Clouds like logs from the gods floating in the sewage of the sky.
The gigantic metal starships come thundering up the horizon at mach 99.
They tear the sky in half with their dorsal blades.
They tear television in half with snarling chainsaw fins.
Chainsaw in the sinking sun, lopping off the limbs of daylight.
Chainsaw in the crotch of the sinking sun, bifurcating the limbs of the
empty sun, separating the forks of the ancient sun. angels of an enemy
sun. anklets of a slavegirl sun. anklets of the sinking sun. angels of
the sinking sun. come up like a flotilla of clouds. Like a ballistic
flotilla of enemy missiles, the color of an enemy sun. The Soviets have
claimed the sun for themselves, and intend to charge a duty to all
other countries usurping its light -- they're willing to fight for it,
Clouds like ursine gods, hanging off the underside of cave ceiling of
the sky. Hanging like sausages in the airplane-infested civil twilight.
Twilight Lil & Twyla, singing a song of farewell to the sun. They've
mounted a mission to place a gigantic mirror in orbit to function as a
second sun. It's a very large mirror indeed, a big big goddamn mirror,
but it's worth the ten quadrillion dollars it cost, because it
effectively adds a new star to our solar system at less than one
millionth the gravitational cost. And, it's neat because you can move
it around so that the angles of the shadows are utterly alien -- this
is the thing that would strike you in the moments before the shockwave
hit. You might not notice it consciously, but you would see these
shadows growing at angles entirely cockeyed from the ones you're used
to. This would be your last thought before you were incinerated in the
soviet bomb for stealing their sunlight.