This is Jimmy, full of blood.

They are all the same. The places, that is. The days are too, but the places are the same.

It is cold on the surface, now. This was a rainforest once. I walked here with cool water on my skin. If it was raining now, the ground would be full of water.

I dissolve my limbs, building a hard, rough, cylindrical shell for myself. My tiny teeth draw the soil around and behind me. The going is smooth for a while, sound waves echoing the cozy stones. Then comes the bedrock, and I am still on beacon. The signal is still weak. There is no way that is a good thing.

Planets are large things, but I'm patient. What can I say? It's not going anywhere. I think I've been doing this a long time, whatever it is I'm doing. I know it's getting warm here, the rocks are a little softer. I can detect temperature, too, but just as a number. I am an eye of stone.

So this is magma. It's like swimming. I think I'm making better time now. It's thicker than water and I swim stronger than fish.

I have had to reform my body to cope with the pressure. Currents of glowing silicon push me across a sea of nickel and iron. I spread myself across the airlock, drawing in heavy elements and building complex molecules. I build a blister and sing a gamma ray harmony to the beacon. The sphincter opens, and I extrude myself out of the blister into the entry bay.

A few seconds to form rudimentary limbs from the smoking matter I brought with me.




Oh god, I am.

Where am I? Whatever I'm looking for, it surely can't be here.

"I'm back," I say. Clearly.

"Clearly," she says.

You can't see a man die hundreds of times and not think him immortal

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