Something went wrong.

The voices on the comms-link were scrubbed out by static like a picture scribbled away by a child’s crayon-wielding hand.

“Your circuit’s dead …”

His spaceship took him away; far away from a crazed earth.

“Tell my wife …”

Orbit widened.

He was a seed in the fruit of the metal can floating in the void, hoping for purchase.

In one version of the world far away and long ago, they called him Major Tom as if they knew him; a man permanently situated behind rows of microphones bearing the logos of innumerable television and radio networks…

Rob Jones

A writer and music fan in British Columbia

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store