Tides have long been recognized throughout human history; our ancestral ties with the primordial oceans of Earth have endowed us with a distinct awareness of tidal influences: the pull of a primary sun and any number of natural satellites upon us. The human body, like the ocean from which we were spawned, is subject to the influence of tides. Everything from moods to reproductive cycles is locked into a rhythm of tides. Earth is no longer the only world on which humans now dwell. The species claims more than a dozen stars as its own: more than three dozen planetary and planet-satellite bodies host human communities. Of the three-dozen human inhabited worlds only a few remain as colonies of Earth. The Centarēs Cluster (now independent for over 200 years) boasts three colonies of its own. Though Earth is no longer the exists as the absolute core of human attention, certain dependencies remain. Humans thrive in tidal environments, thus every world on which humans dwell is a world with no more than two moons, and no fewer than one. On worlds such as Krieg, human habitation occurs on the larger of two satellite-moons orbiting the super-terrestrial planet Mendas. Krieg, the larger of the moons, possesses an iron core, magnetic fields, and other environmental coincidentals necessary for the maintenance of human life. Though Mendas looms large in the skies of Krieg, Krieg itself is the second of the planet’s two moons. It is sufficiently far away to avoid tidal-locking. It rotates on its axis, and the gravitational pull of Mendas, the primary sun (Beta Peronne), and the companion moon, Mote, all contribute to the exotic, complicated dance of Krieg’s tides. The most stunning display of tide activity on Krieg can be seen well within the seacoast city of Andren. During low tide, Andren stands on a sand-capped mesa. During high tide, Andren stands on its own island. There are no roads to Andren, only oceanic transit routs and air-routes, and—for more than 75 years—Andren has been home to a booming industry centered solely on tidal tourism. Andren at high tide is one of the more cherished spectacles within the scattered worlds of the interstellar human community. Andren, at high tide (on those nights when both companions are visible in the sky) has attracted poets and romantics from across human-occupied space, and with such views as Andren offers, one may rest assured that tourists will continue to flock to the half-time shores of Andren and mark themselves, proudly, as tidal tourists upon their various home-worlds: planets in possession of their own wonders, no doubt, but not the acrobatic oceans boasted by Krieg. —an excerpt from: Twelve Spectacles: a Tourist’s Guide to Deep Space * * * This is actually a spring season night shot, taken at around the time I took my computer in for emergency resuscitation and brain replacement. Summer’s horrendous warmth hadn’t yet arrived and things were mellow along the Rogers Park shores of Lake Michigan. As I walked (with Corey) along a stretch of beach, I noticed Chicago-light in the distance, and incredible darkness over the lake. I snapped a photograph. I liked the light, but the darkness was—quite simply—lacking. And so I added a little something. The “super-terrestrial” planet looming on the horizon is actually derived from a photograph of 1980s-era carpet. The smaller moon is derived from a photo of concrete, and the nebular clouds are...well...messed-with photographs of more water-vaporish clouds. The stars are the only non-photographic additions to this image. As always, thank you for viewing, reading, and commenting, and I hope you’re all having a great week.