“At its heart, writing is all about the transmission and storage of information.”
The kozmonaut was prepared for departure. Even though he was just a few months old, he still felt a delicate sense of lament leaving for his mission into the greater Vostock. His planet was silent in the pre-dawn. The occasion was not momentous or celebrated, which he did not find strange. The rocket functioned precisely as it should have.
After he had escaped the atmosphere of Grutin, entering the cold storage of space, the kozmonaut and his rocket could no longer be seen. No evidence of existence. As though kozmonaut and kraft had never been there at all.
Before he disappeared he sent his: