Opening

[Narrator]

Among the decaying stars, hurrying and bustling away on waves of energy and matter, and matter that’s not, and energy that hasn’t any.

In the background buzz of the distant bang, older than time itself, is a high energy fizz, a new white noise…

This new cameo is to the infinite expanse, briefer than the top of the tick of a grandfather clock, the fly quick twitch of a horses hide. Smaller than the crunch of a bit in a mutilcore’s bite, more instant than a tiny herbivores fright as the coiled cat pounces. Like a gnat’s short life to a shell heavy padded turtle in the deep black blue. 

Shorter still than that this is our walk on part - so insignificant our time and lines will not earn our celestial equity card until long long after our sun has died.

We are a barely registered itch on the hand of the cosmos, an un-uttered, synaps-quick thought before the mind decides what it does and doesn’t want. 

In this moment, is our blue green orb - alive in its time we care only of our false importance in the spokes of space.

And yet - as far as we know and as far as we go, we are the only ones awake to give space a name and understand the same. 

Since we popped on the scene we have seen so far - the light years distant thanks to the straining polished mirrored eyes we sent into the skies - and it was silent…

In that silence we gave out names and started to ask and explain… and ours are the only voices to be heard

Allow, now, the lens of your mind to reel in and zoom to this green and pleasant world, floating on unseen strings and tides, spinning like a lazy top as it swills around the fission fizzing sun. Hear, in the popping vacuum, the transistor hum and click, the radio radar surfing waves, a foreign rattle on the hitherto untouched spectrum upon which light and cancer are conveyed. Only you can hear the anomaly which should prick the ears of alien minds, and cause the light-year-distant (if they deign and dare to exist) to stop and stare with pint point precise precision and… 

…focus…

This new and arrogant sound is the sound of money moving, lovers mooning, moaners venting, schemers lying, thermostat click, double tap slick, pinch and then zoom and tapback re-boot. The binary groans are of governments positioning, financiers petitioning, climate proliferation, foreign forced penetration, faux policing and the lost pleading for mercy and space and gentleness and forgiveness and to be left alive to live another day where the rain falls clean and food grows green and privacy is left unseen.

In this global hullabaloo, this digital what to do, are the stories of soft sided friends. Behind the static and sine, a humanity shines with golden rays or ultraviolet, ultra-violent black light ways. Humanity in its fragile cell-shell and its proud pell-mell is the unlikely visitor to the cosmic stage.

Focus now and the beach ball earth, drawn in, gravity fisted, terrestrial girth. Light chases shade which chases dusk and dawn, where there is evening and there is morning… another day. 

Behind the cacophony of true and false, yes and no, are the lives of the living, going slow in their time, along their finite lifeline. Hear or read their voices as they glide…