As Commander Gordon guided the little craft between the Scylla of the polar vortices and the Charybdis of the equatorial winds, we were dazzled by our first view of the landing site . . .
From the module's tiny window we saw strange shapes in the methane ice that covered the surface . . .
Canals? Surely this was the work of intelligent beings! As we descended to the surface, a brilliant light flashed in the middle of the main canal . . . a welcome? Or a warning?
Time would tell. . .
This is where my mind goes when I'm sitting in the car looking at the melting frost in the corner of the windshield . . .
