Contributor: Zenn Wu

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The box has been opened, the contents released, set loose to summon a future fashioned from the bones of a long slavery.

The fallout of a storm carried by nuclear fire is bright, makes the night fit for hunting easy prey. High price, high rewards, the jewels of life less fit than I. So sweet, this summer, this time, this sun. A new age, an age of freedom, the fallen shackles, broken, discarded. How many sons? How many suns? Pack the sand. Take the blades of obsidian from toughened hide and use them to slice ripe fruit from desert succulents.

The green comes soon. The dawn. The light. The signs ring clear and true, tell of trusting. Nothing left to lose. All to gain.


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