Far Centaurus

We bent time into space. The trans-atomic engine blinked three times as our spaceship, BRANWREN, accelerated, shot forth, piercing the darkest abyss, hurtling toward far Centaurus. Before she blinked again, we were half-way there, where sounds are sonic eclipses, smells multiply like prime numbers, and sights flare with infrared shock. Tired but exhilarated, committed to the nth degree, we stare fixedly at hundreds of blue-green instrument panels. We leave nothing to chance. We are Star-Voyagers, released from the mass of humans still trapped on a dying planet. Liberated from its heavy gravity, our brains accelerate faster than our ships. We travel across the Milky Way's arc into the Beyond. We are the Angels of a New Creation!