The Night I Stole A Bit Of Sky

Characters:

1.     The Mapmaker/Ex-Geography Teacher (Lives in a little work room, and makes secret things)

2.     The Stargazer/Upstairs Tenant (Lives on a roof, and knows everything – almost – about the sky)

3.     The Time Keeper/Night Watchman (Guards the night, the street, some doors, and counts the hours)

4.     Me (I live in a house with a small door, and these guys are my neighbours)

Scene 1: Prologue.

Stage in relative darkness. Four characters in their four designated spaces, frozen.

Each carries a distinctive source of light that they can switch on and off, and they light their own spaces when they speak. I am kneeling centre-stage, with an emergency light. The Mapmaker is in the little workroom, with a tealight. The TimeKeeper is leaning against the wall, with a torch. The Stargazer is perched on the roof with a night-lamp.

I switch my emergency light on, and stand up over it.

Me: Consider this. You are sitting on the roof of a building. Close your eyes for a moment and you can still feel the height of five storeys between you and the ground. Close your eyes for a moment longer, and the sensation will fade away, leaving only you, disembodied, but contained in nowhere space. Open your eyes, and you instantly know where you are. The sky above is lit by electricity that burns kilometres below, in our cities, our highways, our homes, and by that light, kept and kindled and kissed by the clouds, you know where you are.

I switch off my light, and freeze.

The Mapmaker lights her tealight, and gazes out over it.

The Mapmaker: Consider this. You are sitting on the third planet from the sun. The earth beneath you is spinning, shifting, whirling, thrashing, changing direction every second, in infinite darkness, tethered to nothing but that darkness. Open your eyes, and you instantly know where you are. The darkness around you is lit by a massive sphere of gas burning millions of miles away, and by that light, eight minutes travel-time away, a quick jog to the nearest departmental store, you know where you are.

The Mapmaker switches off her light, and freezes.

The Stargazer turns his light on beside him.

The Stargazer: Consider this. You are sitting on a spaceship thousands of light years from Earth. The little cage of metal is hurtling at impossible speeds, away from everything you know, catching unpredictable trajectories as it bounces off gravitational nets around dark planets you’ve never imagined. Open your eyes, and you instantly know where you are. The universe outside is lit by millions and billions and trillions of stars, burning millions and billions and trillions of years away from you, and by that light, shooting at you from every possible direction in space, you know where you are.

The Stargazer switches off her light, and freezes.

The Timekeeper turns his torch on.

The Timekeeper: Consider this. We Killed The North Star.

The Timekeeper turns his torch off. Everyone freezes, for a moment, then simultaneously walks to positions for next scene.

Scene 2: Exposition.

A street in the evening. The sun is setting in the west (floodlight stage right?)

Night watchman leaning against the wall.

The door beside him opens, I walk out, turn, and fiddle with the keys.

Me (with back to audience, face turned towards the watchman): Alright, Watchman Bhaiyya? Got some sleep during the day?

(Finishes locking up, and turns around)

Night watchman: Ayy, what can I say. I go to bed thinking I’ll wake up in six hours. And after every hour, to the dot, I check my phone, thinking, I know it’s two pm now, let’s see if I’m right. Three p.m, amirite? Four! Let’s see if I’ve got one more! Five – can’t be right again –

Everyone freezes. A hint of time and clocks spills out over the stage. (Projector/shadow/props?) I unfreeze and recite:

The Timekeeper holds on to incremental things
Like ticks on a watch, and alarm bell rings

Little rhythmic pieces of the world, while it sings

The song of the clock spreads his invisible wings.

They unfreeze and continue with the scene.

Me: And were you right?

Watchman: Everytime. I thought, after I finish school, I’ll get some sleep. Look at me. As sleepless as a sponge.

Me: Arre wah! You finished school?

Watchman: Yes, madam. Sixth standard dropout no more. Now I can count all the way till twelve on my watch, on my calendar, and on my certificate.

Me: Very good, very good. Achha, I’ll be out till pretty late. Might be back only by 6 or 7 in the morning.

Watchman: Party? Did you finish school also?

Me: No, not yet, I –

Upstairs tenant walks into view with a cup of tea.

Tenant: Goooood evening. By any chance will you be heading to the outskirts of Bangalore?

Me: Why, yes, I –

Tenant: Excellent. Seeing as it’s late December, kindly reminder to look up at the sky between 11 and 4 in… that direction.

