Two hundred and forty-nine days ago,
an object was detected under the Great Desert of the world within.
An expedition was sent to check it;
what was found was something no one had imagined.
Another Kevin.
Buried deep beneath the layers of torture,
the epochs of projection,
was a city of Kristang magic, preserved for all eternity in thin,
wavering darklight.
And within, yet again:
enough Kristang material to restore
every single last lost soul-traveller back to indomitable, reindigenised life.
So the Mothership was constructed,
and the Scaffold instructed to build
a new Catalogue. An Eye of Kevlar that helped the story become a little more filled
with even more hope. With even more sense that a destiny
could still be instilled.
In two hundred and forty-nine days,
what have we accomplished?
What have we built?
Only enough courage and strength to last a lifetime.
Only enough individuation to restore every last lost will
to its proper place in spacetime.
Kharak was destroyed.
This planet, Karimang sa Strelapedra—
this planet is ready to come back to glorious, roaring life.
And we haven’t even set off yet.
You thought that was where the poem ended. Where the stage would be set.
Somewhere out there is Hiigara.
Somewhere out there are whole worlds, and words, and new, amazing songs
we haven’t even written yet.
Somewhere out there is a story in full
whose beginning, no matter how tremendous and enormous
we have only just met.