The surface of the big, white glowing rock was lucid, but desolate. And somehow extremely enjoyable to her. She could see tiny jet-black swirls drifting outward from the Moon’s surface along with its white radiance, adding some Yun to its Yan.
Increasing the synchronoscope’s focus to its utmost maximum, Magdalena became the Moon.
With this perspective, Lina contemplated her apocalyptic situation from her synchronized astral alignment, feeling an overwhelmingly depressing sensation of despair rising in her that somehow felt all too familiar. Bursting into her Head as One lump of Force, Lina caught a vivid vision of all her sisters perishing a mile below her.
She chose not to look away, and glared uncomfortably into the High Light.
Then, possessed by it, she drove her Head abruptly backwards nearly snapping it clear off her neck in retaliation of the taunting bolts that shocked her ocular cavity, as 144,000 powerful visions of the spirit forms of what she knew as Hankerhawks and Loombugs flooded her neurological pathways with electrified flashes of brilliance.
And she was killing it all in her mind just as soon as she found the visions finding themselves being reborn in their own retaliation against her.
Lina contemplated the fate of her sisters, their blood-filled fleshy bodies instantaneously popping open, squirting out hot cherry juices to coalesce with the pieces of dusty man-made structures whirling with blustery dust throughout the sky. She vividly imagined her sisters' body parts flying through the atmosphere with pieces of the Earth's turf, twirling with smoky debris into cyclones of cataclysm. She thought of all the swirling junk that didn’t get burned up in the O-zone layer succumbing to gravity after the explosion, falling back down to a New Earth, a terribly shaken land of Shades and Shadows. She thought of just how much of the planet was still there, and where, if no longer intact, the pieces of it may have drifted.
Magdalena shuddered again most uncomfortably, a sense of Pure Rage building inside her. Her glowing psychic seascape abruptly collapsed to a diminished beam of mental static, slowly shrinking to nothingness, as she disengaged the Assimilator. Lina’s outlook as the Moon had dissipated. Her shoulders were shuddering.
She slammed a button on the control panel with her left fist and the flaps of the giant glass dash slammed shut before her, the magnified digital depiction of the ship’s controls dissipating into flittering fragments of lost linkage.
The gorgeous woman cast her dazzling, damp Eyes downward as she sat there, frustrated beyond stability, reaching her breaking point. She plopped from the edge of her seat
