“You’re from Earth, aren’t you, Mr. Smith? If so, I come from a place that exists ten thousand years in your future, give or take. I haven’t the slightest idea what would make a style ‘old’ by yours or anyone else’s standards.” He flashes a wry smile. “But yes—essentially. On a molecular level, everything on the ship is at least a few thousand years old, despite showing no signs of decay. Whatever is keeping all of this,” he gestures to encompass the ship, “from aging is doing the same to us.”