In memory of Arthur C. Clarke (The Sentinel)
Space was unforgiving, and you had waited such a long time, in the absolute solitude of the desolated moon.
But now you are awaking, at your feet the small ants look up at you in awe, at the unstoppable thrust, at the slowly revealed mystery.
Rocks fall around you, and you are still, just the apex of this marvel:
A billion year-old artificial satellite.