Eido took a modest sip from the Ether rebreather, then passed it back to Variks. Though she was savoring the silent hiatus from her research, something from a previous conversation with Eramis weighed on her mind. "Is machine-made Ether really so different?" Eido asked. "It's chemically identical to the naturally occurring product on Riis." Variks shrugged his lower arms dourly. "You have been raised in machines. Fed by them. You can no longer separate their spirit from yours." "My mother was a Ketch!" Eido quipped. Variks responded to the familiar joke with a pensive chitter. "During the Long Drift, Eliksni were thankful for our machines. They were saviors in an age of grief and survival." "But in time," Variks continued, "Ketches became prisons. Servitors became jailers. None felt this more than Fikrul." "Is that why he spoke against the Servitors?" "He spoke against Eliksni dependency," Variks corrected her. "And against the traditions that bound us to a dead world." "That is why so many supported him," the Vandal continued. "Even those hatched during the Drift. A song in their blood told them that we had forgotten our natures. That we were diminished by our worship of the machines." Variks returned the rebreather with a slight bow. "Yes, machine-made Ether is chemically identical to that of Old Riis," he concluded. "But the spirit…" He trailed off into a pensive chitter. "I think I understand," Eido murmured. She took another sip of Ether, and for the first time, tasted the metallic tang she had never realized was there.