Belchtwisted delusions seeking groups to accept our say. Acceptance of what we feel by groups of today. In that way I take the old and slay. What the hell was I thinking? That's a poem I wrote drunk, and even I cannot understand it. My egotistical side says thats because it is pure genius and only a few can understand it. My practical side says its babblings of a drunk. Please disregard. On to facts. To things predestined in need. That red planet. Our neighbor. Our new home. Our old home. Funny it will be for all to see, that garbage saves the day. Our one planet producing a product that when rotted will produce gases, as well as nutrient rich solids. Comical to the extreme. Will be the use of illegal drugs to speed up the processes. In the growth, then the rot, then the changing of time. Water the commoditiy they haven't unlocked. It the direst need. In it a land lives or dies. Onward, outward, when the mining of space becomes fact. When it is understood how to pulverize mass in space, to obtain desired products through applications of pulverized matters. Here in lies Star Trek. Herein lies our journey into the cosmos. Fools are we. In our power the fires of GOD. But as children we walk around not realizing it's danger. Like children we may burn the house down. Playing with matches in secret because Dad is out of the room. When it's knowledge takes us farther away than any could know. Others walk quietly, happily, content. I walk with the voices. They tell me things. But they don't mean to. They don't shut up. When I succeed in damping them down to a dull roar with drugs and alcohal. I still have my own thoughts churning them all together into pieces forming pictures. The pictures are fact. But they often depend on actions. They branch off into new paths depending on every action. And the puzzle grows. yet it all ends in a knot tied together as if the paths were but a walk in the woods. One of many trails. Traveled many times. Each path a lesson learned. Old knowledge. Lost in time. Bring it up they balk. What once was considered science is now considered magic. What shall be and what is are not that same. I prattle. Shotguns. Pyramids. Darkness. Water. Shotguns. They have barrels of differing sizes. Shots to do different things. How like a missle is a bullet. How like a bullet a rocket. How like a pyramid is a base to support a barrel. How like the bullet is the capsule carrying the crew. How like a target is the moon. Space. Mars. To structure wasted gases. Those of old rocketry. To use those escaping gases to gain more velocity for the cargo sent. How wise the old to do as we would have and stucture large things on mathematics, and geometric design. How wonderous a Pyramid. Where are the Pyramids of our time? Pyramids. A shape of design well suited a dusty, dry, windy place. Flat edges layed on plane to brunt the assualt of time. Yet I would raise one. High above the ground I would raise it. Pillars of stone, both round and large. Set around the whole of the building. Underneath, a step up to a walk. The walk encompassing the whole of the building. Below the step is a new walk. It too travels around, and is lined with columns offset from those on the exterior. Next it is a raised step. Rising to it, one realizes the first two series of steps are but dust catchers. For falling below you appears more steps. Each set with a walk. Each with columns offset from those of their neighbor. The stone you stand upon is no longer the rough sand stone of the outside. It appears smoother. The further down you go the more smooth the floor and columns appear. As you near the center they are polished. Some appearing to be made of marble. Those nearer the center appearing to be coated in gold, if not solid gold. The floor seems to pitch at a slight angle towards the center. You notice it is much cooler here. And you can hear dripping. For ahead is a fine column. It looks to be made of glass. So fine its polish you could look through it, but it is dark. Obsidian. So here lies a place where water is. Is this a well? Was this built around a well to protect it? How is it the water has come to be here. Why are the water droplets falling down the faces of the columns? for it appears all the columns nearest the center. the more finely polished. They appear to be crying. They look to be weeping water from their surface. But no. Only the side the wind seems to be coming from seems to have water on it. For there is a wind here. A cool steady wind. It was so hot outside. Here tho it is cool. Calm. Dark. How is it I see even tho I know I have passed by many columns to get here. Each blocking the light of it's neighbor. For in a dream I walk. Wondering why the voices are telling me of this. Why they are painting this picture, and of what worth it is to me and the world. Wondering why the voices have brought me to this place of darkness. Darkness. Floating. It's in the windows I love sitting. I shut down all lighting and sit for hours watching the cosmos unfold. The views often appear to change little to those who view them seldom. To me I can see the changes our slow passage makes. A venture insane. to float to that which is next. To search new galaxies. A grand scheme. Foolish tho it was. We float. Steadily. We grow as we scavenge things in