Las descubiertas


The planet is strung out, coming down like an old junkie with no new ideas. That we are here at all, the Occupation, as we have finally learned to call it, once seemed natural or at least inevitable. It was open-ended, but no longer. Many of us will leave or have left already. Others have come to understand the cold. The I among us are gone, but there are those who have the knack of the old power. Some have gone past the glass into the flats of the Utopian Desert. There there are caves, waves of stone, roads made by meteors, holes in the hoarfrost, doors and floors that have grown there but seem made. They are like graves.

Las descubiertas are there. They are patterns. They think and create thought. The I could read them but they have been illegible to most humans until now. Now they have demands. They have needs.

Stendahl