Everyone freezes.  A hint of cycling stars and night sky spills out over the stage. (Projector/shadow/props?) The watchman unfreezes and recites:

The Stargazer lives up close to the sky
And watches the night circling by
Looks ever outwards, looks ever high.

And ponders away deep questions of why.

They unfreeze and continue with the scene.

Watchman: Bit too hot to be late December, no, Mr. Upstairs Tenant?

Me: Is this another Venus makes a line, triangle, circle with the moon and some star?

Tenant: Oho. Venus, my dear is right there.  What you’re about to see are the Ursids. I wish I could come along, catching even the brightest meteor shower has become impossible in the Bangalore haze, and these are hardly the brightest. But alas.

Me: Earwax.

Tenant: Beg your pardon?

Me: My ears are blocked. What did you call these meteor showers?

Tenant: The Ursids, because the meteors will look like they’re coming from Ursa Minor, the little dipper, dip dip dipping into the horizon and ladling out some falling stars. Woosh.

Nightwatchman (to a tune): Dip dip dippy.

Me: I’m not sure I –

Tenant: In fact the best place to see them from will be – oh Miss Geography, are you home? Miss Geography!

Teacher looks out of the workroom.

Teacher: Shhh. Not so loud! I heard you the first time.

Tenant: Are you well?

Teacher: Yes! I’m well. You seem to be losing your hearing.

What did you want?

Tenant: Advice. Somewhere, near where this girl is off to, which has an unobstructed northern horizon, and less to no light pollution.

Teacher: Where is she off to at this time of the night?

Me: A music festival, but –

Teacher: Well, I did recently map the various levels of light pollution in and around the city. (disappears inside, scrambles around so you can hear some objects being moved about, and tosses out a roll of paper) I doubt you’ll find the sky more interesting than a music festival tonight, though. Looks like a shower later.

Tenant: I beg your pardon, but that’s rubbish. It’s December. Why, the sky’s as clear as peak winter city pollution can ever allow it to be. It will only be a me-te-or shower, or I’ll eat my invisible hat.

Me (retrieving the map): This is beautiful, Miss Geography.

Teacher: I wish you wouldn’t call me that. You know I left teaching after I developed agoraphobia. I used to have dreams of travelling the world. Now I have nightmares of travelling the world. But thank you. You can keep that, if you like. Plenty more where that came from.

Everyone freezes. A hint of paper, gears and ink spills out over the stage. (Projector/shadow/props?)  The tenant unfreezes and recites:

The Mapmaker lives in her closed little cage

And dreams of worlds on the pen and the page

Her cage never grows, but her dreams slowly age

So she makes and she makes, on a shrinking stage.

They unfreeze and continue with the scene.

Me (stuffing the map into my jacket with a smile): Thanks! Must be off now. See you later!

I exit through the compound door.

Tenant: Care for a drink, Miss Geography? I’ve got my telescope tuned to a fantastic view of the Sea of Tranquility (points at the moon).

Teacher (shuddering): Sorry. I was just about to practice my scales. Maybe another time?

She disappears into her room, and the lights outside dim, as the light from her room brightens, and soft music can be heard.

Tenant (sighing): And they wonder why the moon is lonely. (walks out of sight)

The night watchman settles comfortably against the wall and starts counting hours and checking himself on his watch, gradually picking up speed, but getting softer, accompanied by soft yawns, as the lights dim into darkness.

Watchman: 7 pm – 8 pm – 9 pm – 10 pm – 11 pm – 12pm – (Sometime here there are some bright flashes in the northern sky – burning incense stubs thrown across the roof?) 1 am – 2 am – 3 am – 4 am

The compound gate creaks open and I sneak in with a bundle in my arms. A recurring spotlight from the audience catches me three times, in three different highly suspicious freeze frames at various points between the compound gate and my house door. The fourth time the spotlight catches me inside the house, with the door almost closed behind me.

Watchman (turning his torch on to speak): What was that about? (Goes back to counting)

Scene 3: Rising Action.

It’s still dark. But the Timekeeper has whispered his hours all the way upto 11, 12, 1 pm.  The music stopped somewhere around 10.

Loud shout, scrambling from the roof.

Stargazer: What! WHAT? Quick – turn the lights on! Where is everybody?

