Hologram In Fog

Tales of the Spaceways

by snakeappletree

Hologram In Fog

It is snowing outside her place. Cold, old stone buildings had always seemed a barrier to her from the living street, network heart of the city. Space above her head, even frozen icy air such as tonight's autumn-into-winter season. Snow dampened the smog and so she had her breather open at the mouth, her breath blending with the mist surrounding her through which dark strangers loomed in the shape of medieval architecture. 

Holograms flash-fused into the moisture. She felt it, shockwaves flowing through her senses much as the tiny particulate water carried its own currents through the air, connecting with her emotions. She flowed on it, a muted feeling where she was at once comforted and alarmed by crisp coldness and ultimate mutability, softening and sharpening her senses in ways she was not used to. 

Her lifestyle, dry, heated, digital, eyes bedazzled by very focussed light streams, entering her brain, overiding hypnotically her senses, her emotions flowing with this, reptilian, mathematical grids holding her brains water content to crystaline helix, changing her, developing synapses to make connections never made before several generations of human computer users. 

Being older she still preferred the flatscreen to the holo-displays. Here in the mist, they took on their own element, a moment perfected, in balance, a harmony of nature and technology. 

She sighed. 

Temperature dropping rapidly; need to be shut in with a ceiling overhead and heaters, increasing.

This is planet Earth, she reminded herself. Exotic and overpowering. Of all the places she had visited, returning to her home town on her home world was perhaps the most alien and wonderful experience of them all. 

Postscript

I don't really know why this is a part of TotSW. 

It just, is. 

Writing about the venomous vapours of Venus, storm winds of Neptune and the Dragonsmoke of Deimos, seems less romantic. Earth is gentle. Even when she is killing us; and perhaps then at her most exquisite.

©2015 snakeappletree