On a bright September morning, the Traveling Symphony leaves Severn City Airport after five weeks of rest, repairs, and alternating Shakespeare and music performances. In their wake, the airport settles back into routine: Garrett works in the gardens humming a Brandenburg concerto, Dolores sweeps the concourse whispering Shakespeare, and the children practice swordplay with sticks.

Clark retreats to the Museum of Civilization and tends to his collection, thinking of the Symphony moving down the coast with their weapons, music, and plays. The day before, Kirsten gave Clark one of her two Dr. Eleven comics, a sacrifice that clearly pains her; because the Symphony is heading into unfamiliar territory, Kirsten wants to ensure at least one copy stays safe if trouble finds them. Clark has tried to reassure Kirsten and the conductor that traders report the route is safe, but Kirsten’s excitement about reaching the southern town with an electrical grid pushes her forward.

That evening, Clark sits by candlelight and reads the comic. He stops at a dinner-party scene on Station Eleven and recognizes it as an echo of a real pre-flu gathering in Los Angeles: the woman who says “Praha,” a man who resembles Clark, Elizabeth Colton, and even a shadowed figure reminiscent of Arthur Leander, with Miranda conspicuously absent and her place taken by Dr. Eleven.

The recognition floods Clark with affection and grief for the world that vanished—hosts, guests, caterers, even Arthur at his worst—and he recalls following Miranda outside after she slipped away. Looking out at the grounded planes and the candle’s reflection in the glass, Clark wonders what an awakening world might hold beyond electricity and theater: perhaps ships setting out again, guided by maps and stars, and perhaps answers about what became of the far side of the world.