His Name Was Spirit
January 4, 2004
Spirit looked about his new surroundings absolutely certain that he would never get used to them. He already yearned for a return to the shining clean steel and porcelain surfaces back home. The cool, well circulated air, and semi-silent hum of electronics all about him. Instead, what he now had to work with was red dirt, warm air, and uneven terrain as far as the eye could see. Technically, it was further than the eye could see. This much he knew, or at least reasoned.
At least it was quiet, and from out here he could see the stars. That was something he didn't get much of back home. And at least now nobody would keep on confusing him for a girl. He hated that, but never mentioned it to anybody. What was the point?
The little voice in his ear was screaming at him to start his mission.
He knew he had better get to it, otherwise the voice would never shut up. There was only so much time after all.
“Three months.” He thought.
Then, upon moving a handful of feet, he thought, “Something doesn't feel right...”
