(The theme is a stormy night with a single piece of burning wreckage as the background. There's ten minute day night animation happening as the image changes. Weather patterns cycle and so on. While the wreckage stays burning.)
Today we have a piece of fiction from the writer Enn of the Song Dominion. Here unedited from its original form as submitted.
I don't recall the where or the why, but I find myself standing on a nondescript planet, right next to the remains of my spaceship. I spend some time watching whispers of smoke raise from compacted metal and nanotubes; the wreckage.
I don't seem too concerned about my situation, and after some consideration it dawns on me that I'm not concerned about anything.
Suddenly, a whisper. "Probe the wreckage," it tells me. I chuckle, an inane task.
Although I give a sideways glance to the burning carnage, the nagging doesn't subside. Odd. Am I missing something? I examine the wreckage again, but longer this time, and I start to notice things that would otherwise go unnoticed. The glistening shine of the not-yet-blackened outer hull, the way the flames lick the remaining cargo that surrounds the crash site. Blinking slowly, I still feel compelled to probe what laid in front of me... Am I doing something wrong?
I blankly gaze ahead, allowing my mindsim to connect me with selfsame spacers who seem to be in similar situations. Pain. Anger. Hundreds of voices crying out at once. Too much for me, I mumble some nonsense to the mindsim and the voices go silent. But I understand now, and I understand what the others cannot. The beautiful wreckage, they fail to appreciate it, to cherish it. To love it. Like I do.
--
It's been two whole days, and I spend every waking hour enjoying the comfort of the burning wreck, examining it over and over again. Soon I hear voices that I didn't hear before. They talk about insane things that would only make sense in another reality. IC? OOC? Bugs? I probe the wreckage again, and I feel calm.
Something to the south calls to me; nags me. I seem unable to give appreciation to the wreckage anymore. Could this be my new task? "I won't take long," I promise the burning lump of metal. With great hesitation, I turn my head away, and leave to see what beckons.
--
Despair. It's been nearly a year since I last saw it. I ask others about the wreckage as they pass me on Danica station. Some remember, some don't. The ones that do never speak fondly of their experience. What sad people, I think to myself. Useless. Unappreciative. It took a while, but with enough marks saved I hop onto my ship and head for the nearest voidgate. "I'll find you again," I utter aloud as I punch in the final commands for the autopilot. The ship's hull shakes as the thrusters reach their maximum output.
I don't pay the starchart any notice, all I can think about is my return to the beautiful wreckage.
A beep. Several. Hazard lights bring me to attention and I look up at a window. Boy, that star is getting pretty close.
Enn
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