Rocket soars up out of the ground; a Saturn V but on a fantastic scale. Vision tracks with it. Follows it up past an aluminum grain silo with Cyrillic markings into an impossibly blue sky. More than one moon. Look around and gold fields of wheat lay over hills that roll into infinity. Children--are they mine?--play with kites. The grain hides them but not the fiber-optics that stretch skyward. Shockwave sweeps the kids away but leaves the grain untouched. I weep for them and turn away and the air takes me. The rocket is a heron with red-tipped wings and eyes that shine like starlight.
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