The skeleton in the spacesuit stands at the entrance to the pier. The stitches are unravelling, the helmet fogged, the insignia faded to the point of illegibility, but still it works. Put in a pound and it laughs and laughs. It even gives an awkward little wave.
No one has ever put in a pound nor ever will.
_________
Notes:
1. Written on March 23rd, 2023
__________
First Broadcast
“…ust press that, and then speak into that.”
“I’ve already pressed that.”
“Claire!”
“What?”
“That means we’re already broadcasting. People can hear us right now!
“You know you’re not supposed to press the buttons, Claire! Only me and Ethel can press the buttons.”
“What? Why?”
“Because we’re the engineers!”
“I thought you were a poet?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, Claire. I am not a poet. I just write po-”
“So, anyway, what happens if I press this butt-”
(static/silence)
Second Broadcast
(strange ululations)
“What are you doing in here, Daniel? Your sisters said I wasn’t supposed to let anyone in here until they’ve finished writing their stories.”
“Singing.”
(ululations continue)
Last Broadcast
“…and then the spaceship EXPLODED! Everyone was killed horribly and no one survived at all. It was brilliant!”
“Claire! Press the button! Quick!”
“Yeah, Claire! You can’t say that on the radio!”
“Why not? I just did.”
“People might think it’s true.”
“Only people who are idiots. Anyway, you’re just jealous my story was better than your stories.”
“It was not!”
“In your story no one exploded at all.”
“Someone imploded in mine. That’s just as good.”
“No it’s not.”
“It is!”
“Imploding doesn’t even count. Especially not when they only imploded because they were sad! As if that would happen!”
“It’s a metaphor, Claire.”
“That’s even worse, Tina! Metaphorical implosions are the worst explosions ever and I hate them!”
“Wait, are we still broadcasting?”
“I don’t know. You’re the ones who said you knew how to use Dad’s stupid old junk!”
“We are still broadcasting!”
“Claire! You were supposed to press the button!”
“We told you to press the button!”
“No, you told me to never press the buttons ever again.”
“You’re allowed to press it when we tell you to press it!”
“That doesn’t make any sense at all and you both know it.”
“Just press the button Claire!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“No!”
“Well, I’ll press it then!”
“NO! No!”
“Urgh, Claire. We’re telling Mum! You’re ruining everything!”
“I don’t care! So anyway, what happens if I touch that button there?”
“What button where?”
“That one up there. The one that says do not touch.”
“Oh right, yeah, don’t touch that one, Claire.”
“Don’t EVER touch that one, Claire.”
“Why not?”
“Because it… Claire!? NO!”
(everything explodes. there are no survivors)
__________
Notes:
1. Written on March 20th, 2023
__________
Hana spread her wings and let the breeze take her where it wanted, floated away until the town was indistinguishable from the city, from the sea, from the forests and the fields, the sky, the clouds, the stars.
Closed her eyes, let the sun turn everything red, and didn’t open them again until she was on her way past the moons, halfway to Mars.
Maybe Jupiter if she missed her stop.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on March 20th, 2023
__________
“I don’t like ants,” Claire said, as she watched them carry the picnic away piece by piece. “I don’t like ants at all.”
It was, she thought, very important that everybody knew that.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on June 1st, 2022
__________
Antoine opens his eyes and wonders what the time is. He looks at his watch. Or where his watch would have been if he still had a watch, if he hadn’t lost it in the woods years ago, if it was still on his wrist and the numbers still glowed like tiny green phosphor stars in the gloom of the cave.
He lies back down, closes his eyes, begins to dream. In his dream, he opens his eyes and wonders what the time is.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on March 20th, 2023
__________