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Swirling Paints

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“It’s like…” Hera trailed off, mentally sorting through the colors her crewmates could see. “Like what you’d call ‘dark blue’, only with more extension on the zed plane. And a splash of orange on the y, but with more third degree yellow. And it’s cold.”

 

“That’s what the radio waves look like?” Eiffel asked.

 

“Sort of. Your vision is very limited.” Hera paused. “Do you ever miss them?”

 

“The colors? I don’t know if I could miss them, even if I tried to.” He sighed. “It’s like-- you’ve never watched the masterpiece that is Star Wars. Or, like, anything. And I could sit here, and tell you the plot and everything, but it wouldn’t be the same, y’know? And it’s not like you miss it.”

 

“I-- yeah, I guess that makes sense.” she sighed, something she’d picked up from her crewmates.

 

“What do the gravitational fluxes look like?” he asked.

 

Hera considered it. “Almost like… if you took what you call brown, and deconstruct it until only a few shades remain, then overlap it with light red, and mix it with a hundred degrees. But it still looks cool. Almost all the waves do.”

 

“I’d like to see them some day.” Eiffel said. He glanced out the window, the red light of the star casting an odd glow on his face. “The colors sound nicer then this ugly red.”

 

“Oh, sure, let me fix that for you,” Hera joked, “How about a nice, cool blue?”

 

Eiffel hummed in agreement. “If only.”