The following is an excerpt from Stars and Stripes, an article written by Umberto Eco.

ASTROGRAM
FROM: HIGH COMMAND
TO: QUARTERMASTER HQ
BETELGUESE

SHOCKED BY IRREGULAR VARIETY RATIONS AND ALARMED BY EXCESSIVE CULINARY PERMISSIVENESS UNDERMINING TRADITIONS AND DISCIPLINE OUR GLORIOUS ARMY STOP AS OF TODAY ALL VICTUALS MUST CONFORM TO STANDARD FORMAT FOR ALL TROOPS FEDERATED GALAXIES NAMELY FIVE HECTOGRAMS HARD-TACK ONE TIN FROZEN MEAT FOUR CHOCOLATE BARS OPNE DECILITER GRAPPA STOP

(SIGNED) GENERAL GIANSAVERIO REBAUDENGO

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ASTROGRAM
FROM: QUARTERMASTER HQ
BETELGUESE
TO: HIGH COMMAND
CASINO

RESPECTFULLY REMIND HIGH COMMAND BIOLOGICAL DIVERGENCES AMONG VARIOUS UNITS INTERGALACTIC ARMY STOP FOR EXAMPLE ALTAIR SOLDIERS CUSTOMARY DAILY CONSUMPTION THREE HUNDRED SIXTY KILOGRAMS ALTAIR GNU MEAT STOP AURIGA LIQUID SAPPERS COMPOSED EXCLUSIBELY OF ETHYL ALCOHOLS HENCE GRAPPA RATION OFFENSIVE TO THEM SUGGESTING CANNIBALISM STOP HOOKS MILITIA OF BELLATRIX CONFIRMED VEGETARIANS WHEREAS CHASSEURS FROM COMA BERENICES NORMALLY FEED ON LOCAL HAIRLESS BIPED GAME HENCE SOME DEPLORABLE MISUNDERSTANDINGS WHEN CHASSEURS DEVOURED ENTIRE BATTALION MOUNTAIN TROOPS MISTAKING THEM FOR RATIONS SHIPMENT STOP IN THIS REGARD WE WOULD AGAIN UNDERLINE IMPOSSIBILITY OF STANDARDIZING UNIFORMS AS PER HIGH COMMAND ORDER STOP IMPOSSIBE FIT STANDARD TUNIC AND LEGGINGS TO SOLDIERS EIGHT METRES TALL WITH FIVE ARMS WHEREAS STANDARD ISSUE TROUSERS TOTALLY UNSUITABLE FOR VERMIFORM TROOPS STOP URGE PROMPT DECISION RECOMMENDING FLEXIBILITY RECOGNIZING VARYING BIOLOGICAL DEMANDS STOP

(SIGNED) GENERAL PERCUOCO

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ASTROGRAM
FROM: HIGH COMMAND, CASINO
TO: GENERAL PERCUOCO
QUARTERMASTER HQ
BETELGEUSE

QUIT BELLYACHING STOP

(SIGNED) GENERAL GIANSAVERIO REBAUDENGO

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The bullet worth $200

Foxhole supported. Figure 11. Last magazine of the day, three rounds in it. I needed all three rounds to hit to get my 22nd hit (out of a possible 28) which would entitle me to $200.

I went down into the foxhole gingerly because it was dark. I took some time adjusting the sand bags. I told myself to calm down. I calmed down. With my ear plugs deep in my ears the only thing I could hear was my own breathing - and it was a nice moment because the breathing affirmed my own individuality which was, by way of sight and sound, disconnected from the outside world. It was just me, the figure 11, and my three rounds.

I pressed hard against the side of the foxhole. I gripped the barrel and pistol grip tightly, pressed the rifle against my shoulder. The target came up. I took 2 seconds to aim and fired off. A hit. The target board went down and up again. I steadied myself. I aimed the rifle to the exact same spot as the previous, but my vision was starting to blur so I squeezed off under my intuition's command. 2nd hit.

Last one. I felt a wave of elation at this point because just 1 more shot separated me from $200. I told myself to calm down. I calmed down. I took aim. I didn't take careful aim because I didn't really calm down. I fell back on intuition again and this time it failed me. I missed. I looked up at the target board. It didn't go down.

At this point I would like to elaborate on how I felt. I felt normal. I felt calm. And this was because I had anticipated the situation. Before the firing I had envisioned the exact same sequence of events as the one above. I entertained thoughts of missing on the 1st, 2nd or 3rd shot. I entertained thoughts of a weopon failure. I entertained many thoughts, and in them I pictured the disapointment and frustration I would feel if these possibilities became real. In this sense you could say that my emotional self went ahead of the present to feel what it could feel in the future, so that when the future came I felt nothing at all.

Well. These things happen huh. Don't know about you but I'm used to this so-near-yet-s0-far thing already, to the extent where sometimes I don't even bother if I'm close or far from the destination which more often than not exists only in our hopes and expectations.

Sunshine

I like Sunshine. I like Sunshine a lot.

Imagine yourself in their shoes. Imagine hurling yourself 20metres through absolute zero space. Imagine being the Captain, engulfed by the sun's rays. Imagine being the 2nd-in-command fellow who didn't make the jump - and there you go, your body, which is not encased in an astronaut suit, freezing up and drifting out into space. But at least they caught a glimpse of space before they died - how many of us would?