Old man like me wasn’t much use when the Buggers came. Me and the kids, we went hindin’. Their Ma’s and Pa’s gone fightin’.

When there weren’t no more soldiers, we went runnin’.

When most everyone died, we kept goin’. Across this broken country.

When the Buggers took Julie, then I went ahuntin’.

I busted me some Bugger face, smashed me some Bugger bones, killed me a Bugger Queen. Then I brought Julie home. There’s still some fight in these old bones.

We don’t hide no more. We don’t run no more. The kids are grown and they go Bugger hutin’.


On the edges of the solar system lies an ancient ship, buried deep in the icy embrace of Pluto. No one one knows how long it’s been there. No one knows where it came from.

We’ve clawed our way across the solar system. Three years, half the crew dead, and so much heartache. We’re nearly out of food and fuel, there won’t be a return home for us. We knew this from the beginning. We have no regrets.

We have seen such marvelous sights.

They say curiosity killed the cat, but the things it must have learned before it died.


There was dust everywhere, when we cracked open up the sealed derelict ship. We strode through it’s empty corridors and peeked into abandoned quarters.

And there was dust everywhere.

How could it be?

When the ship lacked oxygen. When it had been sealed for a thousand years in the deepest and darkest of space.

We got to the bridge and downloaded the logs of the ship. It showed horrible things.

Everything in space is relative. We had thought the dust was everywhere. What we hadn’t realized was that the dust was everywhere we were.

And the dust was very hungry.

The Book of Creation

There was a book that held the words of power and creation and there were beasts wanted it.

How they hunted us.

It was our curse, to protect the book. To run, constantly. To never know peace. There were times when it seemed too much to bear. To watch loved ones fall and never know a home.

And we did die. In suffering and in pain. We fended off the beasts, but one by one we fell. But we always kept the book safe.

For we were the people who spoke the words and brought forth creation on this world.


We walked in circles and the birds did the same, gliding easily on the rising thermals and barely beating a wing.

You wondered what they thought, looking down at us.

I didn’t know what to say. They were birds and from their view, we all looked the same. The beast great and small, we were all carrion to them. What did they care how we spent our lives?

It’s the closest we’ll ever get to fly, you said, as we lay down in that green field.

She was right.

Bit by bit, piece by piece, we ascended into the sky.