I looked up at the large vehicle looming over me. It was massive. Okay, maybe it wasn't that big, but compared to the vehicles I was used to, it was huge. The shiny metal had a menacing look to it, and even the door itself was intimidating in a way I could never describe. I was glad my helmet was designed to have no effects on my vision, or it would have looked even larger from a smaller line of sight.

I only stared up at it for a second though, then took up an air of resolve and walked casually over to it, as if I wasn't fighting away my nerves with every step. I knew no one was watching me, I was far too early, but I could never be sure, and I figured the best way to remain safe would be to make sure I was Io as much as I could possibly be. One slip in what I may think is a private moment and it would all be over.

The vehicle wasn't actually all that large from the inside, just separate sections for everyone to put their things and sleep, a kitchen off to the side, some restrooms on the other side, and a space in the middle I was guessing was used as a sort of living room. I unpacked my few items, comforted by the complete silence around me. As of late, my world had grown louder than ever, and every second of complete silence had become precious.

But those seconds were short, and all too soon my new coworkers filed into the vehicle one by one.

I wanted to stare at them, to analyze how they looked and acted, find out who to avoid, who to go to for information, who to ignore and who to learn from. I wanted to finally get a close look at how people were in this time, and if I needed to adjust the way I acted to fit in.

Every part of me wanted to glance up when I thought nobody was looking. To stare at them, my eyes hidden by the dark material of my helmet, and just watch them. They were like aliens, in a way. I wanted to see what they were like.

But Io didn't care. Io didn't need information to plan out their actions. Io was focused on their book, paying no care to their new coworkers. I always did believe people could tell when someone was watching them.

So I read. And focused. And hoped I wasn't visibly shaking with the effort of keeping my eyes on the page.

I had to go unnoticed. I had to be as invisible as I could be. If they would just ignore me, I could go about my day like anyone else and this would be so much less stressful than it could be.

But of course, that didn't happen.

"You must be our new member. Welcome to the ship."

I looked up to find one of my coworkers sitting across from me on the other couch. Even sitting down, I could tell they were tall, taller than I was, and they had broad shoulders. They were strongly built, and seemed like exactly the type of person I'd expect at a job like this. They sure didn't seem as if they were afraid of heights.

I looked at them for a second, then nodded, not putting down my book.

"My name is Io." I said, and my nerves jumped with the lie. "Yours?"

I kept my tone low, and didn't rush my words. I had to be calm, confident, and definitely not panicking like I was on the inside. This person could beat me to a pulp and I wouldn't be able to do a thing. But I couldn't think like that, not there, not then.

They introduced themselves, and though I can remember the sound of their voice, I have no clue what their name was. They only worked there for a week or so that I can remember, and I avoided them since the first day. What I do remember them saying, though, was word for word, "You're not from around here, are you?"

I remember the panic that went through me as they said those words. I was convinced I was screwed, that I'd messed everything up already, that he'd found out I was from the future and was about 3 minutes from sending me six feet under. But I forced myself to respond.

"No. I ain't." I managed to say, somehow hiding the fact I was choking on air at the moment. Or maybe I wasn't.

He laughed. Said something about me being from some Eastern place, by an old structure or something, I wasn't really sure what he meant, I just nodded and hoped they accepted that as an answer.

"Well, welcome aboard, boy." He said, standing up from the couch. "I'll see you up on the bridges. Try not to fall off, it's a looooong way down." He said jokingly, and I felt the ice again.

I turned back towards my book again as he walked off, my heart pounding with either terror or exhilaration. I picked up my book, eternally grateful for its presence, and pretended to read as I tried to keep myself calm.

I guess I'm a guy now. According to him, at least. I thought to myself. I remember finding it almost funny. Had I really hidden myself that well? I had my doubts, but when did I not. But as it turns out, it was not as though he thought I was a guy, or not exactly. From what I'd been told, in this time if you meet someone you couldn't tell the gender of, you referred to them with your own gender until told or corrected. Even now I consider it strange, but what does it matter anymore? It mattered then, and I failed to address it, and for the next few months I was considered a boy.

