Clusters of analogue synthetics lock into sequences and bounce around. Random madness hovers close by, disguised in a shroud of possible coherency. A swarm of information gathered close to it's queen. Spinning tops cut the crystal. Space pitches, then pitches down a notch.
Stars slide to a slowdown.
The edge of sky. Into and out of a relative, Silence. If you don't wish to receive this, then let us know. Any feedback is welcome . Forward to your allies.