*****
The nameless and dying old man laughs as he remembers his first mushroom experience where he felt a comforting presence, a Goddess named Grace with whom he had been in particularly, overwhelmingly, wholly, and endlessly describable love with.
He had never met her; he felt, it seemed, a wormhole open when he took the mushrooms, and what before had only been a dream, an imaginary friend, was then real: somewhere, in some dimension, at some point, maybe in a solar system and timeline and peoples which mirror his own; and there she would be, and if she was who he knew she was, then...
He looked out over a thinly veiled moon which had a halo whose radius was five moons put one on top of the other, and he wept, smoking something as he did, and he felt the stretched index finger of Grace firmly poking at his heart.
Then she was real...
*****
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Pale Fragments
Science FictionAn alien Robot came to me before she left to die. She sang to me the stories of how her ancient world and species ended, how she was created to travel through Time, how (in the far future) she met an essential boy named Anders, how she named herself...
