– Good morning.
– Good morning to you. Please, have a seat. I’ll just finish this call.

He/she’s standing, facing the wall, shuffling through typed pages. I sit down in a worn brown leather chair and glance around. The place is massive, filled with countless operators at their desks. I can’t even see the far end of the hall. And yet, despite the density, there’s a strange sense of privacy. It feels as if no one can overhear anyone else.

– Here we are. I am at your service.

He/she sits across from me. Her pale eyes study me, questioning yet neutral.

– What exactly do you want for your journey?
– I’d like to try a short one. Maybe two or three months, if possible.

As I suspected, his/her face darkens a little, though he/she stays polite.

– Are you sure you want to take something so brief?
– Yes… yes. For me it’s just a test. I don’t plan to go away for long.
– You know, we have some truly extraordinary journeys right now. They can last much longer, offering experiences that could help you grow in profound ways. Some are light and relaxing, while others are full adventures, ranging from mildly demanding to nearly impossible.

He/she smiles. Some people think a smile can unlock everything. I don’t hold it against her; he/she’s just doing his/her job—helping us find the best journey possible while minimizing harm. Unfortunately, mine will have to be different.

– Listen, I can’t fully explain why I don’t want a long trip right now. But I really need something short. It’s been ages since I last traveled, and I’d rather ease into it. Last time, even though it was brief, I struggled so much. I handled it so poorly that I promised myself I’d wait until I felt ready again.

I was scared the entire time. I didn’t enjoy a single moment. This time, I need something simpler. Later, maybe, I’ll build up slowly.

The being props her elbow on the desk, rests her chin in her palm, and stares down into a far corner. She lets out a quiet sigh—somewhere between resigned and understanding—then resumes.

– Of course, it’s your decision. You’ve traveled with us before, so you know there are two main options. You can leave whenever you choose, or you can assign a host to send you away. In the second case, you’ll have almost no chance to change your mind later.

– Yes, I’d like to be the one to leave. If possible.

– Very well. I’ll pass your details to the processor. There may be a short wait while we match you with suitable hosts. And although I know you’ve heard this before, I must inform you by law: no matter what you decide now—or later, even mid-journey—you always retain free will, in both positive and negative senses. Still, during this kind of passage you’ll never be fully conscious or capable of exercise your free will at any time. But don’t worry, you won’t need to decide anything. You’ll remain in near-total unconsciousness.

I push the chair back as far as space allows — just a few inches from the next row — and rise with a half-smile. I offer my hand. When he/she takes it, I clasp it with both of mine, the way it’s always done in this in-between place.

– Thank you so much. When should I come back for the details and itinerary?

– You’ll be contacted very soon. I’ll handle it personally. One last thing, though it hardly matters here, but I’m required to ask. Do you have a gender preference?

– Male. Male, please. I’ll wait for your notice.

I walk calmly toward the massive glass door. It slides open automatically as I approach. Outside, a cool mist lingers. Everything is quiet here, always serene. I have no desire to leave for too long