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“On the other side of Absurdity, there’s Surdity.” — someone

Ingress into Z-Space complete, Major Knight throttles back the eggplant-shaped rocketship’s Fold Engine.

He steers the rocketship, his hands at the ten-n-ten, his mind also there, yet not.

Recently, Dulcinea had announced “Astronauting is hard” over a tall cold glass of Cervantes, the two of them embracing under a mauve sky on a planet far from him now and on a night that, for the two of them, seemingly launched a thousand rockets (or more!) in a non-belligerent kind of way.

And now he, cognizant that the stars look alive, thinks unwittingly of those windmill-shaped cookies.

He ate them as a boy, tilting the cookie with each bite. One might say tilting the Universe.

Until tilting no more. (viz., the cookie was devoured, no longer filling space normal.)

Or so the Major’s contemplation (which is both topical and unelegant (as opposed to inelegant)) goes.

And that’s all a lonely Star Pilot might ask.