Wednesday, October 1, 2008


The differentials were astounding the integration exasperating. The moon was a few hundred miles from the promise of flight. If you examined history it had taken humans maybe a million years to learn to fly and they had to go outside the realms of the strictly natural to do it. The moon had no such option, it begrudgingly bowed at the seat of the laws of nature, all it could do was bide its time and orbit. It looked toward the fleeting promise of its lost salvation, lost indeed, Tommy's silver streaks had somehow vanished along with the rest of the party.

on the fireside/in the darkside/through the space/time side...

Friendly Fire seeped through the seems of torn space/time, a rift in reality that revealed nothing, except to those willing to investigate, not by observation, but by immersion. In the world left behind darkness was outside the reach of light, always running away. In the void this was not so. FF was smothered so much it could not see or sense itself. It vaguely remembered Simon, the explosion, the people. It pressed on if such a thing were possible. With no reference point, in the middle of nothing, movement probably didn't really exist, in reality (this one) maybe nothing else did either.

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