A 2-post collection

Challenge #02081-E257: Young Game, Old Players

The thing most deserving of both respect and fear in equally large amounts is an old man in a place where they often die young. -- Anon Guest

Oort Herding is a game for the young. The ability to weave through free-floating bodies in the depths of absolute darkness, to spot a dirty snowball before the Hungry Caterpillar does, to do the necessary gravitational kicks to cometary objects and get out of the way in the correct direction, all needs fast reflexes and quick minds.

Or, if you ask some, strategy.

They tell legends about him. The only old Oort Herder in Galactic Space. Most of the others call him 'Grampa', but they do so with ingrained respect. Because they know. They know how slow reflexes and moments of inattention can cause the regular early retirement or the euphemistic kind where they're lucky to have some remains interred somewhere. For someone to work as an Oort Herder into their forties, into their fifties... Grampa had to have an edge over anyone else who had to quit the occupation.

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Dawn breaks...

Not literally. No. This is a metaphorical dawn. A dawn in the mind.

Followers of my ramblings - the ones who aren’t bots - will know I recently discovered the anti-joy of having a spur in my heel.

It’s painful to walk, most of the time. So I have gained a new appreciation of being able to walk without pain.

And last night… I cooked a meal for the first time in four fargnaxing weeks.

It was

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