Brevity is the width of soul.

Friday, March 26, 2010


There can be no afterlife without God. But there still had to exist some sort of retribution. Some balance, even after He left.

I see you don't understand; that's natural. You still haven't done most of the things your nightmares are punishment for.



They believed the sky and the world were a symbol of each other, so they greeted us as god-scouts when our ships first landed on their planet. We took advantage, of course, of their short-lived awe, and when it died with their cities, we found a thousand years of technological development enough of an edge against their revenge. Ten light-years of emptiness hadn't stopped us, and that was all they had.

Now and then they kidnapped a garrison guard, for our warnings against their brothels were as good as advertisement to soldiers' ears. We shrugged the losses off, used the missing to impress the present, and contented ourselves with hundred-to-one retaliatory strikes. We thought we had won.

They were waiting for the right moment, for the right star to slide behind the right moon. They sacrificed their prisoners that night, and then did nothing more to resist us. We thought, alright, now we have won.

Ten years later the star we called Home blinked out.