Even from this distance it seemed immense, as hope should always be. To be able to write a few words you have to think them first, so it seemed pointless to use the makeshift pencil: it would have read my thoughts anyway. The terra-forming module, which had its own resistance capsule, was crushed, and the seeds and embryos we were to put in the incubators were also scattered in the red dust between the rocks. “Heaven, Heaven,” whispered the distant voice, and I stripped leisurely, immersing myself in the warm, feathery embrace of the water. We didn’t have much to do so we ate and had sex almost continuously. If the terraforming failed or didn’t fit within predetermined parameters we’d spend our days side by side until we decided otherwise. “No harps please,” I whispered but apparently it was already too late. Remembering the broken water tanks, I said:
“There was a river in heaven with crystal clear water.