our path. Meteors. Comets. Asteroids. So far our luck has held, and no planets or stars have blocked our path. The scientist aimed true. How is it they forgot simple physics? We can't stop. Oh, we can leave, and make trips, but once we are out of range our exploring and scavenging is done. Yet we do grow. Our children raised here from the start may never fair well on a planet of gravity. They move as if swimmers. Adjusted perfectly to the surroundings since birth. They do well on the depleted oxygens reserves. Needing a tenth of our needs. They no longer look as we do. They are longer. The fingers on their hands longer. The chest smaller, thin and long. It is not for them we seek a new planet. It is for us. We old ones who wish to see a sunrise again. To view seas filled with life. Land where breathing is not done painfully fighting for every breath, in a atmosphere fouled by hundreds of thousands of others. A planet where food is not the mush eaten daily, that supplies all needs but has lost all taste and textures. The new ones find these things fine. It is for the old we still check any planets we do happen upon. The old and their dream of humans as they were before the journey. For now it appeared we had two races. A division easy to spot by merely tabulating age, but as obvious as the physical changes. Two species now floated through space. We grew as we floated. much quicker than anyone could have ever dared imagine. Whole swaths through the asteriods detrus of dead planets. Stripping the ice particles from a gas giant to far from it's sun to support our life. A daring move to not only harvest part, but the whole of a comet. As supplies grew, the dwellings grew. Soon we were exceeding oxygen outputs. Thin air for us old timers. Often needing suits to just go through a few doors. Only the grow rooms affording temporary relief from the straining pains of breathing. But more often than not it would be the old timers who ran the grow rooms. Those born here often complaining how heavy the air was. how the humidity was enough to kill. So in it's way assignments were made often more on comfort rather than placement strategy. Ahead was coming a great mining opportunity. Several moons of a smaller planet on the outskirts of a lost solar system looked to be nearing our field of retrieval. Should the be close enough we would attempt to grab them. Our field of gravity had grown over time. The metal centers, and nuclear reactor at our center appeared to add to our gravity. Using the mass of our ship we had found a way to lasso smaller bodies. We were prisoners of our refuge, but we grew. How long until we hit the final blackness we all believed lay at the edge of the universe no one had yet guessed. So until then we grew. Comets were few and far between. It was gas giants and those planets furthest out we counted on to supply our water. We recycled as much as we could, but there is still loss. Using mining practices we would identify the type of composite material of the ices near us, and cut huge blocks to be floated away. But how often we we be lucky enough to float near these giants. How lucky we had made the first stretch of darkness. The food held out. Our spirits held out. The ship survived all it's first manuvers. But near the end of the last big dark crossing, we near all died from lack of water. That was when there were much less of us. Even with the young using less than we, it'll be a hard time if the next big dark takes longer to get through. We grow, but we need water. I should bring it up with the next council. Water. I did love it. One always believed a place paradise until they lived there. When I say live, I mean stay. Not those vacationers who fly in on their rocket skids. Not those who lived and stayed in the finer places of tourism. But the ones who live there. 24/7, or 72/21 in our case. When one lives in a place they learn the problems. The things that make ones stay less comfortable. The pest. The problems. Well lets face it. The work. If you live in paradise, you probably work there. No one stays in paradise forever. Those who could afford to find no time, because they are making more money all the time so they can afford to live in paradise. They get caught in a loop. They forgot the initial reason they strove to succeed to begin with. In forgetting they make their own hells. While I chose mine being an idealogic fool. Believeing it better to work in paradise, than work in hell. yet it was those dolts from hell who had somehow squandered enough to afford a short visit to a place where they would be treated as kings. Somehow they came here and were treated as kings. This probably being a trade off. I got to enjoy here all the time except when I was working, which seemed all the time. And they got to be kings for a short time and went back to the foulness that is space. Trade offs and balances. Well work awaited so I quickly donned my suit. It wasn't supposed to be cold today, but the puppys had been seen around lately, and even tho they were somewhat harmless, they could make you late for work, or at worst get you too stupid to realize what danger you might be in. Checking all seals to make sure my skin wasn't exposed, I cast a glance at my suit levels, and satisfied step towards the hole in the floor. |