The lines inscribed on the command module wall meandered, drifted up and down, broke off abruptly and resumed as if halting for breath. From some angles they appeared meaningless scribbles but looked at correctly they resolved into long strings of transcribed speech. "I saw boiling water spilled on an ants nest, insects by the hundred scattering in chaos …" "It was the last day of November, dead leaves caught in a localized whirlwind, a storm of leaves under a lead gray sky …" "Sometimes I would focus on tiny aspects of larger systems -- loading the dishwasher would become a huge task, surrounded by a maze of options that had to be traversed …" Wilson flicked two switches, part of the Lunar Insertion Burn checklist. Short aluminum stems capped with plastic they clicked satisfyingly under his fingers. Green lights under dull covers came on. Wilson returned to the dark grey on grey streams of writing. There was something comforting about the uninterrupte