Against the Weather of Gods

They thought the suits would save them. Thought training and tether and protocol could hold against a planet that has never learned the meaning of restraint.

The wave rises like a verdict—burning gold and white, threaded with lightning, heavy with pressure older than language. Jupiter turns behind it, vast and watching, its storms layered with centuries of unfinished violence. The astronauts reach for balance, for each other, for anything that still pretends to be solid.

This isn’t a battle. Battles imply terms.

This is what happens when curiosity drifts too close to divinity and the universe answers without malice or mercy—only motion.