Within the cosmic vacuum, fragments of lost civilizations drift. Their scripts, resembling our own, yet echoing a different syntax resonant with higher frequencies. Each character, a gateway, a trap.
Anthropomorphizing their symbols leads us astray. "Insert tab A into slot B" becomes a lyrical nightmare—what if the assembly is beyond our comprehension?
[Data Log 8341-Z]: Recent encounters indicate a 65% probability that concepts of time are a mere illusion to these entities. They perceive existence as a spectral ribbon, threading through multiple realities.
Histories entwined, stories rewritten under the glimmer of unfamiliar stars. What if? These questions unspool like threads from a tattered parchment, tenuously connecting us, or maybe severing those threads altogether. Is your reality a mere fractal of their transmission?
Research has yielded evidence of residual psychotropic patterns in the texts, suggesting not only communication but manipulation. Are we mere spectators to an extraterrestrial theatre?
Investigate: Fragments of Reality. What terrors lie embedded in the tautology of existence?
Furthermore, we muse: each parchment is a potential origami flatline, folding realities into unfathomable shapes.