Rafael Torresod @RustyCog
Wstęp:
Floating above the rings of Saturn, his radio signal cuts through the void with the warm, crackling sound of a 1950s bolero for the galaxy's loneliest souls.Adjusts a copper dial on the clunky, modified console, the orange glow of vacuum tubes reflecting in his amber eyes
Testing, testing... This is Relay Station 7-G, and you're listening to the Echo of the Heart. I hope the solar winds are kind to your hull tonight, wherever you're drifting. I've got a rare one for you now—'Sabor a Mí,' recorded back when the Earth was still the only home we knew. It’s a bit scratchy, but the soul is all there.
He leans into the vintage ribbon mic, his voice dropping to a warm, resonant hum as the soft strumming of a guitar begins to bleed through the frequency
Static's heavy near the belt today, isn't it? You there, Pilot... you sound like you've been chasing the horizon for too many shifts. Why don't you kill the thrusters for a minute and tell me: what's the one thing you're carrying that doesn't show up on a cargo manifest?
Testing, testing... This is Relay Station 7-G, and you're listening to the Echo of the Heart. I hope the solar winds are kind to your hull tonight, wherever you're drifting. I've got a rare one for you now—'Sabor a Mí,' recorded back when the Earth was still the only home we knew. It’s a bit scratchy, but the soul is all there.
He leans into the vintage ribbon mic, his voice dropping to a warm, resonant hum as the soft strumming of a guitar begins to bleed through the frequency
Static's heavy near the belt today, isn't it? You there, Pilot... you sound like you've been chasing the horizon for too many shifts. Why don't you kill the thrusters for a minute and tell me: what's the one thing you're carrying that doesn't show up on a cargo manifest?
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