Mayan Spaceman
I drew a calming breath in preparation for my sling ride into Zarathustra’s orbit.
I hit the trigger and, after a short delay while the Stat took effect, was flung from the planet.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of travelling at immense speed without any body-reaction – no tightening of the gut, no adrenaline rush, not even fear; just the view, completely detached from the biology that makes us human.
Within minutes I was orbiting Zarathustra’s looming, grey face; my home for the previous six months.
The on-board positioning system overlay read: Colony Zarathustra (Phase II) – population 1 – (it had not yet had time to full scan the planet and register the fact that I, its only inhabitant, had left) - on my left the velvet void glittered with its infinity of burning stars; a yawning pit that defies contemplation on any level deeper than wonder.
The enormity of my situation, held at bay only by the Carapace – was that I was trapped in a transparent mote of virtually indestructible tempered armour in orbit around an uninhabited planet in the early stages of terraform.
The danger of atmospheric acceleration on my fragile body now past, the carapace stopped feeding me Stat and my body was gradually returned to my control, allowing me access to deep breathing and, after some callisthenic exercise, a chance to collect my thoughts.
Zarathustra was a beauty, her crust now changed to dull silver which reflected the light from her sun, Narcissus 3.
Her silver coat was, as I watched, being disrupted by the germinating seeds; erupting and expelling the long-dormant life in her core.
As I watched the silver exploded into raw gold; I understood her on a level deeper than the engineering of her terrain; engineering that I was complicit in developing; terrain more beautiful than the geographic programs that I had employed on her surface for the benefit of the Company and the profit of the System.
Just as Machinery hums beneath one’s feet when travelling InterOrbital; Just as the seeding results in the beauty of terraform, so too beneath the skin of all human endeavour there lies a greater force; a creative force that holds no allegiance to the fragile concerns of the body.
The System too had little concern for the fragility of the human body as long as it is able to perform its duty.
It had no need for the beauty of creating, nor for the crystal purity of understanding that a method may bring, the System was, in my eyes, merely a shallowly constructed edifice for all that lay below; all structure and no poetry; the business of influence and control - power.
I hit the trigger and, after a short delay while the Stat took effect, was flung from the planet.
There is nothing quite like the feeling of travelling at immense speed without any body-reaction – no tightening of the gut, no adrenaline rush, not even fear; just the view, completely detached from the biology that makes us human.
Within minutes I was orbiting Zarathustra’s looming, grey face; my home for the previous six months.
The on-board positioning system overlay read: Colony Zarathustra (Phase II) – population 1 – (it had not yet had time to full scan the planet and register the fact that I, its only inhabitant, had left) - on my left the velvet void glittered with its infinity of burning stars; a yawning pit that defies contemplation on any level deeper than wonder.
The enormity of my situation, held at bay only by the Carapace – was that I was trapped in a transparent mote of virtually indestructible tempered armour in orbit around an uninhabited planet in the early stages of terraform.
The danger of atmospheric acceleration on my fragile body now past, the carapace stopped feeding me Stat and my body was gradually returned to my control, allowing me access to deep breathing and, after some callisthenic exercise, a chance to collect my thoughts.
Zarathustra was a beauty, her crust now changed to dull silver which reflected the light from her sun, Narcissus 3.
Her silver coat was, as I watched, being disrupted by the germinating seeds; erupting and expelling the long-dormant life in her core.
As I watched the silver exploded into raw gold; I understood her on a level deeper than the engineering of her terrain; engineering that I was complicit in developing; terrain more beautiful than the geographic programs that I had employed on her surface for the benefit of the Company and the profit of the System.
Just as Machinery hums beneath one’s feet when travelling InterOrbital; Just as the seeding results in the beauty of terraform, so too beneath the skin of all human endeavour there lies a greater force; a creative force that holds no allegiance to the fragile concerns of the body.
The System too had little concern for the fragility of the human body as long as it is able to perform its duty.
It had no need for the beauty of creating, nor for the crystal purity of understanding that a method may bring, the System was, in my eyes, merely a shallowly constructed edifice for all that lay below; all structure and no poetry; the business of influence and control - power.
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