Post by tubbyman on Jul 18, 2007 22:55:41 GMT -5
Marcus Flint, former professional chef and expert in the field of Astrology, stood alone by the fountain. His photo-luminescent blue eyes took in the sights as a normal pair of eyes were, but he was also aware of every molecule of the fountain on an even deeper level. He was inexorably tied to the cosmic energies that bound the matter to the physical plane of existence, perceiving and understanding the stream of water like nobody else could possibly hope to imagine. He didn't see the water of the fountain as a simple stream of liquid flowing quickly from the top to the basin at the bottom, he saw it as a large collection of molecules, all of which were moving at the same time in one direction or another.
He sighed as the thought faded from his mind. Had he really been reduced to thinking about such things in his spare time? What a sad existence was his. His eyes narrowed as he thought about everything he'd lost, the life and career he'd once had. He thought about his culinary career, his vast funds, his enormous house, his fast and numerous cars...
... His wife...
After all these years, waking up next to her radioactively decayed corpse still haunted his worst nightmares, which were some months only slightly worse then his best dreams. He tried to bring a hand up to his face to rub the temples of eyes that were no longer capable of producing tears, but the gauntlets of his containment suit bumped against the helmet of his face protector. He had only been wearing it since his return to Earth; he wasn't used to being able to touch nothing. As the hand drifted back toward it side, tightening into a balled up fist as he closed his eyes, forcing himself to stand erect despite his desire to just collapse on the floor.
He sighed as the thought faded from his mind. Had he really been reduced to thinking about such things in his spare time? What a sad existence was his. His eyes narrowed as he thought about everything he'd lost, the life and career he'd once had. He thought about his culinary career, his vast funds, his enormous house, his fast and numerous cars...
... His wife...
After all these years, waking up next to her radioactively decayed corpse still haunted his worst nightmares, which were some months only slightly worse then his best dreams. He tried to bring a hand up to his face to rub the temples of eyes that were no longer capable of producing tears, but the gauntlets of his containment suit bumped against the helmet of his face protector. He had only been wearing it since his return to Earth; he wasn't used to being able to touch nothing. As the hand drifted back toward it side, tightening into a balled up fist as he closed his eyes, forcing himself to stand erect despite his desire to just collapse on the floor.