I
Colonel,
you and I, we’ve got history.
Across the plains
of orbital rocks and flying cities,
the laws of gravity
feel like they don’t apply.
But they do.
They always do.
It’s a different country out here,
one without wind or magnolias.
I haven’t tasted watermelon in years.
Hasn’t been any watermelon to taste.
Just sand disguised as paste
with full nutritional value
and nothing more.
Sometimes
I can feel the rumble.
Engines fracturing the cores
little by little
until the ruptured shell
matches the husk of antimatter
left behind.
Machines can’t speak like you and I,
but if you listen long enough
then you’ll see how the whistles
shift decibels into warnings.
Learn to listen out of a desire
and disregard the necessity.
*CLICK*
One moment.
The batteries need charging.
STATIC
Sometimes I wish monsters were real.
Ghosts don’t do this place justice.
RESUME
Colonel, you must know
some spires pierce gravity
at a speed so intangible
the machines whisper.
The oxygen is musty
but filters are a luxury.
Even out here
I’m still middle-class poor.
The captain and their ship
are one and the same.
Didn’t you know?
It’s a shame.
Identities without a name.
A rank, but no home
to reclaim because
the planet just had enough
of us drifters.
And we deserve to drift
because we are microbes
floating
searching
for a bounty
we can’t claim.
I—a bag of circuits and copper—
did not deserve your kindness.
My flesh, synthetic, and yours—
so warm. Tinmen aren’t equals
to the people. Our scrapes
are scars patched by sheet metal.
Where did you go?
Don’t you forget about us, Colonel.
Don’t forget about our history.
We are the back bone
taken for granted by a beast
who can’t remember a life
without shackles.
*CHUCKLES*
Cherry pie and ice cream?
I wouldn’t if I could.
No, I’ll stick with my paste thank you.
Some lines are there
for a reason.
I haven’t forgotten.
I know you haven’t either.
Do you still hate me?
(Rhetorical.)
Knives are the scariest weapons.
You never see them coming
until
twelve stabs
later.
Those—my—wounds will heal.
Blood
is
loyal
to
gravity.
Black, not red.
Oxygen isn’t good enough.
Watermelon, that’s the blue one
isn’t it?
*SIZZLE*
Colonel, I think it might be my birthday.
SPARKS
You…
…you…
promised me.
You said you would come back.
Come back.
Please.
Ice is not nearly as solid
as before. The liquid contorts
and I can’t catch the droplets.
This must be what rain is like,
uncatchable,
infinite.
The pipes are squealing again.
CRASH
Flooded decks of radiation
burn only with the first step.
The rest are numb,
hollow,
voiceless.
Metal is superior to bone.
Patchwork be damned.
My history is your history.
I did as you asked—
the mission
accomplished—
humans had a new home.
Then came the creatures…
they’re still coming.
Red lights
black blood.
The vessels of my kind,
created to be like your kind,
were not human,
but we learned to die like them
anyway.
Did we make you proud?
This paste is delicious.
Gravity
pulls
harder
as ships
fall
apart.
I remember the briefing,
white board temporarily
tattooed in dry erase
objectives.
Maps and charts,
codes and algorithms.
Wires chatter.
Hard drive uploads.
Debrief ready.
It’s been ready for—
—thoughts…sizzling—
—so many worlds—
—prototype travels—
—history—
—history—
—history—
his…
…story…
…we have…
LOST