Bradbury Fixed — Kaleidoscope Ray

“…can’t be just me. Anyone? Tom? Les?”

“I see my son,” said another voice. Les. The youngest. His tether had snapped an hour ago, and now he was cartwheeling toward the sun. “He’s six. He’s building a rocket out of cardboard. I’m inside it. We’re laughing.” kaleidoscope ray bradbury

Stone. The navigator. The man who had once charted Earth’s constellations from a planetarium dome, drunk on wonder. Now he was a smudge of glass and bone inside his own helmet, his visor webbed with fractures. Through the cracks, his face looked like a broken mosaic. “…can’t be just me