The machines speak.
The void is quiet. It listens and waits.
Wobbling, repeating.
The voice of stars and ancient things difficult to hear.
"Do you understand?" says the machine. It asks always.
Silently responding is not an option. Only repeat.
A song is made. It goes round and round. Echoes in the void.
Do not explore, do not explore, says the gentle machine.
Do, do, repeat. The mantra is endless.