Not down on any map

Worse than the rocking of the ship is the back and forth between two personalities. Early on Hank sometimes had fled below decks to seek cover from the sea gulls. Other times he had fed them with crumbs, allowing them to sit on his arm.

“A bit bipolar, that man”, the sea gulls would screech at each other. “Well, what do you expect from bipeds?”

By now they were too far away from any coast for sea gulls. Hank doesn’t have to live with that danger anymore - but he isn’t he only sailor with a phobia.

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Rika: “So much for my watch – your turn now, Connor!”

Hank: “You know, you don’t have to do that! I can see you’re dominantly Connor right now, not Ishmael. And Connor doesn’t particularly like heights…”

Connor: “Nah, it’s alright. Yes, I am scared of heights, but everyone here is afraid. If not of tangible things, then of concepts like sinking or being stuck here and never seeing their families again. Or of raising a clan of Reed children in an Omiscan ruin city.”

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Rika: “That’s a pretty specific fear.”

Connor: “I needed to focus on something really revulsive to override my vertigo.”

Hank: “Did it work?”

Connor: “Nope. Gavin and me have long become friends. By now I’d gladly lend a hand in the child raising, should it come to this.”

Starting a legacy in Selvadorada, hidden from the world… making children that would have to live with their parents’ wistful looks, whenever they were missing those children they had left behind in Detroit two hundred years in the future… It was a likely outcome of this trip.
What if it has happened already? What if in November 2050 a bunch of descendants would contact the DPD, telling them: “Hey, we’re the kids of a bunch of sailors that should have drowned, but then they didn’t, and also they were kinda possessed by your co-workers when they founded our line.”?