Outpost

‘Mayday, mayday. This is Kasker Rampart. Can anyone hear me, over?’

No reply.

‘Mayday, mayday. This is Jane Blanc aboard Con Amalgam refinery Kasker Rampart. Is anyone out there?’

Ghost

Midnight at the top of the world. Darkness. Lethal cold.

The Aurora Borealis. A flickering ion stream washes across the polar sky. Iridescent colour. Dancing emerald fire.

Rajesh Ghosh sits at the centre of the snow plain. A speck in vast white nothing. He is the last human north of the Arctic Circle now that cities lie in ruin, mankind has been swept away, and a strange new intelligence rules the earth.

He kneels on the ice, hands in his lap. He has taken off his coat and gloves. He sits in T-shirt and shorts. He will never move again.

His flesh has hardened to rock. His skin is frosted with snow crystals. His eyes have turned to glass. He is looking up. A white statue, smiling at the stars.