While the swirling hues of blue and green and gold aren’t visible to the naked eye, I’ve long since memorized its cloud of dust and starlight.
The same beautiful colors found in her eyes.
“Fuck.”
Moving on doesn’t mean forgetting.
My ribs strain beneath the crushing pressure of Leo’s words. Every day, the implications of my research war with the consuming gravity of memories. Fighting to hold onto them—to let go.
The cruel paradox that defines more than my work.
I lower the instrument, gripping it so fiercely the edges dare to bite past leather before I shove it into my pocket.
Then I’m clutching the iron rail, muscles tensed around bone and sinew. It’s just a thought—what if I jump—then I’m suddenly climbing over, my back pressed to the railing, my fingertips curledaround the rough metal lip. The only solid thing preventing me from tumbling down.
Most people never act on their intrusive thoughts.
Most people allow fear to hold them back from doing the unspeakable.
Such unspeakable things haunt my waking world the way nightmares torment the damned.
I lean farther out, letting gravity grip me, the tips of my fingers giving an inch. Adrenaline floods the chambers of my heart, static frenzy setting my blood ablaze.
The rush is exhilarating. The possibility of letting go. Of surrender. Of gravity claiming me all at once with the bloody slip of my fingers. Sent crashing to the rocks.
Returned to stardust.
Through the howl of wind and roaring waves, a sound slices through the dark. Awareness prickles the back of my neck. I strain to see past the cliffside, my vision obscured by the dense night mist—until the sound comes again.
It’s unmistakable this time. A cry for help.
Not just any cry.
Hers.
Without fear to hold me back, I do the unspeakable.
And jump.
The network of neuronal cells in the human brain and the cosmic network of galaxies.
Although the relevant physical interactions in the above two systems are completely different, their observation through microscopic and telescopic techniques have captured a tantalizing similar morphology, to the point that it has often been noted that the cosmic web and the web of neurons look alike.
—FRANCO VAZZA & ALBERTO FELETTI,THE QUANTITATIVE COMPARISON BETWEEN THE NEURONAL NETWORK AND THE COSMIC WEB
7
Chemical Attraction
Second contact (C2): The moment the moon completely covers the sun in a solar eclipse, initiating the beginning of totality.
ORION
Halfway down, I catch hold of the maintenance line, the sudden jolt wrenching my muscles. My hands slip along the rope, friction burning my palms through the heated leather before I secure a firm grip.
I sway in the open air, the metal ring bolted to the exterior of the observatory groaning under my weight. Muscles strained, palms on fire, I glare across at the ladder running along the wall. In hindsight, a muchsaneroption.
“Fuck.”
