How do we truly describe loss? When we see Betelgeuse explode, as if attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion ¹ lit the night sky, how will we explain that loss to our children, our grandchildren, to the white-breasted nuthatch, or to the black-capped chickadee? When billionaires spend ten minutes at the edge of space do we cheer and share their exhuberance, or do we pull hammers, saws, and drills out of a tool box and construct guillotines? Should we watch what the birds do when a hurricane creepy crawls up the coast, or do we sit outside weighed down by the drop in barometric pressure? After the storm passes, leaving little damage, we can join the convoys of utility repair trucks back up the coast, or through the mountains and look for electricity to reconnect, for loss to reconnect us to the grid of humanity. Or, we can build those damn guillotines.

¹ Death soliloquy of Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), Blade Runner