Q. Under The Thumb

That thumb was trillions of times their size. Lucille rubbed the Galaxy Zephyr’s hands along its sternum. “Hakase, if you’ve got a last-minute scheme, now’s the time.”

“I know, I know.” Professor Akayama squirmed her bird-like body in Zephyr-Alpha-Purple. “I’m merging with our Hurricane Armor.”

“You just got here,” said Daisuke. “You can’t leave now!”

“I’ll leave a wireless puppet in my stead.” When Akayama opened ZAP’s hatch, her body split into two. One piece merged with the Galaxy Zephyr’s Hurricane Armor. The other piece was a three-foot tall bird-pilot, which sat squarely in ZAP’s chair. It called to Lucille: “buy time.”

“I trust you, bird-thing.” Lucille moved ZAB’s monitors and pressed buttons to display the leader of her computer specialists. “Release our secret weapon.”

O1 Commentary: Immortality

Immortality is a mixed bag. On one hand, you get to live forever. On the other hand, you have to live forever. You’ll see the rise and fall of civilizations, but long before then, all your friends will die. You’ll watch the landscape wrinkle into mountains, but eventually the sun will explode and you’ll be stuck in it. 

In fiction, immortality is often like a genie’s wish: you wish for immortality but eventually you wish you could wish to die.