Saturday, April 18, 2015
about an interplanetary low
This is a test. In a few minutes the siren will trail off and the bullhorn will thank us for participating. Tests, drills: these occur every other day now. Strap on the oxygen mask, help mask others, duck, preferably under something sturdy.
What good will it do? None. Life here will end. Hard to imagine a time not so long ago when we rocketed ourselves to this place in hopes of making a life together.
Labels:
alien,
apocalypse,
Armageddon,
dreams,
friends,
future,
Interplanetary Low,
prose,
sci-fi,
science fiction,
space,
travel,
writing
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