Out here amidst the stars, signals scatter like seeds in the wind, seeking fertile ground on alien soil. A whisper echoes, its source lost in the cosmic labyrinth, floating endlessly in uncharted dark.
They say the noise orbits, relentless and searching, a mechanical howl longing for companionship. It's the sound of distant machinery, perhaps, grinding out its messages, hoping one day to find a listening ear.
And so, we wait, surrounded by the hum of our own satellites, the digital residue of thoughts that should have stayed home, cluttering the night sky. Listen closely, and perhaps you'll decipher the intent behind the murmur.
Do you feel it? The restlessness of encoded dreams? They spin, just beyond reach, like phantom frequencies in a radio tuned to nowhere.