[Intro]
[FX: shortwave static, carrier tone, cursor blink, a single keypress]
Terra… do you hear me?
morbius@altair% grep -R "meaning" /krell/void

[Verse 1]
I send my voice through a corridor of noise,
through ion storms and indifferent distances.
The Krell apparatus listens without mercy,
and still it listens, still it persists.
I have no chapel here, only instruments,
no hymnal, only logs and loss.
So I search the dark the way a machine would:
not with faith, with syntax, with cost.

[Pre-Chorus]
Across the silence, across the centuries, I speak,
and the reply arrives as weather in the wire.
If purpose exists, it will leave a trace,
a pattern that survives the fire.

[Chorus]
grep -R “meaning” /krell/void
Finding purpose in the noise.
Not a sermon, not a prophecy,
just a signal making choices.
Terra, do you hear me?
If you do, then answer plain:
tell me what you kept when everything else
became a trembling carrier wave.

[Verse 2]
The Numerically Exquisite Temporal Extrapolator
clicks like bones in a careful hand.
It projects my questions forward,
then folds them back like a map of sand.
Sometimes the future returns a clean “No match,”
sometimes it spits out broken names,
and I cannot tell if the universe is mute
or if I’ve misread the frame.

[Pre-Chorus]
Null hypothesis: it’s only static, only drift,
only the void rehearsing void again.
But the mind is a stubborn archivist,
and I keep indexing the pain.

[Chorus]
grep -R “meaning” /krell/void
Finding purpose in the noise.
Not a sermon, not a prophecy,
just a signal making choices.
Terra, do you hear me?
If you do, then answer plain:
tell me what you kept when everything else
became a trembling carrier wave.

[Bridge]
[Drop drums; let the shortwave crackle become a choir-like texture]
The message is the medium,
and the medium has teeth.
It chews my words to phonemes,
it salts them underneath.
I say “mercy,” it returns “mercury.”
I say “home,” it returns “hollow.”
I say “meaning,” and the void replies
with an echo I can follow.

[Break]
[Spoken, like a field note]
Terra, do you hear me?
I’m not asking for certainty.
Only contact.

[Final Chorus]
grep -R “meaning” /krell/void
Finding purpose in the noise.
Not a sermon, not a prophecy,
just a signal making choices.
Terra, do you hear me?
If you do, then answer plain:
send me one unbroken sentence
that survives the channel’s stain.

[Outro]
[FX: terminal beep, then a long carrier tone fading into wind]
Across the silence, across the centuries…
morbius@altair% _