30 December 2009
He set out early though, mindful that the conditions were not ideal, and indeed the journey there was slow, a bit slower even than he had anticipated as the pod coped with slipping against and dragging along the surface, intermittently abrasive and ice smooth. He was soothed on the journey with music provided by the transfer pod, soaring and ascendant, swooping music to fill his thoughts and keep them from drifting to the impending Crossing, although as the journey wore on he began to imagine the others travelling on parallel or converging routes. The unsettling image popped in his mind; of pliant dexterous tentacles reaching out and pulling pods and people towards a central maw. "Music, music, lift me away from the scurryings of my under-mind," he prayed.