[Long description: The R.A. shrinks under the Chronicler’s scolding. She lifts her chin up, scrunching her face in concentration as she takes a deep breath. When she speaks, it’s with defiance.

R.A.: If you’re so bent out of shape about it, why don’t you just fix it?

That seems to break the illusion. MarkOS stares up at her, and the R.A. glares back. The Chief keeps watch from the cockpit, deathly still.

The light goes out in MarkOS’s optics. The Chronicler lifts his hand.]