The Transhuman Comedy

Since I'm getting international acclaim for these snippets, time to get back in the saddle, though I confess I was difficult to inspire with this one. Nothing against Christoph Gerber's "Space Tour," #546 on this page, but views of ringed gas giants from one of their moons have been pretty common lately.

Tof pressed his nose against the ship's window. Outside lay a rock-strewn desert out of ancient Arizona or Alpha Centauri IV. "Isn't it neat?"

Gerber banked the shuttle. They flew low, below the tops of the natural spires of khaki basalt rising above the plain a few hundred meters apart. Flying between them left his augmented reflexes unchallenged. "It's a marginally habitable moon."

"But Grand-Orb is so close! You can see its clouds and count its rings!"

Gerber sighed. "It's a ringed gas giant. The galaxy is full of them. This trip is just a milk run. It's the antisense of wonder."

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