The Station, Part 49

As I sit here, I can take it all in. And it’s all quite beautiful. Such care taken into something that maybe only I would appreciate. I’ll avoid any egocentricity in thinking that this place is for my benefit. There are far greater forces at work—we both know that.

These forces, they have acted upon me as well. Inside and out. I anticipate and fear them as they come. But there has yet to be one alternation that has been detrimental to my progress. Quite the opposite wouldn’t you say?

I’ve had my fill of cold, pure water and the wonderful moss. The flavor is unlike anything I have ever eaten, but tastes completely natural. The food and water quickly reenergize me. My muscles are somewhat sore, but I think I could go again for many more kilometers. I’m such good shape now. The undersuit is holding up well. It’s rather tight now, stretched to its design limit. It was never designed for this kind of work. But as it was designed for the vacuum of space, tough and resistant. That seems so far away now…so unnatural now. Being surrounded by walls of metal. The myriad of colored lights that all used to mean something to me, but now are only senseless distractions. The scent of purified air, devoid of the dust brought by winds, so sterile and lifeless. How did I ever breathe such a thing? But I still feel and attachment, a longing. Like a missing piece of myself that was left behind there. I can’t thing of anything else that it could offer me. Oh, yes I can—hope of going home. It’s time again to move on. With every step I’m closer to making that happen. Towards the light I go.

I thought I would have more trouble handling the unnatural sunlight of this new place, but apparently my eyes are capable of near immediate adjustment. My skin feels the prick of cold long before my eyes take in the upcoming new wonder. And what do my ever resourceful eyes show me now?

The white of snow. A stark blue sky devoid of clouds. My skin prickles even more with the contact. By the stars, that white is endless. Pure, virgin snow that looks to have never had contact with a single footfall. And I see nothing else. It’s like a cruel trick. Just a short time before, I felt so prepared. And now, I might as well be naked and blind. And then, I think about it. I am not shivering. My eyes are not succumbing to snow blindness. This place must be so cold if there is this much snow. And it is snow. I’m picking it up my hand, which I must say looks more like a paw now. The hair is white as the snow and so think that no skin is visible any longer. I look closer at this new development. On an impulse, which could have been a very stupid decision, I’ve undone the seals on the foot coverings. What I find is expected, but still I can’t help but be surprised. The same white hair is here as well. And why should I be surprised? I know you aren’t. And my hairy feet feel so good all of a sudden. I can almost hear them exhale with relief. I had gotten so used to the tightness that I didn’t realize how constricted they were. I’m rolling up the pant legs and still there’s more hair. Hell, I might as well call it fur. I feel my face; of course it’s there too. I am prepared for this world. I think I need to do one more thing before I resume my journey. Because even though I don’t want to say it out loud, it think I’ve been given all that I need to survive. Human invention has no place here.