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 |   A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life. |
Started July 1st 2019 for contests, etc. as other blogs are filling up and have other purposes.  I'm starting a new blog because
I'll be linking to
I've started an appendix (I no longer have one personally) to keep track of my Space Cadet journals for Space Blog. It's a work constantly under construction. Mind the mess.
I needed to start a folder for contests as there are so many deadlines and details to remember.
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| Officer Kat: We are a people of dreams. It's how we process all we've taken in. Others foolishly think we're sleeping. "Keep on course", I yell as another wave rocks us. Of course they don't need my command, but to the inexperienced crew it comforts them that someone is in command ... and not them. I stifle a laugh remembering. I dream as I listen to the broadcast coming from the unknown object. A mix of voices, a mix of chit-chat behind one plea, find us. Then an alarm and flashing lights. "Ignore it", I yell out. No one dare question that tone of voice. I spent years perfecting it. I listen closer. I recognize one voice. I command the person nearest me. "Tell Cook to bring me something warm and creamy to drink. At once." I note how quick she obeys. Good. She's not distracted. "Thank-you." I smile at Cook and hand him a note and say softly, "Console 23." It's off to the side but within my sight. I must be wary. I must be certain there is no life. Another jarring wave. I motion with my hand at a crew member who turns to look at me. "Steady," is all I say in a neutral voice meant to calm. In so many ways I'm calm. At the corners of my mind I hear the moaning, the dying pleas, the incessant chatter beckoning me. I'm impervious to anything outside this dream. In my dream they have been dead for centuries. Lost Colony 71. So this is where it all ended ... or maybe not ... the historians don't mention the Green Star ... and even then they would have. Perhaps it's just a recording or many recordings set to confuse. Ah ... another voice pleading ... from a different people, a different time. The 'ride' begins to smooth out as we leave the object and turbulence behind. "Cook. Finish what you are doing and bring me a refill ... please." I say this with my "sweet" voice to convey my unconcern. Cook would have told me if his scans for life had proved positive. His silence confirms my dreams. I sip on the creamy brew and beckon Officer 90210. "A few hours, maybe a day, and this command is yours." I purr and close my eyes to return to dream. From:
Prompt: Where do our dreams lead us? Don't chase your dreams, live them! For:
2,599 |
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