Desolation, maybe. I don’t know if that’s the word right now, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. I think of 2300 and the obliterated landscape. I think of the exile Belthasar dying alone besides his just-completed time machine.

There are the fast approaching tomorrows, and the more distant tomorrows, and I just stare at the neverending avalanche of time coming my way. What can I do except get swept away and crushed?

I don’t know what else to do but to bury my head under the covers and sleep.