Low Orbit.

Ours is a war of apathy and acceptance. All sense of power drained from us by our government, our media, and our education. Genius is a thing of the past. Why shoot for genius when you can lurk in the dark and forgotten corners of the mundande. Immemorably mourned as a victim of cancer. A man who loved his wife. A child stolen too soon. Old. I hope to be fucking old when they finally kill my head.
Thousands. Low Orbit. Armed with a space lazer. Because a floating immenitrable astroid with a lazer on it...hoo. That's where you want to be. Just a head. Floating above the little blue orb. Crosshairs neatly lazered into my cornea. Only one eye left, but still. Who needs depth perception when firing from space? Honestly.


Duke said…
“Houston? It’s 7:28 Am and I have a serious problem.”

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