LUNATIX

This guy has a name, according to the info that I feel being downloaded to my mind, through his open eyes.

AQL12 is his name (with a number in it) and I wish to know why. But I don’t get answers to this kind of questions. Reminds me of codenames given to the Aggregat series of rockets designed by Wernher von Braun. Some hot heads took the ‘A’ for ‘Amerika’ while the dreamers only wanted to aggregate the elements for an orbital carrier. They wished for the stars. Not back to the ground.

Aquila.

Since I’m so sold into codenames, his eyes agree for me to call him Aquila. Ugh, that was easy.

Aquila is thirty-six meters high, blue blood was pumping through his veins so many eons ago that I cannot count. A long exponential pops up but I’d rather ignore it.

Are you dead? Asks my mind.

Do not understand: what is dead?

Dead is when you are not alive.

I am not.

So you must be dead.

Do I look dead to you?

No.

See...

But you are...

I am out in your life. Responds Aquila.

With abandon, my mind sniffs the endless meadows. Punctured by majestic trees. Cannot fathom the genus. Every tree looks different, yet all the leaves have the same form. Never seen this kind. Not in the Alps or Carpathians, nor in Tibet.

A golden syrup drips sparsely along the trunks. Pressing my pointer with curiosity, feeling the sticky liquid, I taste it.

Wish to describe the savour in words. Instead I learn that Aquila is me. Or I am Aquila. Was. Where?

PSR B1913+16

Mein Gott! I was bigger and smarter in my prior life. Clearly.

Cannot make the slightest sense out of the digits and codes that Aquila rains on me. Where are we now?

Mond.