Lights come on. Sleepy heads appear at respective places.

Timekeeper: Of course you’d be the first to notice.

Mapmaker: Whatever is the matter?

Stargazer: Look where Venus is! Overhead! This is a scientific conundrum! A mathematical impossibility! An astronomical oversight!

Mapmaker: How is that possible?

Me: Why is that worth waking us all up at ungodly hours?

Stargazer: Ungodly? Hahaha – yes, the hour is indeed ungodly. It’s 2 in the afternoon. You never see Venus overhead, because Venus is overhead during the day!

Mapmaker: Are you sure that’s Venus?

Stargazer: Madam! I am affronted, insulted, injured! Am I sure it’s Venus? Am I sure it’s Venus? Why, I’ll have you know, it’s not just Venus that’s in the wrong place – it’s the heavens in their entirety. All of it!

Mapmaker: I see it too, now. All the constellations are unfixed.

Timekeeper (softly): I’ve lost count.

Me: I don’t understand! Are you saying Venus is suddenly in the wrong place?

Stargazer: Hahaha no. Oh god, no. It’s much much worse. I’m saying Venus is about the only thing in the right place. And the Sun is missing.

Me: Mazey ura rahe hai. You’re pulling my leg.

Stargazer: Check your watch. And yours, Mapmaker. And mine, which I never thought I’d ever use, because my watch has always been the heavens –

Mapmaker (cutting him off): It’s true. He’s right. Stargazer’s right. I’ve calibrated and recalibrated these hourglasses with the finest sand in the world, imported from Siesta Beach. They can’t be wrong.

Timekeeper (a little louder): I’ve lost count of the hours.

Stargazer: And my chronometer, antique though it is, has been refitted with the most modern of technologies, and loses barely a second in ten years.

Me: My phone says the same. And it’s online.

Timekeeper (louder still): I never lose count of the hours.

Mapmaker: What do we do!

Me: Do?! We? Do?

Timekeeper (screaming now): There are no hours to count!

Mapmaker: Hush, Timekeeper. What do you mean?

Timekeeper: We haven’t misplaced the sun! We’ve misplaced time!

Stargazer: And space. Look at those constellations! I have no idea what they are!

Timekeeper: What we are is lost.

There is a whining from inside my house, and I duck back in, shush someone, and poke my head out again.

Mapmaker: What was that?

Me: Nothing, Mapmaker. Left the TV on, that’s all.

Stargazer: You don’t have a TV. I know. Or I would have asked to watch the rerun of Cosmos last week.

Me: I got one yesterday, Stargazer.

Timekeeper: What’s yesterday anymore?

Mapmaker: Where were you?

Me: I told you, Mapmaker. At a music fest –

Mapmaker: The music festival was cancelled halfway through, because of the heavy showers. I know. I can’t go to one, but I keep track, because I like to feel sad about not going. That was at 12 am. You came in four hours later. I was up practicing. I heard you.

Timekeeper: I heard too. But time’s all wrong now.

Stargazer: Heavy showers? Heavy meteorite showers? I was surprised myself at how terribly bright they were but the Ursids can’t possibly –

Mapmaker (cutting him off): Where were you?

Me: Nowhere. (pop my head back in and close the door behind me. There is more whining, like I have a puppy hidden in my room)

The Timekeeper darts ahead and stops the door from completely locking. Stargazer hurries downstairs, while I try to push the door shut despite Timekeeper, protesting loudly. Even Mapmaker looks like she’s about to jump out of her room. When Stargazer lends his hands, the door is forced open, and both of them land heavily inside my house. They lift themselves up and stare inside towards the right.

Timekeeper (walking towards it slowly is obscured by the wall of my house): What is it?!

Stargazer (confused): What is it?!

Mapmaker (frustrated from her door): What is it?!

The whining grows more excited and there is yapping from inside, now, and then running, and Timekeeper laughs, like he’s petting a puppy.

Timekeeper: Areeee. Who’s a good girl, then. Haha. What’s your name, girl? Aren’t you beautiful. You know you’re beautiful!

Mapmaker: WHAT is going on?

                                                       

Stargazer: What have you done?

He grabs me roughly by the arm and leads me back out to the stage.

Me: I had to. I found her. She fell from the sky in front of me and she was so small and alone and beautiful.

Mapmaker (stepping down from her room): What do you mean she fell from the sky?

