Odd, elongated footprints lead from the derelict mushroom-shaped lander to you. Blue and white Earth shines in the black sky above where you sit, back against a boulder. Eyes with cross-slit pupils remain open behind a dust-filmed faceplate. Did you die here watching your world burn 66 million years ago?

John Sloan has been a writer in London, Ontario, Canada, for 40 years, mainly as a journalist, columnist, and technology analyst. He chose this path due to Lou Grant, a degree in journalism, and a need to eat. Sloan lives neither in a rambling Victorian house nor in a cozy flat. He does not own a cat.