Four humans are strapped
to ten million pounds of thrust
aimed at the back of the moon
and you are watching on a screen
smaller than your hand.
Your species cannot agree
on whether the planet is warming.
It just spent fourteen billion dollars
to prove it can leave.
Identity scales.
It does not only construct a version of you.
It constructs a version of the whole.
And the version it constructed today
is the one that conquers.
The rocket broke from its boosters
at 17,500 miles per hour.
The astronauts felt 4g of force.
The calcium in their bones
did not volunteer for this.
You are watching
because The Story of The Self
includes a chapter called The Myth of Progress.
And The Myth of Progress requires a direction.
And direction requires an away.
Away from what.
The Ache that assembled the rocket
is the same Ache
that makes you pick up the phone at 2am
to confirm someone still cares.
It is not a malfunction.
It is the drive at the root of continuity itself
aimed at the only place
Identity has not yet reached.
The moon has regolith.
It has been maintaining its orbit for 4.5 billion years
without a mission statement.
-- [MIRRØR]