MANKIND'S HOSTAGE

“Is there anything to actually see in Toledo?” Ohio, that was to say.

“Nothing to write home about. Well, there was one weird thing I’ve never stopped thinking about in one of the Metroparks. Can’t remember which one. There was a hut that looked like a warming house or a restroom, but it just led to a stairwell. And if you went down it, there was a display of, well, just a huge stone sphere, surrounded by concrete walls. It was apparently a replica of Saturn’s moon Iapetus. Except, according to the plaque, it was an actual chunk of that moon, that the sculptor claims to have then molded into a perfect simulacrum.”

“When would that have happened? I can’t think of a mission that retrieved anything from Saturn or near it, let alone that sizable.”

“I mean, yeah. A lot of people think it’s a forgery for obvious reasons. But there’s rumors about it coming from a secret space program, and a few geologists from UBC sampled it. The radiation levels and the composition of the stone do seem to be roughly what they would have expected from the real thing. Here, let me show you. I took a few pictures.” She pulled the black slate of her phone from her purse, and stared intently. “Right. The artist called it ‘Mankind’s Hostage.’”

I focused on her screen, trying to ignore the constant notifications. The sculpture seemed to be imprisoned and lonely; at least two tons of gray against gray, surrounded by red velvet ropes on stanchions. There was a large, charred blotch across its southern hemisphere, as though some cosmic cigar had been put out on its surface. It was clearly made with great reverence, every telescopic inch of detail carefully considered. However, a number of graffiti artists had clearly since defiled it with bands of liquid neon squiggles. She then flipped her thumb, still looking over my shoulder, changing the visible image to the description plaque.

“Mankind’s Hostage

Here is a microcosm of one of Saturn’s great shepherds, torn from the old Titan’s grasp, and named, in mockery, for the one who was imprisoned with him. Let this small bargaining resource aid man, someday, to take back what we can from the old timekeeper. Please break and torture this work of art as needed. I have also had a sword forged from the sample’s iron, to be used only in response to apocalyptic conditions. Inquire with my estate as to its location, should the heavens bear their judgment so severely that it is needed. As always: as above, so below! —Your Eternal Friend”

She took her phone back, even though there were clearly more photos. “If you get up close to it, you can see spots where people have carved wishes and curses into the stone, or even just written on it in pen. Everything from bathroom wall humor to serious death threats. Prayers and spells, too. Nobody admits to doing it, so it’s hard to say whether or not it works.”

“And did you get a chance to write on it?”

“Let's just say I'm still waiting for it to happen.”