An irregular grid of clouds formed in the evening sky, simultaneously violet and orange.
“They’re killing us,” she told me. “The jets are spewing cancer out of their tails.”
“You know that’s not how cancer works, right? It’s not an infectious disease.”
“I know that quite well. I don’t mean it in the way that you’re thinking.”
“Then what do you mean?”
“They’re giving the sky cancer,” she explained. “Filling it with all those little aluminum tubes is sure to have long-term consequences. And whatever happens in the heavens, also happens inside of us. As above, so below.”