I drive home under a sky full of stars that are not my responsibility. But Mod Four is still awake. It always is.
The screen hummed a low, ancient hymn. Forty-two blips of light, each a capsule of human panic and hope, drifted across the green cathode-ray glow. I was the god of this tiny, flickering universe. i am an air traffic controller 4 mods
Tonight, the screen is clear. The last blip lands. I unplug my headset. The four mods fold themselves back into the dark corners of my skull. I drive home under a sky full of