I never was one to say something when it needed to be said. I could never correct people, never fix a broken interpretation. Emily said once I was a very "go with the flow" kind of person, that I didn't get angry very easily. It was a compliment, then. It seemed like a nice thing to be. I wasn't the confident kind of person to stand up for themselves, as much as I tried to be in this world. I could never do it. Maybe that's why this all happened. It's just another thing I couldn't do.

But I didn't know it, then. I sat there, not a real care in the world, still believing it would all work out in the end.

A few more of my coworkers introduced themselves to me after that, I don't remember their names either, and I was fortunately not the only person wearing a mask to cover their face, nor the only one that preferred to be left alone. I kept up the blunt, secretive attitude I'd adopted spur of the moment when talking to the first one I'd met, and it carried me through the trip from the ground level of the city to the upper, still-under-construction levels.

I hadn't even noticed the vehicle was moving until we'd been in the air for several minutes. Technology really has gone far.

I felt a ping of sorrow in my gut. I knew I wasn't meant to be here. This technology should be the stuff of dreams to me, not reality.

But I couldn't dwell on it then. I had a job to do, and an identity to fake, and a whole lot of people whom I had to convince I was real.

I heard a Ping! Sound come from the door I entered from, and realized the ship had stopped. Everyone was grabbing a pack of tools from a pile by the door that I hadn't noticed previously and were heading out the door. I set my book down, and prepared to follow suit.

I had doubts in my ability to remain under the guise of Io for long, but the first day was just a day, and the next day would be just another day as well, and as long as I just kept moving forward, just kept taking breath after breath, each day would bring me one day closer to my family, my friends, and my home.

Just don't look down, I told myself. Don't look down. Don't panic and try to run off, you'll only end up falling.

Fortunately, other than dealing with my nerves, most of the work was simple. The others talked, chattering about things I didn't understand, but I kept my distance from them, and thankfully they left me alone as well. We were higher in the sky than I'd ever believed possible, but I seemed to be the only one aware of the fact that one slip up would have led us to our graves, although that makes more sense looking back now.

I swear I must have been shaking when I walked out onto the half-built bridges for the first time. My nerves spiked and stabbed at me, and with every step my mind was filled with the thought of the distance that separated me and the ground. There was no other day where it was as hard as it was then to be Io. Had it not been for my mask, every one of my coworkers would have seen the tears in my eyes and the nervous chewing of my lip.

I wanted to run. To go back to the vehicle, lock myself in a room, and wait for it to take me back to ground. I wanted to hide from the bridges, the people, the buildings, but there was no hiding. It was everywhere.

I had to focus on the work in front of me. I had to force through my fear, do everything I could to ignore it, make sure it doesn't show, I had to be brave, I had to be Io.

My coworkers told me what I had to do, and how to do it, and I never had to work alone, even if we didn't talk. We were always doing something, and although we were high up in the air, it wasn't nearly as cold as it would have been on Earth. The bridges, even when unfinished, felt solid, and there was no threat from wind, but the flowing banners unnerved me with their noises every time I got too close.

I dropped a tool once. The nerves hit me suddenly, when I stared too long at the moving lights on the walls, and I dropped to the floor to steady myself, not even noticing the tool falling out of my hand. My coworkers laughed a bit and handed me a new one, they didn't actually see what made me drop it, and said it was alright, it happened all the time.

Stuff fell so often. All around me. A nail here. A board there. No one seemed to care.

Who did it hit when it got to the ground? What did it break? How did they have the funds to replace all those objects? Why didn't anyone care?

Everyone in this world seemed oblivious. Like they didn't really care about the safety of themselves or others. Like they didn't fear death.

It was strange. They were strange. And what was strange was terrifying. But I couldn't afford to be terrified, not all the time. So I worked past it. There was nothing else to do. Just look past them, or look through them, away from the strangeness, away from what was wrong, and get to work.

As time went on, it got easier. I learned what I needed to be doing, and talked with my coworkers less and less.

When I was super focused, I could forget about the day's challenges and fears, and was able to think of nothing other than doing the best I could on the task at hand.

Work got easier over time. Got less stressful.

After work on the other hand... did not.

My coworkers wanted to have a little party to "Welcome me to the bridges" as they said it. They told me it was tradition for everyone to eat in the kitchen together the day a new worker came.

"We have to have something to celebrate," one of them said to me as we walked back towards the vehicle. "Otherwise we all just go our separate ways in the vehicle, and that's no fun."

