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To Humans

 

The double sealed doors take forever to go through their cycle, but finally I'm in my living space or cell or whatever you care to call it and I can dump the heavy tanks, take the skins off and relax. I leave my gear between the doors and leave the inner one open to create the illusion of more space.

 

The environmental controls go nuts trying to keep the humidity where it belongs. I appreciate the sensation as my own skin starts to dry. My space is six feet tall, six feet long and five feet wide. I lie down on my bunk and watch the swirling murk outside through the tiny port. This much space is expensive and so is having a port, but I earn enough to afford comfort.

 

The "radio" is on. We still call it that though it's really an entanglement com. Mine has fourteen channels. Fourteen snips of entangled wire linking me to the universe, or at least this chunk of the galaxy. Bach weaves his eternal crossword of melodic lines and fragments forming harmonies on the fly. I'm listening, engrossed in tjournal site he spiral staircase where a tiny fragment gets fitted into chords following the cycle of fifths. Round we go, me knowing that he will bring us safely home and end the piece where he started, but thought it's my ten thousandth trip round the spiral I still listen, engrossed that such a mind existed and could make this up live in real time sitting at an organ with a couple of manuals, a pedal board and hundreds of stops to choose from.

 

I'm slightly annoyed at the sound of the pumps and widgets that constantly throb and whirr in the background, extracting oxygen and nutrients from the surrounding murk. You'd think that I'd be used to it by now, but it's always there just behind everything else, not quite blending in. The music stops in mid note and a voice comes on. "To humans on life support everywhere. We are sorry to report that the Earth has been annihilated, producing a new asteroid belt between Venus and Mars. The cause is unknown at this time, as news is received we will make further announcements." The music resumed, finishing the interrupted note and the piece.

 

I lay on my bunk, on the verge of sleep, dozing to Bach and wondering if I still have a job.

 

                                               Peter Schug