...After millenia of looking up at the stars, and further to the light that casts its crimson rays upon us, we now look to our sister planet who reflects our sun's beauty. Through the centuries we have observed our sister, told tale of her changes and built telescopes to see her more clearly. After the successes of the orbiters, it is time to send our bravest to her surface. May your journey be safe and swift, with the blessing of the eternal current that flows through our oceans and through us all...
***
Our bathysphere launches towards our sister planet, and her reddish hue grows purple. Her features, the dark craters and light striations so admired through the ages, become more defined. The purple ocean appears to have waves, but made of small solid vegetation, rather than liquid. Rather than the up-down of the kelp forests of the north, this forest forms a wide canopy like a crown. Without liquid to cradle it and let it float, how does the vegetation stay upright? And is it truly life-giving vegetation, or some geologic feature? We spend hours upon hours viewing through our window, and excitedly theorize about the possibilities.
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...The bravest have arrived in orbit of our sister, and they have sent us their observations. It has helped us draw new conclusions from the unoperated orbiters and rovers sent in the past. For example, through firsthand observations, we have learned why past attempts at floating probes have become submerged, and why floor rovers have sustained more physical damage than expected. In the next phase, our cosmonauts shall finally step foot on this new world!...
***
We emerge from our bathysphere onto the surface-floor of our sister planet. The sea is thin and gaseous, and the buoyancy is very small. We are unable to swim with any verticality, only horizontally. Still, the vegetation grows tall above our heads, fronds floating high with the current. We clamber over hills and cross fissures, and curious arthropods follow our movement. We pause and inspect them. They produce humming noises through vibrations of their leg-parts. They are able to swim by moving part of their exoskeleton to reveal thin flippers which they then beat furiously, and do not use the rest of their body for motion once off of the floor. We attempt communication with them, by flashing stimuli and watching for their response. We record our observations, and then our day on our sister planet comes to an end. We return to the bathysphere and attach it to the ascent module, and return home.
Part of a (very delayed) author swap with Snow!
My ma’s been telling me for weeks to go down to the legsmith, and I finally found the time yesterday. I found him in the back, hammering out a new titanium patella (top of the line, and priced like it!). Down into the mechanics room, he opened me up, completely in shock at my decades-obsolete components. It’s been a good 8 years, he said, since someone last came in here with treated leather tendons. No wonder it creaked while I walked! When I shared the good news with my Pa he was baffled. But everyone has leather knees! He exclaimed. That’s why it always hurts to walk. Right?
From the vantage point in the cafeteria window I can look out across the river, down towards the two mountains in the city, a span that would take a full day to cross by foot. I can’t claim to grasp the distance I cover on the daily metro to work; through neighbourhoods and under highways and over the river, all flashing by in the walls of the subway tunnel. I abstract it away with maps, station names, metric units, and my own warped perception of the spaces I live in. And yet on a clear day it is made so clearly real by the mountain that looms over my home, just a bump on the horizon.