Buxur gazed out through the translucent material of the connection tube and watched waves of dust wash against its thin skin. It created the sound of soft rain inside the tube. Outside, the two connected vessels nearly disappeared in the particulate cloud. The ghostly ripple and swirl along the lines of the magnetic shield mesmerized Buxur, fractal details drawing his eyes to a new place each moment. The display was beautiful. From the corner of his eye, Buxur glimpsed movement.

“Enjoying the show?” The voice echoed through the tube. Buxur tore his attention from the display outside to address his counterpart.

“This seems an appropriately spectacular for such an historic event,” Buxur said, moving toward the other figure. They closed the short gap and clasped hands, as humans had for millenia. The other person was nearly a caricature of a human form, most details smoothed out toward an idealized human mean. “Our peoples have been apart too long, Ambassador Housut. It is our moral duty to weld our disparate branches of humanity together once more.”

Outside, the cloud of hydrogen and dust swirled together, mixing endlessly. Particles collided, bounced, and when they struck at just the right angle and force, combined.

 

Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction.

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