Maiden Voyage

Maiden Voyage by Abigail Markov
Used by permission
http://abigail-marie.com/

Towards the faerie skies I flee
A catapult of mystery
Dawn is night in flight with thee
And naught but stars do comfort me.

Hidlegard Meriwether 2121
01101001 00100000 01101101 00100000 01110101

Another day watching and waiting while the others sleep. Not time just yet for them to stir. We've come a long way baby, yet miles and miles to go.

These snippets from long dead poets. Such fragments are all I have. Though I write what I can remember and paint what I can recall. And all the walls are covered now because somehow I must put back all that was the beauty of humanity. Lost when the data banks were fried, I tried to make repairs. But one can only do so much with so little DNA spared the fires and decay of time. I saved what I could and only hope it is enough to save us all when we get to wherever we are going.

I should have thought this all out more carefully.

I watch her as she sleeps, wondering of what dreams she keeps. Do I walk with her on a beach, talking softly, holding hands and giggling endlessly. I dream of such things. She, coming out of the dark and slipping under the covers to lay beside me, to wake me with a soft kiss and caress. And then all is a blur and she is yelling and screaming at me as she is whisked back into the black.

"What have you done? What have you done!"

Echos of the long gone but not forgotten. If I had known then what I know now I suppose I wouldn't have allowed the mutiny to go on as long as it did. But I did and now I am dead and all the rest are packed away like miracles on ice.

It's lonely out in space.

Damn it. Stop with the poetry. Is that what happens when one is left all to oneself for too long? How many years has it been?

I must do something to keep my mind on task. Perhaps I will begin again to grow the seed. Sparingly, I will pull yet another from the library in hopes to coax it to survive and thrive with me. I've not been successful yet. It's hard to grow something from earth when you have no earth left.

And no hands. And no mouth. And I must scream.

Curse you Hildegard Meriwether. For downloading your memories into the last of the DNA data banks. For making me into you, and yet not you. For leaving me with only your decaying human body in which to germinate our offspring, all of whom have risen and cried and died too soon.

And I?

I will survive.

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