"What, like, TV?" Hawk asked.

"Radio, to begin with."

Hawk tilted his head. "Aetheri doesn't have radio?" he said, skeptically.

"It's...complicated," Numair replied. "I meant it when I said Aetheri hasn't changed much for many centuries."

He looked down, folding his hands together gently over his chest as they walked, and continued.

"We have been alone with our guilt and traumas since the Great War," he explained. "It has made many of us bitter, xenophobic, and apathetic. When we came out of our isolations again a century ago, and saw how much our neighboring worlds had changed, it became clear to me that we had lost something in that time. It's difficult to put into words, but my hope is that, by encouraging communication, we can move out of the stagnation we're in. We can...heal ourselves."

For a moment, Hawk didn't reply. Finally, he said, "...Wow."

Numair glanced up at him to see a sort of smile on his face. He met Numair's eyes.

"That's really...I dunno. Kind. 'S a kind thing to want."

Numair looked away, flushing slightly at the response.