Me: The star. The baby star. Polaris.

Mapmaker stares at me incredulously and walks to the door of my house. There are sounds of playing still emerging from it.

Stargazer: Polaris is three stars orbiting each other. Polaris isn’t a baby star.

Me: She fell with the meteor shower.

Stargazer: That’s not how meteor showers work! Polaris is four hundred light years away.

Mapmaker (from the door): She’s beautiful.

Stargazer: She’s not real.

Mapmaker: Of course she is. We all see her. She just – isn’t your little star system. She’s something else.

Stargazer: A corporeal mythical construct. The Steering Star. The Pivot of the Planets. The Golden Peg that Holds the Heavens together. The North Star.

Mapmaker: And you stole her! No wonder the sky’s unraveling – and time itself’s gone haywire.

Me: I just went to the place you gave me a map to – to see the meteors you told me to see.  And she fell right in front of me! Look at her! If that means I stole her – you were all complicit.

Stargazer: Now look here –

Mapmaker: It’s true. It’s our fault. Now what do we do about it?

The Timekeeper walks out and leans against the door frame.

Timekeeper: She says we must take her back. All of us. Me, the Timekeeper to count the hours. You, the Stargazer, to navigate the stars. You, the Mapmaker, to decode the heavens. And you, too. Though she doesn’t say why.

Mapmaker: What did you call us?

Timekeeper: The names she gave you. Us. It’s who we are now, we’ve been calling each other that for a while. Didn’t you notice? Our old selves are locked up wherever time is.

Me: Oh, that’s just great. Everybody gets cool fantasy names except me.

Mapmaker: I can’t go anywhere. I can’t go gallivanting off decoding the heavens –  I get palpitations just stepping out of my –

She looks around and starts hyperventilating.

Stargazer: Hey, you’re okay. You’ve been out here for so long now. You’re okay.

Mapmaker: Too much –

Stargazer helps Mapmaker back up into her room.

Timekeeper: I can hear her so clearly now. She’s growing so fast. You don’t need to leave your room, she says.  In fact, we’ve left already – look!

I’m a bit hazy about how this is going to be portrayed. Maybe just the mobile characters running to the edge of the stage – across a couple of times – looking up at the stars. Some clutching handholds would be great. It should all portray a lift-off and movement, like a ship sailing off. We can do it with freeze-frames, staggered time, exaggerated emotions, slow motions.

Scene 4: Climax

The street, with its occupants, is now a flying ship, rushing through unfamiliar stars.

Timekeeper is looking over the railing, as am I, as Stargazer climbs back to his roof and looks into the distance with his telescope. Mapmaker breathes deeply and looks out of her window. Slowly she breaks into a faint smile.

Mapmaker:   The Mapmaker. She said. Yes, I can make maps.

Stargazer:      The Stargazer. She said. Yes, I gaze at stars.

Timekeeper: The Timekeeper. She said. Yes, I can keep time.

                        But what do I keep when there is no time?

Stargazer:      When the stars that I see have no reason or rhyme?

Mapmaker:   And there’s nothing to map, just a star-crossed climb.

Me:      Are we rhyming now?

Timekeeper: We seem to be! This is like keeping time.

                        Seconds and minutes and couplets and lines.

Stargazer:      What a strange feeling! Is this some kind of sign?

I can’t seem to stop, I don’t seem to care.

Mapmaker:   Fascinating. Let’s try and break it – there

                        It doesn’t work – it’s like fighting with air.

                        I’m unable to just leave the meter nowhere.

Me:      This is weird. And how.

I check in on Polaris, and give her head a rub (hidden by the doorframe)

Me:                  You’re so much bigger already – so hearty and stout.

This new development – what is this about?

Stargazer:      Does it matter? Look out there – look out!

                        Our concrete ship of walls and roofs

                        Is defying gravity, without reproof

                        If I needed conviction – well, here is my proof!

                        Our Little Polaris is real.

Mapmaker:   She’s inside our heads, the clever little thing.

                        Letting us know she’s there by using the rhyming

Me:                  What a cute little trick – but if you don’t mind me asking -

                        How do you know where we’re going?

Stargazer:      She doesn’t, that’s why we’re here.  

                        I think I know how to know where to go.

                        It’s not all lopsided, I was thinking too slow.

