Here Among the Stars Prologue2Prologue IIThe sunset was distant, though strong. Its last rays, desperate to make their appearance, pierced the transparent atmosphere, an artificial barrier, of SOCO 2012 and seemed to Lynn to be focused on pounding against her throbbing muscles as she sprinted. But despite her exhaustion, she continued to press forward, for on her tail was merciless fire falling from automatic pulse rifles.Its only a training exercise, she kept repeated to herself between gasps. It had little ego-boosting effect, however. The machineguns were operated by computers, pitiless and unresponsive to a trainees cries for sanctuary, no matter how desperate. The guns were meant to be undetectable by sight, mounted every few feet along a cold, charcoal gray composite wall that seemed to creep off into infinity in the distance. To a frightened child scurrying across the academy grounds like a startled rat, the automatic weapons were no mere training exercise; they we
Here Among the Stars PrologueIPrologue IDate: A.D. 2990 (Earth), Martian Sidereal Day 30Location: Space Colony SOCO 2012, Areostationary OrbitThe air was thick with the pungent aroma of cold metal and gun smoke. The smoke rose in plumes from the barrels of military issue pulse rifles, each having a half-mile range and deadly 97% accuracy. The clamor of the soldiers electric charges raining down like lightning death pierced the ears of overwhelmed spectators. Still, the persistent rumble of marching continued despite the hellfire.Among the onlookers, a lanky girl of no more than 14 years brushed several misbehaved strands of dusty blond hair away from her eyes in order to more clearly see the spectacle at hand. Next to her, a terrified 7 year old her brother buried his face as deep as possible into the folds of her dusty t-shirt, clutching as tightly as he could to it, attempting to hide himself from the noise of his uncomfortable, charcoal-colored surroundings.It doesn
But a ManI am but a man, I think, therefore I have consciousnessThis cognitive process that pushes me to understand,To understand that to think is not to knowI am but a man, with conscience and desire fickle, purpose perhaps premeditatedOh how I am limited by the bounds of my perception,Though it is my only tool and connectionI am but a man, stranded inside my own thoughtsHere lies the quintessence of my precious sentience,But buried inside my apathy and contemptI am but a man, perched precariously at the very edge of meaningBut still, how the cunning masterminds, rhyme and reasonElude my grasp at every turnI am but a man, and the representative of a listless generation.