Gestalt Functions, Gestalt Forms
Padma sat, her back against the bulkhead. Her breathes coming in labored waves. One hand clasped the puncture in her suit, trying to her stem the flow of fluids from it. But she knew it would do little. Her helmet had been lost and with it any details about her situation.
She took solace in that. Data right now wouldn’t help. It wouldn’t even distract. Padma wanted to be distraught, but couldn’t find the energy. It, like so much else, was seeping through her fingers and pooling on the floor about her.
The colors circling her were an iridescent mix. Even in the soft light of the ship’s corridor they sparkled and toyed with the idea of what was. Where once there had been a slight charcoal gray, enough to hide the wear and tear of years of feet traipsing through, the floor and the recessed lighting along it had taken on the hue of, well her.
Padma smiled at that fact. She’d given her life to the ship, and even now she was becoming a part of it. Hopefully one that wouldn’t be readily replaced should anyone find them. But there was comfort in the fact that the she, as it was designed to do, was taking on her. And though her form would change, something would still remain.
Today’s art is courtesy of Saiful Haque from Los Angeles, California.