"That is not Ganymede in the sky"

Above him was a night sky completely unknown to him and an orange moon loomed large. The autocomp in the man’s ear chimed it’s harmonious bell sound confirming the truth of the statement spoken out aloud. The man frowned, how did he know that? How did he know that sound meant confirmation of truth. Readouts on his contact lens kept spitting numbers upon numbers in front of his left eye and amazingly the man could make sense of them all. Atmospherics, pressure, composition, temperature and humidity, microbial levels, mycelial activity.

He kept staring at the numbers until drowsiness crept up on him and before he knew it his eyes were shut. When he dreamed it seemed to be of happier times. His face smiled even as he slept. Perhaps in his dreams the faces he saw he recognized and remembered. Perhaps he dreamt of home. That is how I saw him the first time. Ape like me, yet coated in strange fur, all white and gray with hair so short you cannot tell when it sheds. Only in the slanting line of the sun can you see him shed, like flakes of powdered snow. Only the hair on his head is normal fur. There are things embedded into his body. hard to press but soft to touch, like polished nacre or horn but much harder than both.