we to the gods

“As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.” –Blinded Gloucester in KING LEAR by William Shakespeare

he is naked in a huge sphere in interstellar space and cannot remember how he got here

the sphere is transparent and he floats near its center gently pushed hither and yon by a cool breeze

there is a galaxy nearby but no star near enough to be a local sun

he drowses and sleeps and when he wakes he sees another sphere quite close

it is blue but for a tiny human figure floating near its center

he realizes his sphere must be blue too

gently the spheres draw close and when they touch there is an anticlimactic clacking sound

the figure within the other sphere floats toward him and he wonders if it is their personal gravities pulling them together

she is female and would be far too young for him except he sees that the body he is in is no longer old is somehow many years younger than it had been

both of them instinctively put out their hands when they arrive at the touching place and their palms are mere intimate inches apart

her softly swaying hair and enticing shape arouse him and he blushes and pushes away

“children,” says a voice, “i plucked you from your planet after learning something about it, and about you.

“you are perfectly suited to each other. you never would have met but for me. and i have made of you a work of art.

“but do not rejoice. the theme of this art show is Futility. and the title of my piece is Pale Blue Balls.”

with that, the spheres dissolved, and the air within them as well…

…

but before the two could die of decompression, they woke in their separate home-planet homes, thousands of miles apart, their bodies as they were, with the grim knowledge that they would never meet in real life…

…

unless they defied Reality Itself.