image via Jacob Marchio on Flickr
The night of the 5th of July, a group of strangers leaded by an astronomist jumped on a mini bus and drove to the farest mountain in the farest little town. The town, inhabited by only six hundred people during the winter, was now slowly reviving due to the families returning to spend the summer in their old family houses. Generation after generation had spent their summers in a humble town, away from the polution and chaos of the city, and now was growing accustomed to the sporadic arrival of rural tourists.
The group of strangers on a mini bus arrived at almost 8pm, when the sun was already setting and the heat was slowly receeding. The astronomist announced that he would go up the mountain and would prepare the three telescopes he had brought for them to look at the constellations. The rest of the group would hike up the hill in an attempt to remain forever young. “This is so healthy”, murmured a panting woman as she quickly climbed the mountain. For some reason, it was hard to believe her, as her face was now an unbecoming shade of purple. It was like a pilgrimage to the God’s den, a penitent route for the humans to remind them about their mortality. The hour they would spend walking and panting would help to make them realize how minuscule they were in comparison with the entire universe.
The astronomist was a gray-haired man with a nervous twitch. He was young, maybe in his thirties or early forties, but his pale wrinkled skin made him look a lot older. He drove a white car and wore a blue jacket. Gray, white and blue, like the universe.
The group of seventeen strangers that rode in a mini bus reached the top and wondered about the meaning of life. They ate supper and readily gathered around the astronomist, who started to point up to the sky and explained the constellations. Afterwards, it was time to look through the telescopes. First, they saw the Moon, in a bright yellow, full of craters and terribly big. Then, the astronomist introduced them to Saturn. Not every stranger understood what he was saying, but a few of them were able to see a mini white spot surrounded by a white ring. If they squinted, Saturn took full form, far far away, little yet big. One of the strangers got goosebumps thinking of her own insignificancy. Saturn, which was 120,536 km wide, was now reduced to barely a centimeter wide through the lens of the telescope. The average height of the strangers was 1,70m. They definitely were ridiculously tiny human forms full of organs, blood and overthinking.
At the end of the night, the group of seventeen strangers that rode in a mini bus realized that they, like every other living form of the universe, were merely tiny bacteria in a huge pattern of an unknown framework.