It's not a matter of what's necessary to sustain life, it's a matter of what is and what isn't. Or, in Ephrim's case, what came to be as a part of the universe's balance, or what came as a result of a freak accident, doomed to a slow death.

A silence as Ephrim processes that. "It seems as though you would tell me that your planet of oceans and my world in a jar could exist out there," he says, finally. He nods toward the heavens. "That if one could take some space-worthy vessel and travel far enough, in precisely in the right direction, we would arrive at our former homes. Do I understand you correctly?"