All-kind is exhaling. Space is not explored beyond the rust planet. Long lost in their appeal are intimacy, aggression, wealth, sport and storytelling. Curiosity and faith are vaguely entwined in dark, bloodless numbles. Yet, there is a faint horizon. Two have come. One named Eve and One refusing to be Adam.
He: Ares, now that’s a name.
Eve: You shall be Adam. It’s for effect so don’t argue.
He: How can I argue? How pompous of me to want to choose my own name.
Eve: It is a self-absorbing exercise.
He: You chose yours.
Eve: No, it was given as a result of being.
He: Given? Was it etched in the stars?
Eve: Look, you shall be Adam. Not Ares. Not Gatsby. Adam.
Two does not accept this world as void, waiting for death in the heliospace. More is sought and now, by way of ancient technologies, they may have found a way to cajole All-kind off its gaunching hook.