Miscellaneous Ramble.

You wake up on a plane of snow. It's uncharacteristically fluffy and dense, as though it has been falling here for generations. You look up to find a blackened daylight, devoid of the atmospheric scattering you'd associate with home. Instead, there is nothing but the dim starlight of our warm yet ever so distant nurturer and a ringed planet; its moons seeming to dance around you in a slow and methodical rhythm.

There you see a house. A quaint A-frame, only large enough for one. It is made of some strange, ligneous form of tholins and ice. You suppose it is insular enough, though hesitate; for some reason, the extreme cold of this place feels like home to you already.

Inside the shack now, aside from "necessities" you find what can best be described as a feline automaton; a grayish-blue metal cat, sleeping on a "bed" of sheet metal and pillow stuffing.

A mirror is hung on the wall. You look at it for what feels like hours, trying to determine who you are. You attempt to connect what you see in the reflection to what you feel, what you perceive yourself as. You fail.

There is someone else here now. A robot; this time, humanoid. They greet you with a bow. It is hard to make out their face, given the heavy cloak they're wearing. From the cat-themed attire, you can assume this is the caretaker of the "cat."

They whisper something to you, something you can't make out. They have no lips, just a fixed, closed, toothy frown only able to be shown or hidden by subtle movement of the jaw. They cry. You comfort them.

You wake up in your house. A visitor is embracing you for the first time in what seems like centuries. Your cat loves you. This stranger loves you. You begin to love you. You exist. You are loved. You are.

Thank you.