On the silent space station, master Voss found the last message in the archive, stamped with her own name: “If you are reading this, I am already gone.” She laughed, assuming a prank. The lights flickered. In the mirror of the airlock corridor, she saw herself aging rapidly, hair silvering, skin thinning. Alarms sang. Her console listed crew transfers to an unknown ship. “You will not remember,” it said. “You are being replaced by your future self.” Voss stared at her hands as they faded, and only then understood the message wasn’t a warning: it was her arrival from tomorrow.