night activity in unll

 

past the turquoise field
outside the range of comms now

when there’s only the ship’s A.I.
when there’s only one physical body in cryo
how does one explain the spectres of doctor, with a family, walking the curvature halls ?
how does one explain the forms, the voices, the actuality?

“there’s only two patients left in the complex’ he says.
by the end of this night, only one will survive

m.arie in an oblong computer processing unit
m.arie is pushed through sliding doors
m.arie and her relieved mother
nurses with masks
we, embedded and watching in the frozen room with
the body artist or the body of the artist
nearly touching the horizon of grief
we belong to that which will not survive
we belong to:

M (body open)
still in theatre
the husband of M, in a house, light years away.
the husband of M, frightened like a white rat.
the ism or son of M in cry0, nearly touching the starlight of grief
dreaming these things.

us at the core, watching

m.arie. the new, young one of unll
wheeled out of artist body
m.arie, the next child, sent into recovery (or nursery)
in the body of unll

M, (body open) filled with doomed past tense
M, the containment unit, contaminated
full of aborted, un-clarities, vagaries and meaningless body politic

M, the damaged body.
M. of the no use. to be cremated.

origin design specs demand only the machine and the body of unll to be moving in deep space
from what chemistry mind soup then, do these activities belong?

one imagines the artist of the body waking up in the unfamiliar.
one imagines him facing the table of night
not the blazing orange statuesque lights
seen through an open door, in the room of M
one imagines the body of the artist waking in familiar space

but he is no longer in known space

outside the range of comms now

past the turquoise field
#prose #fiction #decade4 #exiledartist #irvingpaulpereira #sglit

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