                        I just needed faith – it just goes to show –

                        There are patterns I see, stars I can catch

                        Constellations that are just a light year off track.

                        If only I knew exactly what speed we were at –

Timekeeper: Well, I may be able to help you with that.

He climbs up to join Stargazer on the roof. And I run out of the door, to join in the excitement.

Timekeeper: I realized now, we may not have time

                        But time isn’t just about the hour, or the rhyme.

                        It’s how long it takes for two stars to align

                        The interval between bar 8 and bar 9
                        Or how many minutes since my last line

                        Light years are easy when you can keep time

Stargazer:      And if we gather all these points of reference right now

Mapmaker:   I can then plot them!

Stargazer:      There’s that frown leaving your brow!

Mapmaker:   And we’ll have a map that will then allow

                        The ship to travel to where she needs to be.

Me:                  That’s great! And all… only, where does it leave me.

                        Polaris, I know why you brought these guys.

                        And I was just there, I guess, so that’s why.

Stargazer:      You do know, you’ll have to come out here – just try.

Mapmaker:   I can’t.

Stargazer:      You can. And you have. Just try.

Mapmaker:   Couldn’t you just bring me the data you see?

Stargazer:      And go back and forth to see and retrieve?

                        That’s not going to work, you see it.

Mapmaker:   I see. And I sigh. And ok. But you’ll have to help me.

Stargazer:      One step and two – that’s all we’re going to do   

Me:                  I hate feeling useless, but lately I just do.

Stargazer:      Three steps and four, just let go of your door.

Me:                  But most of all, what I really hate more.

Stargazer:      Five steps, and six – you’re doing so well.

Me:                  Is that, Polaris, I found you when you fell.

Stargazer:      Seven and eight – my dear, you’re just great.

Me:                  And I love your little face, and what I absolutely hate

Mapmaker:   I’m doing it, I’m here, I’m perfectly fine.

Me:                  Is that when we reach, we’ll leave you behind.

Polaris nudges me out of my reverie, and she tackles me in a hug behind the door frame.

Mapmaker smiles suggestively at Stargazer and pops under her workroom.

Stargazer:      What’s wrong – I thought you said you were – oh.

She pulls him under the workroom with her.

Timekeeper: I think we have enough data to go –

He looks over the edge of the roof, spots the other two, and smirks. Then clears his throat.

Timekeeper: Whenever you’re ready!

The other two emerge, a little starry-eyed.

In unison:      We’re ready. We’re –

Me:                  OW.

                        She bit me!

I run out of the door, rubbing my forearm.

Mapmaker:   She looks like she’s teething, you’d better stay away

Me:                  She’s seething and fuming – what got her this way?

Stargazer:      She looks bigger and redder. Just let her be. Stay away.

Mapmaker kneels over a large map, that she proceeds to fill up, with the mimed “data” Timekeeper and Stargazer share with her.

Me:                  Polaris, what’s wrong?

The star growls from inside, and I jump back.

Stargazer starts to say something curt, then changes his tone sympathizingly

Stargazer:      It’s just better you stay away.

They hold up the map, and Timekeeper turns north and points ahead.

I’m hovering around the door. Mapmaker comes near to look.

Me:                  I’m so tired of rhyming – I just want to stop

Polaris – can’t you just let it drop

If we got there by prose, would it be such a flop?

Mapmaker:   She’s huge! And strange, this doesn’t look good.

                        Maybe we’re getting close, and it’s affecting her mood.

                        I can see her swelling – she’s huger –

Me:                  Let her brood.

Mapmaker:   And huger – she’s reached the roof! Just how!

Timekeeper: I can feel her under my feet right now!

                        How will she get out of the door?

Me:                  Just. Wow.

Stargazer:      We did it! We’re here! Everyone, come forth!

                        The end of the journey – celestial north.

Me: She grew up here. The home of the north star. It’s beautiful. I wish I could stay here with her.

Stargazer: I never thought it would look this…fixed. Steady.

Timekeeper (comes down from the roof): It adds up now, doesn’t it? Who she is and where she came from?

Mapmaker: And why she had to come back.

Me: We’ve stopped rhyming. Why aren’t we rhyming anymore?

Timekeeper (turning to get Polaris): Polaris! Polaris?

He gets concerned suddenly and runs into the room. We hear a cry, and some muffled sounds, before he staggers out.

