

Their eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The only light was a dim lamp
hanging high above.

Below, though, he saw neat rows of pumpkins and squash hanging on wilting
vines. A section against the far wall was covered with corn, stalks drying.

Fall in a bottle.

He shivered.