There sits the dad, alpha of the multitude of 4. He rocks on a chair, reading tomorrow's news in today's paper. He wears golden glasses, glistening under the sun, basking in the perky morning heat. The dog sleeps beside, an invisible hand over him, unamused by the monotony of the day. Yet he waits, casually curious, for something, a hare or a squirrel to wear him out for the day. A shady figure appears onto the porch. An increase in magnification reveals the mom, setting the table for midday breakfast. The electrical whirring of the observatory is but a faint and distant echo, now that I've had time to settle in. It's been over 2 sun cycles, but the observations continue. The mind stacks and dismiss the dronish soundscapes of this establishment, on this barren satellite, over time, till it's all but everything you hear. It gets lonely here, but at least I have infallible company. The dad arrives tardily. He has a good appetite, but never talks while eating, for fear of strangling. His mind has been occupied a lot as of late. Lurching and squelching forward, back, forward again, on memories of past, almost slipping out of his own groove, somehow ending up sucked into his own slipstream.