In the dark, at night, there are often small lights, that can be bugs, ships, other houses or boats on the sea, people with flashlights, small cars across the desert, or simply stars. The latter are often the most confusing... they move, we all accept that fact, but they shouldn't move too fast, or else they could crash close to us, and reveal through single example (a crater in the ground, a curved door opens out of the smooth metal, and then a glowing plasmic glove emerges, gripping the sharp edge of the doorway) that all stars are actually observing spaceships, which stare stare stare.

Perhaps the stars that run and dance around each other here, like the active elements of a poison gas that recombines itself on the fly in the air, on the skin, and in the lungs of its host... perhaps these stars, playing like loving, instinct-driven puppies in the window, aren't actually smart enough to watch us and take notes. NOT SO, says Hive-Maker (is he dreaming, or is this a reportage, and proof of his to-be-explained theories) these are the actual dead, who are behind anything, including technology, related to death in our world. It is their work, a profession into which they have been kidnapped and from which they cannot escape. They only look like cartoon stars.