It’s always about space with me, ultimately.
I was in space. Well, I wasn’t really in space, I was very much on earth. My brain was in a jar in some hospital somewhere, and my body was six feed under in some cemetery somewhere. But my senses were all plugged into a geostationary satellite twenty-two thousand miles above the Atlantic Ocean.
“Wow,” Saint Peter said.
“Wow, indeed,” I said, “I’ve been here eleventh jillion times, it always takes my virtual breath away.”
“I always wanted to be an astronaut,” he said, “Back when there were astronauts.”