by Nate Pritts
In studying the anomaly it was determined that holiday decorations look sad out of season, that there's no excuse for the mistakes of my people. Red paper hearts on the front door into April, a cauldron that doubles as a planter in summer. Always the starscape to help keep me honest, to remind me that distance is easy to cross. The analytic belt I'm equipped with reminds me of an indescribable autumn from one hundred generations ago though even last year I was someone else. I was faced with a choice. Proceed with the same core or blow it up to restart & maybe go further. Most of my programming has survived into this new battle. I can smell faint ocean salt on the breeze & I have different reactions for its presence or absence. Now is the time to overcome problems. I debate the finer points of being desperate, of wanting things to remain as they are, though they can't. I'd rather not go into details since specifics make me queasy, like in pictures when people put their heads too close together. How can they stand such forced intimacy? I take off in search of my home planet. My resolve is stronger than ever.
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