I wanted to decline. Io was not the type for parties. Io didn't want to be celebrated. Io just wanted to be left alone. But they insisted, and we'd all be living in the same vehicle for the next two weeks, so I couldn't exactly avoid them.

When we got inside, bowls of this soup-like substance were already placed around the edges of the table. The worker who had finished work nearest to the vehicle got there before the rest of us and got everything ready. I sat down with the rest of the group and picked up a spoon to eat, and froze.

I'd completely forgotten my helmet. I didn't want to take it off, not at the table with so many people around me, but I knew they all expected me to eat. I sat there, suddenly panicking, realizing I had no plan on what to do next.

"Left your mod at ground level? Here, borrow one of mine, I have a spare." Said one of my fellow helmet wearing colleagues. Now that I think about it, they sounded like Ayer. Maybe it was them? I guess it doesn't matter.

They handed me what looked like a small metal clip, and I watched as they clipped a similar one onto the side of their helmet, and although their face was still covered, they put their food right though the front of their helmet and ate it. I thanked them and tried my best to mimic their actions, and had to force myself to hide my surprise when the soup went right through my helmet and into my mouth.

The soup tasted completely new, nothing like I'd ever eaten before, but it tasted faintly of cold, liquid chicken, with a heavy aftertaste of something that felt like a sort of citrus? It didn't taste bad, but it definitely didn't taste as good as everyone claimed it to be. Everyone else seemed to love it though, so I finished my bowl, wondering with each bite just what I was eating.

Over the course of the meal, my coworkers questioned me on my interests, my past job experiences, my family, and more. I gave the shortest answers I could, quickly realizing how little I knew of the person I was supposed to be. Mostly I tried to steer the conversation towards talking about them instead of me. I wanted to weed out which ones liked talking about themselves and try to get them talking, while hopefully using whatever they said to build my own history.

After a while, everyone had to head in to their own rooms for the night, and we parted ways. I went straight to my room and shut the door quickly behind me, relieved to finally escape what had felt to me like an interrogation. It was nicer, in my room. Less crowded.

I had decided earlier not to decorate it as the others did. I had no story to tell yet, what could I even use to fill this empty space? I didn't know what was supposed to be in here, I'd never seen it before. The things I'd bought for Io lay in a sad stack in the corner, with only a single magazine placed carefully open off to the side, with the hope that it looked like I'd recently been reading it.

I sat down on the bed, and stared up at the blank walls. It sort of felt like a hotel. I wasn't tired enough to sleep, so I grabbed a book, and started reading.

Io... I think I did good on Io that day. No one seemed to really like them, they asked questions, yes, but at the end you could tell they were giving up. I think I gave convincing answers to all their questions, I didn't say much, but I was hoping they'd just think I was just quiet, and not hiding anything. But then again, l shouldn't have expected luck to remain on my side. Mostly I just hoped they don't care enough to dig deeper, but of course, it only takes the one curious person to ruin it all.

My colleagues... they had some loners, some loud ones, some friendly ones and some who would rather be left alone. I wasn't the only one who preferred to stay apart from the others, so I figured I was safe on at least that front. Looking back, I remember seeing Ayer a few times throughout the day, though I didn't really think much of them at the time.

The job? It was alright. Paid well, as far as I'd seen. Not the kind of thing I'd ever wanted to do in my real life, but it was only something I'd do while I was here. As long as it paid well, I figured it'd be fine.

Future plans? I wanted to find a library. Or Future Google. Anything that might have information on time travel. They had to have something. I knew it existed. I was hoping they did too.

As I got ready to go to bed for that night, I noticed an odd sort of nausea growing in my stomach. It grew suddenly, and quickly, and I was just able to run out of my room and to the restroom before vomiting up what felt like everything I'd ever eaten.

I'm not sure how long I was there for, but I was sick over and over, until there was nothing left for my stomach to lose. After I was done, I rinsed my mouth out, and got rid of the evidence.

By the time I headed back to my room it was 1 am. I had work at 6.

I collapsed onto my bed, not even bothering to get under the covers, briefly wondering what had made me so sick, and the last thing I felt before falling asleep was a sharp pain of hunger followed by a thin wave of nausea.