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“And it worked,” she says. “It worked so well, you became one of the richest men on the planet.”

As usual, I instinctively grow quiet when the topic of wealth comes up. Azalea notices.

“More money, more problems?” she says with a smirk.

It is a strange phrase, but not without merit.

“The money was a byproduct of my effort to help people grow their land,” I explain, hoping I did not misunderstand her question. “I never would have put myself on such a big stage, with so much publicity and judgement, if I had not thought my work could help us all change course.” I pause, the memory of my earlier ambitions a painful one.

“But it didn’t work,” she says sadly. “Your technology couldn’t save Earth.”

I exhale out the years of pent up frustration. “I had such lofty aspirations for what humanity could accomplish that I failed to consider what it was willing to accomplish. In the end, not enough.”

Azalea shakes her head. “It’s amazing that a man can accrue incalculable wealth and still have such a finite impact.”

I nod. “I remember the moment I realized it was doomed to fail. My plan to save Earth.”

She raises an eyebrow and waits for me to continue.

“I was in a room full of rich and powerful people. I was trying to raise the funds needed for terraforming on Earth. I knew I could not do it alone, that it would take many of us--if not all of us--to make the changes needed.”

“They didn’t listen, did they?” she asks, her lips forming a hard line.

I shake my head. “In the end, Mars was the only option we had left.”

Azalea sits straighter, moving her hand from under her chin to place it gently on my leg. For a brief moment, my body is entirely focused on her touch and every worry I have fades away. She has the power to shift my reality in an instant.

“It’s funny, I always thought you had too big an impact,” she says. “With so many people ruining the world, sometimes the environmentalist groups tried to paint everyone with the same brush. Everyone was failing. Everyone had to do more. Especially the rich. The news made it seem like you were ignoring problems instead of trying to fix them.”

I think about the Azalea I never knew, angry with me before we ever met. I would have fallen just as hard for that woman, I think. Would it have changed anything? Had we met earlier? I push the thought from my mind. There is no point obsessing over what might have been.

“The discourse was fraught from the start,” I say. “It was easier to lay blame than take action. In trying to inspire people to work together rather than just fan the flames of their anger, I felt like Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the mountain, only to begin again each day. I finally became so disillusioned that I shifted my efforts.”

“To Mars,” Azalea says.

I nod. “Da. To Mars. I had the money to do whatever I wanted, and no government on Mars could senselessly slow my efforts.”

Talking of Mars draws both of our attention to the window, and we sit silently for a moment, taking in the expanse of space. We float together in a silent sky, countless miles away from our home planet. Right now, I exist only in this moment—alongside this woman, my past forgotten, my future a mystery. There is only now.

I hope the same is true for her, but I do not dare assume as much. Whatever her feelings about the process, she has Robert. They spend their days--and nights--in each other’s company. Surely their connection must be growing stronger.

The lucky bastard.

“Well,” Azalea says, turning to face me as she gives my leg a soft squeeze that makes me feel like Cupid has bludgeoned me with his bow. “I’d like to formally apologize for all the terrible things I said about you before we ever met. And, I’d like to thank you for bringing me along on your journey. I’m grateful.”

It means the world for her to say so, and I place my hand on top of hers, finally giving into the temptation. The touch feels so right, yet just outside of the bounds of appropriateness. The entire purpose of assigned partners and an infallible algorithm was to avoid just this situation.

The jealousy.

The animosity.

The aggression.

Nothing good comes from broken trust and infidelity. No one has exchanged wedding vows, but they have all committed to this common goal. What happens when the man who made the rules is the first to break them?

Distinguishing right from wrong has never been a challenge for me. Helping people. Helping the planet. Ensuring the ends justify the means. It has always been a simple, logical code that has served me well.

Every second spent in the company of Azalea flies in the face of that. My feelings for her will have repercussions. If they are reciprocated, it will be even worse.