With every pounding heartbeat as the landscape was illuminated for a brief flash they saw their captain’s silhouette in the glow. He did not look back. His eyes were wet and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he raised his hands to his bubble-helmet. Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar! His voice cracked. Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar! He did not expect to become the holiest man of his time but he did, largely by default. As his cry on the solar system’s outer rim blared home to a broken, hunched-over umma he remembered his father’s adhan blaring from the minarets of Masjid ’Alamin, Now he, too, was a muezzin. Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar. La ilaha ilia Allah. Then all was still on cold Pluto, while in considerably sunnier Pakistan believers made their wudhu. —Abu Afak, Twenty-Four Septendecillion Buffalo winter. Snow came so constant it never had a chance to get dirty. Came down light and harmless but added up on the ground. Covered the roads and made your car’s rear tires swing a different direction than the front.
