Ficly

Motion

In space, anyone can hear you scream – should you scream loud enough. Vacuums mean nothing. Well, yes, agreed – perhaps an appropriate definition for vacuum; but, clearly, not what I’m trying to get across. What I am saying is that it is patently and pointedly absurd to scream in a vacuum, however, I find myself doing just that – screaming – loudly, throat-tearingly, pointlessly.

Of course, my sealsuit’s mike could carry my screaming to some entity capable of listening in. In which case my initial thought really does make a great deal more sense. And, if said conceived entity even cared enough to attempt to locate the source of said pointless (mindless?) screaming, what then? Given my current rate of travel, the potential vast interval between me and my unlikely, desperately prayed-for being, and my all-too-too-sullied flesh, there is likely very little my new imaginary friend could/would do to/for me.

Yet I continue to scream, babble, scream again – in between my semi-lucid thoughts.

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