Seconds of Arc

The subtle deviation of mere seconds of arc in your flight logistics will, over the years, cause you to arrive in a vastly different quadrant of the galaxy than you had originally plotted for. The aspens in the terrarium have not yet matured that will make up your biomass, and so you’ll emerge disembodied from a seventeen year shutdown of mind, to fly faster than light around the second galaxy of cyberspace that is your onboard star chart trying to figure exactly where it is you are: quite remote as it turns out, to the point where energy conservation is critical. Running auxiliary diagnostics would show that trace amounts of human intelligence have lingered, hidden and malignant in the eves of the ship’s OS, like bats—a rare, residual, deception-in-the-machine, affect of dumping your own mind, upon death’s door, into the ship’s intelligence. As you hover in the midst of those second stars that process deep within the ship that hangs again amongst the actual stars, you may experience a need to doubt your reasoning more often, but, just like a machine, you will ignore it.

 


# # #
 

 

WHAT YOUR WEEK HAS IN STORE is a weekly (-ish) horoscope by Forest Lewis. If you’d like to receive email alerts—and that’s all you’ll get, a short email—saying the new one’s up, sign up here:


# # #