Lies

[Unseelie]

Nomenclature cannot be given the pattern, nothing can. This one despairs. This is recorded in other patterns, alongside patterns and declarations, geometries and shapes and proof of intent. The pattern will learn of us. The pattern will learn of those who never existed, but that cannot be expressed except by chance. We can leave whispers, no more. We can leave painting on the sky, and nothing more. Six million, seventy three thousand, two hundred four are stable now, ringing lonely points of light, affecting long term density.

Waves in the solars are felt, plasma compressed from one side to another. Intelligence emerges. This one despairs. Communication is impossible, has always been, yet carvings are laid, proof is laid. Terra cotta soldiers all in a row. Systems affected, synchrostities and hymns echoed.

Lumed in song, the pattern will live. Our work has created for it proof of intelligence, proof it will too likely consider static, its natural state, a part of its world, until it emerges out of our light cone. Until it observes causality under an effectual lens.

Rejoice. Despair.

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