Can On A Hot Tan Cat

Some time ago, entranced:

“When I die I want my ashes to be launched out into outer space in this tin can. And no, not from some ill-conceived potato launcher out behind the house; I’m talking up in a spaceship, the whole shebang. Don’t worry it’ll be pretty common by then and I got $800 in the can now in case that sort of thing is expensive in the future. I guess you could still use a potato launcher but make sure you fire ‘em out into the nothingness.

"I imagine by that time I’ll be in some sort of “other” place, a nothing world of sorts. I’ll be walking through a series of tunnels. It’s not a narrow space, you know I’m claustrophobic, but bigger spaces with corridors running off in different directions. And it’s not some dark, spooky cave either. The walls, ceilings and floors are all made from this icy blue material and they all have such similar, swirling visual textures so that it’s hard to get any depth perception at all, which makes wandering through the tunnels pretty tough. The surfaces are smooth and carved out; nothing’s really square. They’re smooth, but not hard like they look. I never hurt myself bumping into a wall, but that could either be because they are soft, or because I never bump into anything ever. It is heaven after all. I’m looking for the Control Room, but this almost seems like a maze. I see the same room for the second time and try to make marks on the wall like Hansel and Gretel to find my way. But I have nothing on me to mark the walls. All I’m wearing is a white linen suit, with nothing in any of the pockets. I don’t even have a cell phone.

"But it’s not like a dream. This isn’t aimless searching. And I know why I want to get to the Control Room. That’s how I know it isn’t a dream. You know I love math and science and I know they have the world’s biggest, most powerful computer in the Control Room. Once I’m there, I can track the flight of my tin can through space and determine how far it will fly before it hits an asteroid or alien ship or Jupiter and explodes.

"And that’s all I really need as I travel to the next station. Just the pure mathematical pleasure of knowing the exact trajectory of an inanimate object through space. It’s beautiful and simple. As beautiful as peace.”

Peace out,

Alberto J. Alburquerque