Sphere Under Glass

A sphere of cogs, hanging over a pit, under glass. From the rim it’s a sculpture. From where I am, it’s a sample.

That’s one universe. The whole thing. They shrank it, sealed it and hung it over the hole they dug to get it out, so everyone who walks the rim can admire how neat the work was. There are people in there. Small ones now. Still going to work, still paying rent, still wondering why the sky looks green.

The glass is the part that gets me. They didn’t need the glass. They just wanted it to look finished.