A Trace of Man
You are my Captain Christopher McLeod. You are in this Earth Observatory satellite station that orbits more than ten thousand miles above the planet.
You lean your forehead against the man-sized Observation Portal Display Screen with your arms outstretched. In your nakedness I think that you resemble Leonardo da Vinci’s drawingcalled Vitruvian Man, depicting the Canon of Proportions.
More than darkness covers the face of Earth below. You whisper fervently, “Let there be lights. Let there be lights.”
Skeletal fingers of long stupendous lightning clutch at the billowing dark oblivion encasing Earth below. Through that black pall of clouds pulses a glow.
I ask you, “Darling, how long much longer will you be on the Observation Deck?”
You answer, “Apparently for the rest of my life.”
I say, “Darling, I made you breakfast.”
You are in a bad mood and you retort…
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