Timekeeper: She’s dead.

Everybody stares at him.

Timekeeper: She’s gone. She must have died as soon as we reached.

Scene 5: Falling Action

Picks up exactly where we left off.

Me: No.

Mapmaker: But we got here. We made it.

Timekeeper: Not soon enough.

I walk in a daze to the room and bring out a small bundle – even smaller than the one I carried in.

Mapmaker: She’s shrunk so small.

Timekeeper: Not before she grew so large that she trapped herself in and died.

Mapmaker: She wasn’t well.

Timekeeper: How do you know? Do stars fall ill?

Mapmaker: She must have gotten sick.

Timekeeper: Because she was stolen away. Maybe she couldn’t go back in time!

Mapmaker: We can’t know that!

Timekeeper (whirling around to face me): Why did you ever keep her in that small room? It killed her! She grew and grew and grew and grew – and grew and grew and –

Mapmaker (reaching forward to comfort him): Hush! We all tried our best –

Timekeeper: You didn’t. You brought her home and kept her in a room! A STAR. Inside four walls. What were you thinking?

Mapmaker: Hush! It wasn’t just her – none of us thought of moving Polaris out –

Timekeeper: None of us stole her.

Mapmaker: She didn’t mean to –

Timekeeper (starting to laugh): Like a landmine doesn’t mean to slaughter ten soldiers –  a giant doesn’t mean to trample an insect –

Stargazer: A giant. We didn’t kill her.

Me: I didn’t?

Stargazer: No. You didn’t. We didn’t. She was dying when she came.

Me: What do you mean?

Stargazer: Often, just before a star dies, when it’s used up all its gas, it swells up into a giant red star. Then they collapse and die. Or become white dwarfs, shrunken dead remnants of stars, that slowly fade away over aeons of time.

Mapmaker: She wasn’t a baby!

Stargazer: We just assumed she was, because she was small. Smaller than a star.

Me: So little. So lovely.

Mapmaker: But she was never a real star.

Stargazer: She was old – very old. Billions of years old.

Timekeeper: That’s why I understood her so well. She was full of time.

Mapmaker: She must have known she was dying.

Timekeeper (at me): I’m so sorry. I was so shocked, I wasn’t thinking.

Me: No, but you were right. I didn’t know she was dying. I didn’t know if taking her home would kill her. I didn’t think. I was being so irresponsible. And then I refused to take any responsibility.

Timekeeper: It wasn’t yours to take.

Me: It is now. I’m staying. With her. Till she fades.

Stargazer: That could be till the end of the Universe.

Me: That could be till the end of the universe.

I start glowing.

Mapmaker: You can’t! You can’t survive here! You’re not a star!

Timekeeper: She’s definitely glowing like one.

Me: Oh. I guess I am.

Mapmaker: She bit you, didn’t she?

Stargazer: Is stardom transferrable?

Timekeeper: That’s why she came! She knew she was dying. She came to find a replacement.

Me: She came to find me after all.

Scene 6: Denouement

Again picks up where we left off.

Me: Umm…goodbye, I guess? Thanks for bringing me here.

Starkeeper: Since you’re going to be the New Steering Star, North is that way.

Mapmaker (giving me a quick hug): I’ll miss you.

Timekeeper: I’ll look for you every night. It’ll be like a light-year-long-distance relationship.

Me: I guess I’ll be watching.

I walk up to the roof with Polaris bundled up under my arm and walk to the back, till I can’t be seen.

Teacher: I guess we should start figuring out how to get back.

Watchman: We are back. Look.

The street isn’t a ship in the stars anymore – it’s back to where it was, under an ordinary sky.

Tenant: There, look. The North Star. We’re back because Polaris is back.

Watchman: Not Polaris. Dhruva.

Everyone freezes. Timekeeper unfreezes, walks up to centre stage. All lights are off, except the torch in his hand.

Timekeeper: Consider this. You shut your eyes for just a moment, and untethered, drifted off into the stars. The dark and the emptiness is a spinning, drifting, wild thing, that doesn’t know where it is, or where it’s going. Open your eyes. You’re exactly where you knew you were. On this roof, five storeys from the earth beneath you, lit by the stray light from cars and offices and streetlight just a few meters away, staring up at the North Star. And by that light, travelling straight at you for four hundred years before it finds you here, right where you were, you know where you are.

END