”It feels funny.” Somi’s whiny voice wakes me. 
”You’re not used to the material.” Johon sounds calm, but also irritated. 
”It’s all soft and smooth, but it’s also not.” 
There’s a sound of something being dropped on the table. ”Careful! We can’t fix it if it breaks.” 
”I didn’t mean to drop it…” Somi has added another layer of whine to her voice. 
”I know, but please be carful.” 

Curiosity has the best of me, and I drag my tired body out of my bunk. The light is low, except for a spotlight shining at the combined dinner and worktable. Johon is turning something over in his hands. Examining it carefully. 
”What do you have there?” It’s a bowl in a soft amber brown, with streaks of darker brown and spots. The spotlight shines off the polished surface. 
Johon shows no surprise at my question, but hold the thing out to me. ”It’s a bowl. A wooden bowl.” 
”Wood? I didn’t think wooden artifacts had survived this long.” The smooth lacquered surface tricks the eye, my fingers feel the uneven structure of the bowl as I turn it in my hands. 
”I know.” Johon is searching his data pad. ”I’m trying to figure out what tree this is from.” Images of these long lost trees flicker across the screen. 

Somi has disappeared into one of her holo-dramas, her interest in the bowl lost. I shake off the sad feeling of the younger generation’s lack of interest in the past. We’re so far from where we started that no one living remembers anything other than sleek metal and the smell of terraformed dirt.

I lift the bowl to my face, sniffing the surface. It smells old and organic. It must have been a cherished item to make the cut. I caress it, wondering who made it and how it survived all these thousand of years in space.