Death of the Sun
So, it is 2:45 in the afternoon. And the sun is starting to set.
It about minus 30. As I look out the window of Jeremy's office on the seventh floor I can see much of the southern half of the city, and every building has a steaming plume coming up out of
the roof, evidence of the heating system hard at work. So much energy gets burned away each day, keeping the inside of all the office buildings, commercial spaces, not to mention homes, warm and livable. Because you can't live very long at these temperatures without a lot of aritifical heat.
As I look out it is bright. The sun is white, the sky is mainly clear. The sun goes down early and it gets distorted and big as it gets near the hazy skyline. Oh, then it tilts into the wispish and curling landscape, losing its invulnerability to the cold; falling, and giving out a scattered and reddish light in a longish, lingering death.
It about minus 30. As I look out the window of Jeremy's office on the seventh floor I can see much of the southern half of the city, and every building has a steaming plume coming up out of
the roof, evidence of the heating system hard at work. So much energy gets burned away each day, keeping the inside of all the office buildings, commercial spaces, not to mention homes, warm and livable. Because you can't live very long at these temperatures without a lot of aritifical heat.
As I look out it is bright. The sun is white, the sky is mainly clear. The sun goes down early and it gets distorted and big as it gets near the hazy skyline. Oh, then it tilts into the wispish and curling landscape, losing its invulnerability to the cold; falling, and giving out a scattered and reddish light in a longish, lingering death.
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