Five moons, grey frozen rocks, no feet, merely a giant caterpillar…

What have I become, I who dreamed of Space, little boy full of fantasies?

Here’s the truth: Space is the Company, at the Frontier, mining, transformed, no longer a sentient being, but a machine.

The Company is good: at least I – the caterpillar – think so, otherwise what would I be doing here?

It is just a little lonely, here, on this rock, on my own, and sometime I feel I am missing something, someone?