Theodred Matana
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Posted - 2007.12.08 01:30:00 -
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Ahh, yes, mining. It's a very dull job. Someone's got to do it. That's not why I do it. No, I've got other reasons why I keep returning to mining. Watching the beams pierce the surface, scraping away, I lose myself in it. Watching those lasers slowly stripping away layer after layer from the surface. If asteroids were alive, how they would scream.
Feeling each layer peeling off, helpless to stop it. The feeling of utter control, watching these helpless entities be stripped of themselves...
I could watch it all day, watching that. It keeps my mind off of other things, doing similar acts to...other things...
The tiny dust particles that drift across the barren wasteland of space, gently retrieved by the beams, sucked into my ship. Lasers chipping, smashing, gutting, wreaking havoc in their wake. But it settles down into tiny little nicks, gently breaking off, collecting these precious bits to refine and sell. The smell of the burned rock filling my hold, my ship. It makes my mouth water, knowing what it has gone through. If asteroids were alive, oh how they would scream.
Holding those chipped rockes, the space-cold ice, knowing I stripped them off, what power. I feel all-powerful, unstoppable. Knowing that I will come back, knowing how rough and careless I can be. But, there is little fun in using brute force. No, mining is practice. Learning the intricacies of just where to hit the beam, at just the right frequency, with the exact magnitude. Getting it just right, every painstaking detail. Piercing the asteroids just right, getting the exact shape and size that I want. Getting a paper-thin layer of veldspar into my hands, that is triumph. That is victory.
Moving from belt to belt, looking all of these rocks. Rocks and ice. Some days, most days, every day, I wish these were alive. To gently poke and prod and pierce every layer. Strip away gently until all the ore is consumed. Watching the asteroid softly collapse on itself as its gravity brings it together. To reach inside, wrench out its guts, that is what I live for. Knowing they will be there, helpless before my power.
If asteroids were alive, how they would scream. For now, putting the fear into these asteroids, slowly ripping them apart, smelling that fresh smell of burned rock. I find it satisfying, pleasing. But, perhaps, one day, I will move on to smaller, softer creations of this galaxy...
Then again, there's always another lump waiting for me, eagerly awaiting to fear me...
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