"Yeah," says Daniel, drawing out the word with an empathetic wince. "It's, um. Complicated. There's no way back, nothing we've figured out yet. I'm, I'm sorry."

That's less easy to accept. There's still some part of Daniel that hasn't quite learned to work that into his worldview either, distantly, optimistically latching onto the hope that someday someone will work out something, some way to send people back the way they came.

"The government here knows," he continues, doing his best to systematically answer each question. "They monitor the place, the activity, doing their best to figure out how it all...works."

Another grimace, and his hand drops.

"I know it's a lot. I'm sorry."