The last building pierced the atmosphere, touching the edge of space.
“The head of a spider, the body of a schnauzer.”
Climbing up along the giant electronic brain, they left breadcrumbs made of improvised explosives.
He created a perfect machine, one that would outlive the universe and eventually create another.
The dots of light across the station went out in a wave. Then the air compressors stopped.
They say the ground is false, the sky is an illusion. Still, things grow, and night comes.
Projectors cast the complex navigational calculations directly onto the faces of the pilots.
“This organization”, he said, “is a priority that supersedes personal feelings and morality.”
Strapping on the device wasn’t as easy as it looked, the virtual appendages were ungainly.
When the fit of madness passed, they were confused, groggy, incontinent.