It and Its Waters

The first day, It rained.

With clouds swollen like tits on a trash dump sow, It gathered its juice. Piled it on, swirled it up and around. You could see the point of saturation just left of Saturn if you had good, telescopic eyes. All of the piss and tears of generations of astronauts, intronauts, extronauts, pyschonauts, and robonauts gathering in a mass of roiling void goo.

The Earth was nothing but a giant space worm’s second heart, abandoned after an interstellar weight-loss fad took hold of the sector. We had all wanted out, but of course, having left, it was time to come back home. And It always rains on moving day.

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