The M.S.V., now dark and dormant, floats in a junkyard dimension. A rat gnaws on a wire. The ship's screen flickers. One word appears: "Mom?"
"The Multi-Situational Vessel," Rick says, not proudly. "Project M.S.V. I built it fifteen years ago. Before you, Morty. Before... her. "
The ship whispers: Choose. Which grief is real? Which joy do you keep?