Neon bolts of lightening interrupted the blackened sky. It would begin with a trip to the moon. It would end with a visit to the event horizon.
Dumbfounded, her partners insisted she was insane. A suicide mission, they said.
Suicide, she countered, is the act of voluntarily, intentionally taking one's own life. This wasn't suicide. This was an excavation of the soul.
This was the breaking down of a human shell into all of its energetic particles. This was a homecoming mission.
No one believed her, of course. Science has a funny way of simultaneously expanding and halting the brain. Her path had been set in place long ago and the return to darkness was her destiny.
What will happen on the other side? Her partners questions were constant. Their concern palpable.
She stared at the two. Were they capable of seeing beyond their skepticism, they would notice the mini cosmos in her eyes.
There is another world, she told them. Here, inside of this one. It is breathing and expanding and waiting for us to take the plunge.
You may not see me tomorrow, but you will see me again.