Thursday, November 20, 2008

Put Your Message In A Candle And Light It

Just one little bottle of oxygen left, boys. Down to stubs of pencils. Rattled around the galley looking for crusts and found a few. Stale. Nice and crunchy, though. And while crunching, this thought: How did a rocket this size get inside the hospital? Without breaking any windows, I mean. And am I to trust the information that we are inside the hospital, on the third floor, in a largish room formerly used for dancing? Dancing by who? To what music? If I could hear the music I could hazard a guess at the year.

And the empty space-suits, clipped and closed and helmets on, laid out on the acceleration couches as if their owners were still inside them. They're not, though. There's nobody inside any of these space-suits.


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