Can't you recognize the human in the inhuman?
Can't you recognize the human in the inhuman?
I have something to fight for and live for; that makes me a better killer. I've got what amounts to a religion now. It's learning how to breathe all over again. And how to lie in the sun getting a tan, letting the sun work into you. And how to hear music and how to read a book. What does your civilization offer?
I'm not anyone, I'm just myself; whatever I am, I am something, and now I'm something you can't help.
It is good to renew one's wonder, said the philosopher. Space travel has again made children of us all.
Perhaps I'm not their dead one back, but I'm something almost better to them; an ideal shaped by their minds.
Science is no more than an investigation of a miracle we can never explain, and art is an interpretation of that miracle.
She didn't watch the dead, ancient bone-chess cities slide under, or the old canals filled with emptiness and dreams. Past dry rivers and dry lakes they flew, like a shadow of the moon, like a torch burning.
The Martians were there-in the canal-reflected in the water.... The Martians stared back up at them for a long, long silent time from the rippling water....
The rockets set the bony meadows afire, turned rock to lava, turned wood to charcoal, transmuted water to steam, made sand and silica into green glass which lay like shattered mirrors reflecting the invasion, all about. The rockets came like drums, beating in the night. The rockets came like locusts, swarming and settling in blooms of rosy smoke.
They stood there, King of the Hill, Top of the Heap, Ruler of All They Surveyed, Unimpeachable Monarchs and Presidents, trying to understand what it meant to own a world and how big a world really was.
We earth men have a talent for ruining big, beautiful things.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories