In the harsh twilight, he knelt and dug.

In the bottom of the phoenix-grave, he spread the spores that would feed on and support the beginnings 0f all life.

In the sharp, glassy soil, he placed the seeds of a new planet.

In the unmeasured, empty space of an hour, he changed the course of the universe.

In the flat gray expanse of weathered silicates, three thousand potatoes rested.

In the dead methane-carbon dioxide atmosphere, the harsh actinic sun slanted down, undimmed by ozone.

In the cool, moist air of his time machine, he left the dawn of the world, and rejoiced in the acceleration.