Sisyphus piloted the underworld ship.
“How many times have I orbited that sun?” he said.
Passengers nestled in the ship’s tessellated compartments. Sisyphus wanted to talk to them but couldn’t. He had a ship to pilot.
His sun went supernova and the one after it, too. The universe expanded, then contracted to nothing, only to be reborn from the same star stuff.
Sisyphus watched it all.
Some time later, new suns formed.
That was all fine, but he hoped the passengers didn’t mind.
He settled into an elliptical around a quiet sun.
“How many times have I orbited that sun?”
Beth Goder works as an archivist, processing the papers of economists, scientists, and other interesting folks. Her fiction has appeared in venues such as Escape Pod, Analog, Clarkesworld, Nature, and The Year’s Best Science Fiction & Fantasy. You can find her online at http://www.bethgoder.com.
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