[A perpetual hum – similar to that of an idle machine – exhales into an atmosphere concealed by a void. Just a shadow – sat indian-legged – seemingly weightless – flips the grated switch to a torch, cultivating a blue flame that takes on the end of a blunt. A deep breath, a swollen ember, and then the smoke reveals his stolid face.]
“You know, there’s one thing that we fail to recognize while the sides of the spectrum oppose. We are the illustrated folklore painted on the cereal boxes of Suburbia. man. We are what burns within the campfires while the fables are given wings – we are the representation of nightmares, conspiracies, and cornfield masterpieces. We are the misunderstood – the headlines buzzing against the receptors of the late-night headcase who’s shrouded by the Nevadian mountains, in hopes to see a flaming disc soar through the sky just so that he can go back to his hometown and flaunt his exaggerated tales.”
[Another gradual hit is followed by a hissing laugh.]
“We are nothing but freaks – monsters given an ominous foundation because humans only have so many tactics to cope with the great unknown. You and I – we are everything that everyone can’t seem to understand. We’re the math equation that professors and general geniuses alike can’t wrap their skulls around. They’ll drudge up some sort of unconventional explanation for our strangely inconsistent appearances, but we both know it’s only because they’re making every effort to find some sort of solace in the idea that they aren’t alone.”
[A line-up of florescent lights begin to illuminate this space. Any initial idea that the Zeta were a small community of third-dimensional beings was now suffocated, as what can only be approximated as thousands of “Zeta loyal” sit indian-legged, mirroring their guidance. At the end of the group is a much larger specimen of Zeta – the female queen herself, Delilah. Zappa blows another plumb of smoke towards the fluorescent lights.]
“They aren’t alone though, are they? We’ve been in their company for eons – moving along with them as if we put our pants on the same way they do, in hopes of gathering information that our kind would reap the benefits of. Yet, you keep pressing the issue that we can’t find an equal standing on this balancing beam. Are you sure you want to continue moving onward with a study that you’ve skipped far too many pages on to efficiently grasp, Lyra?
Imagine a world in which you and I – united? Selfishly, that doesn’t appear to enter your cortex though, does it? Why would it? Since you were just a child, you were given far too much independence. You were never told to simply stop, and reconsider the choices that you were making – and that was likely because of the great disasters your kind were in the middle of seeking refuge from. Who could’ve ever had the time to provide you with a logic behind your powers, when they were far too busy putting out the fires from the mistakes their very own logic caused?”
[Suddenly, the picture blacks out. Seconds later, we’re floating in space with the stars in attendance. The metallic glider that’s typically above Zappa is now inches away – reflecting against the titanium-based material of an opposing ship directly hovering ahead. In front of that ship, the pale blue dot patiently spins. The silver glider slowly creeps towards what can only be assumed as a ship dedicated to Lyra’s natives.]
“We could have moved this mountain together, man. We are the freaks that these earthwalkers talk about under fearful breaths, because they’ve always believed that our appearances wouldn’t come to light. Boy, could we have brought them to their knees! I had every intention of conquering all of this myself, but with you? It would have been ours for the taking in the interim of a single blink of the eye. This could have been an easy journey – and both of our kinds would have had the opportunity to savor the taste of victory. Instead, you crossed the Zeta. You crossed me.
We aren’t the folklores broadcast on television, Lyra. We are real – we are the future. All of this – it could have been a communal wealth. Now? That isn’t the future anymore, is it? The future is no longer in your hands. You traveled 25 light years too far – because all that will rest in your hands now, Lyra Starchild, is disappointment and avoidable decimation.”
[Suddenly, a hatch at the top of the silver glider flips open. Nothing for a few seconds, and then Zappa slowly lifts his head through. He looks nothing like before – his hair is gone, his eyes are now replaced with black holes. It seems like a completely different entity yet, as he stated, it’s everything that everyone choose not to see. He stares blankly at the ship in front of him before taking in a deep breath. He blinks, grins widely, and then disappears back into the glider. The idling-machine hum comes back again, overtaking any silence that there initially was until – just like that, the Zeta ship disappears into thin air.]
“Then again, you’re use to both. This shouldn’t hurt – too much.”