I would rather the fire-storms of atmospheres than this cruel descent from a thousand years of dreams, into the starkness of the capsule, where two of our crew still lay suspended, cool in their tombs of sleep. Those nagging choirs of memory, the tubes and wires worming from their flesh to machinery I would have to cut....

Such midwifery is but one function of the leader here, floating in a sac of fluid dark; a clear century of s___e away from Earth. While one man stares from the trauma of his birth attending to the hypno-tapes a__uring him that this is reality, however grim, our journey's end....

Landing itself was nothing, we touched upon a shelf of rock selected by the automind .... and left a galaxy of dreams behind....

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