Bokelskere.no

Can't die without a name. Justinian quickly squashed the treacherous thought. He looked around. What names lay here, at the end of the galaxy? None. There was nothing here but dry stone and gravel, the unliving evolution of the land, the cracks and fissures that were working their way into the skin of a planet far from the baby's home. There was no help out there, only pitiless indifference. Even the bright orange of the cabin now seemed an alien place, drained as it was of all warmth as the freezing air of the planet seeped inside. The baby smiled, and Justinian felt a welling pang of despair that he could seem so happy. His only son, and the child didn't know how little time he had left to live. He needed a name. "Not Leslie," Justinian said. "Never Leslie. But what shall we call you? What would your mummy have wanted?" And then a warm feeling came over him as he remembered his dream. Anya had woken up and spoken to him. She had heard the baby crying through his, Justinian's, sleep. What had she said? "Isn't that Jesse?" Justinian smiled. Jesse. It was an odd name, but he liked it. Jesse.