“With one formula, we’ve reached singularity. Those black skies will be mapped; endless mysteries will become facts.”

That was the pitch, anyway. Now, standing on this… living satellite, I shiver despite the heat.

Overcome by hostile hosts, it dawns. Now that we live faster than light,

so too we die.

James P. Spitznogle is an aspiring writer from the star-scraping hills of West Virginia.