Drift

For eons, we’ve been like this.

Striving for ways to go faster. To do things better. What used to take us centuries now only take a few minutes. With the help of our machines, we can speed things up. Skip through time. We can cheat the system. Grow crops in days. Cook food in seconds.

Reach the stars.

That’s what we were always clambering for. To be able to walk other planets. Rove through asteroid belts. Brush against the stars. Going fast—moving at the speed of light—that was the only way to achieve that.

And we did.

Centuries ago, we did.

And it wasn’t enough.

It’ll never be enough.

Faster, faster.

Faster.

We always have to go faster.

Sometimes, I think it’d just be nice to…

Turn the power off.

Slow down a little.

Drift. Continue reading “Drift”

When We Fall Apart

“It’s falling apart.”

“It’s always been falling apart.” As I walk away from the glass dome, I poke him in the head, doing my best to smile as I call him, “silly goose.”

And then, I feel it.

The ship gets rocked with the blast. With fire cracking tectonic plates to bits. Crumbling lives, calling for rescue. A million things left behind.

Destroyed.

I feel the shockwave. Tremors of love and loss. Of desperation and pain. Of joy.

Of hope.

Beneath the glass dome of the ship, he stands and watches as it happens, and I can’t blame him for not looking away.

The world beneath us burns. Continue reading “When We Fall Apart”

Marvel

I hear your name, whispered against the dark waning moon.

It calls to me.

Spurs me onward, encourages me.

I dive in.

That swirling abyss that brings me to stars. That brings nebulas to their knees. That cracks the very foundation of Jupiter, itself.

I dive into that darkness. That depth.

And I expect to see nothing.

Nothing but you. Continue reading “Marvel”

Boxed Value

The key to scavenging is:

Recognizing something with potential value.

If you’re ambling around a wrecked city, you can’t stop to look at everything. Wrecked cities are chock-full of nasties. Monsters that have been mutated, people that are hungry enough that they’ll eat anyone, falling debris. Havocked Cities—or, as we call them, HC’s—are extraordinarily dangerous. Especially if you’re unfamiliar with that planet’s history. And, as a scavenger, it’s not that often that you can get your hands on a reliable, sturdy, in-tact history of a planet. So, instead of muck around, we get right to business:

We make assessments.

Eyeball where the valuable things are, and head out for those. Taking apart the whole city is a waste. HC’s are way, way too dangerous to play around in. You’re likely to lose a life or a limb trying to pick the whole place apart.

So.

We learn a few tricks.

After all, it’s always been said:

A scavenger’s eye can’t be beat.

Continue reading “Boxed Value”

Consuming Silence

The landscape is loud.

Riotous.

Colors and shapes and shadows all merging together. Creating one giant, mess of a landscape. Vomiting rainbow pastels and flowers that bloomed with a literal burst. Busying your eyes with trying to sift through the strangeness. The colors this planet tries to portray as “natural”. Bright blues, and vivid pinks. A forest that visually screams.

This place feels so…

Loud.

And yet, as I walk on, I can feel it. It’s palpable. If I wanted to, I could reach out and touch it, that’s how strong it is. How apparent.

Silence. Continue reading “Consuming Silence”

Sitting In The Dark

Mercenaries have no mercy.

That’s what I was always taught. That we, the unlucky few, manage to get hired because of that reason and that reason alone.

We have no mercy.

When we fight, we pull no punches. When we dive, we swim with sharks. And, when we speak—

We don’t withhold the truth.

Don’t ask a mercenary for anything. Not unless you can handle the clearest cut.

That’s what goes around the galaxy. That’s what we’ve been taught—what everyone has been taught.

If you want someone who’s going to hold back.

Don’t hire a mercenary. Continue reading “Sitting In The Dark”

More Among The Stars

They say there are quite a few types of love. A handful of ways in which our bonds to people are forged, what they mean, how we respond to them. People are strange, and all of us are very different, you see. And so, although you may connect to one person a certain way, it’s almost a sure thing that you won’t connect to another person the same. Because, with one person, you’ve been through one thing. A very unique, very different experience. As you live your life, you never replicate your experiences—it’s impossible. And, even more impossible, is replicating those situations, and the people your with, and their reactions. Especially if you place a new person in an unfamiliar situation.

What I mean is:

We’re all different. And, in our differences lies our experiences. And in those experiences lies different people as well. Different reactions to those experiences.

And so, the cycle churns onward. Forging bonds from these differences—personality, and character, and experience, and self—all of them meshing together to create these different relationships. Tethers that vary from person to person, in type and strength and importance.

And every moment—every difference that’s added or subtracted—is more than what we are.

Moment to moment, person to person, it all makes a difference.

Every moment we share counts.

It all matters.

Every moment counts. Continue reading “More Among The Stars”

Freedom For Space

If there was one thing Lone Island Correctional Facility taught me, it was this:

Helplessness.

I won’t go into the details of how I ended up there, I’ll just tell you that they were bogus. My hands were completely clean, but I was mistaken for my brother, who’s hands are bloodier than a butcher’s on half off hamhock Friday’s.

But I digress.

I was imprisoned for a lot of things. In fact, the list was so long that I never got to read all of it. Which meant:

Sentencing was hell.

Literally.

Lone Island Correctional Facility was the seventh circle. A desolate island on a desolate planet. Made to make inmates feel stranded. Like there was no escape. Like there was nothing they could do. Guards were gods, and the head of the facility was Zeus himself. Disobedience meant punishment.

And punishment.

And more punishment.

Stepping out of line meant not being seen for weeks. And not because you were in solitary. We all wished that was all it was. Solitary would be a great place. A reprieve.

But no.

…no.

In a place where even uttering the wrong response, or sneezing at the wrong time, could earn you a lobotomy, it was all you could feel.

Helplessness.

The looming knowledge that you were alone. That no one and nothing could save you from the staff. From the facility. From the planet.

Hell was life, and that solid knowledge bred the feeling of helplessness.

But that’s the thing about Lone Island Correctional Facility. It’s all about suppression, all about powerlessness. About feeling like you can’t do anything.

So, what happens when you break free? When you find a way out?

Doesn’t that make you a god, too?

No.

It just makes you human.

Because helplessness is just a state of mind.

Continue reading “Freedom For Space”

Star Collision

“Do you know why I brought you here?”

I don’t.

One minute, I was in my room, sulking. And now, I’m somewhere else.

Somewhere else entirely.

The stars shine beneath my feet. Like standing on a glass aquarium, only, instead of sharks, there are millions of fires burning. Lights that flicker and don’t fade. That burst, but don’t explode. A brightness that I can’t describe, that shines brightly like a thousand suns to create a million rainbows to light up a thousand thunder storms. It’s the top of the world, the mouth of heaven. A place anyone would be mystified by.

It’s glorious.

But I still don’t know where “it” is.

Or why I’m here.

So I shake my head at the man. The man who had the funny markings on his face. The white-hot glowing eyes. That angelic smile.

That angelic smile that looks so accepting. So knowing.

So soft.

“Let me show you,” he says.

Honestly, I don’t know how he can show me anything at all.

It’s far too bright here. Continue reading “Star Collision”