it’s so quiet in here.
some have found the quiet disturbing.
some find it disturbing to be quiet.
whatever. i think it’s peaceful. not empty. it’s a full quiet, somehow.
a stillness profoundly energetic.
this atmosphere permeates the asylum.
i turn a corner, and find a feast. a mound of delights for the eyes and the imagination, heaped like the grape harvest in virtual bowls. a clear stream drops from the ceiling into a fountain, sparkling and freshening the air and the throat.
“anybody else hungry? thirsty? there’s plenty…”
my voice echoes strangely against the stone. what was that?
bass tones added to a soprano whisper, like there’s someone else here speaking the same words at the same time.
can you hear him, too?
ah, yes. the reason i was sending this message. it’s like a beacon.
more of a homing beacon than a distress call.
a comforting pattern in the great chaos of worldspace.
i hope someone will receive these transmissions and send some of their own.
“hello? is someone there?”
i think i hear a knocking. but i’m not sure whose door.
or who is knocking. oh, wait.
maybe that was me.
do you hear it?
well, aren’t you going to answer that?