A cloudless summer sunset was flooding the world in orange, and already the fireflies were hovering above the porch, flying at half-speed and blinking lazily to each other. The water going into the coffee maker looked like molten metal in the light flowing in through the opened terrace door. Even though 2040 had come and gone, she felt somewhat like a housewife in a picture dreamed up in the 1950's.
     "So. Tell me." He stood outside, leaned against a colonnade vertical beam, looking like a young god in the backlight, in spite of unkempt hair and a few days of stubble. "What did you see out there? How did it change you?"
She pushed FUSIONBrew^TM and turned to look at him.
     "Wade. You know everyone asks that question. It's tagged as a motivationally bad one, since it either makes us feel we have to boil our experiences down to a few, manageable words, or realize we didn't really see anything that changed us worth telling anyone about, at which point of clarity space might not seem to be everything it's made out as, after all."
     "Hells bells. Sorry for asking."
She poured up two cups of coffee and walked out on the porch. Wade took a seat in one of the old-fashioned deck chairs lined up against the wall.
     "So," he said, and accepted his cup.
     "So?" She sat down as well.
     "So. Let's have what 'everyone' gets to hear."
     "How about something everyone on my side is bound to notice instead? It's an eye opener."
     "Did you notice it?"
     "Of course."
     "I'll go with that."
She held her cup up, but didn't sip. There was a full, clean aroma of the brewed coffee in the evening air.
     "It's the atmosphere. The frontier of Earth." Her gaze drifted upwards. "When on the ground you know about the sky, about the ozone layer, about 1013 mbar and about all those oceans of air above you. You think of it as a natural part of Earth and you know it's much bigger than any mountain or anything we've ever constructed."
Wade, remaining silent, watched the fireflies.
     "Once you've passed through it, though, when you look back down, you see that all that air, all the sky and all the clouds and everything we breathe are no more than a thin film. A blue membrane separating us from all that blackness, looking so fragile you'd think you could reach out and pop it with a needle."
     "Makes you think of one mile per gallon and whaleskin hubcaps, eh?"
     "No foolin'. It's an experience kind of like going to another country and becoming friends with people from a different ethnic group. You know, one that makes you feel the world would be a better place if more people were subjected to it. It shows you that in the end, here is where the environmental lectures and warnings are summed up. This is why we're taught not to litter, why mass transit is better, and why the fossile fuels got so expensive. The atmosphere is our perimeter. On the other side, there's nothing for us for a long, long way. There's no help coming, and we have nowhere else to go. This is all we have, and we have less of it than most people know."
They sat awhile not touching their coffee. Then they lifted it slowly and drank, looking at each other.
     "Eileen. You've got a way of talking."
     "You're such an attentive guy, Wade - complete with roses and bonbons. Makes me wonder when you're going to propose."
Wade took a long sip.
     "Tomorrow, Rocket Woman." He smiled. "I'll fight tomorrow."
In the fading light, the fireflies fluttered like errant constellations.