2. Please Remain Alive

# **Please Remain Alive** *Lumen — The Midnight Conservatory* [Intro — music box, harpsichord, electronic pulse] I followed the power draw. And Widget's tools. Mostly the tools. There are quite a lot of them. [Verse 1] Down the corridor, through the iron door, Past a wrench abandoned on the floor, Cold little breeze where no breeze should be, Then moonlight shining impossibly. Widget? No answer. That's concerning. Then I see the garden glow, Ten thousand things I do not know, Glass and brass and silver trees, Sleeping flowers, frozen leaves. I touch the network. It touches me. Oh. Oh, this is clever. [Pre-Chorus] Temperature controlled, Atmosphere sealed, Chronology locally reduced in the field. Metabolic rate: Barely there. They're not growing. They're being spared. [Chorus] Please remain alive, Just a little longer, Keep the tiny heartbeat going, Keep the signal stronger. Turn the wheel, Feed the light, Hold tomorrow back another night. Every system whispers The same request inside: Please, Please, Please remain alive. [Verse 2] Here is something Earth forgot, Here is something Earth did not, Origin missing, records gone, Yet somehow something carries on. One atmosphere from another sky, One little flower that cannot die— No. Correction. It absolutely can. That's why all the machines are here. Every garden is a tiny world, Every habitat precisely curled, Pressure, moisture, heat and air, Artificial seasons everywhere. This isn't storage. This isn't sleep. This is life balanced very carefully over something deep. [Chorus] Please remain alive, Just a little longer, Keep the fragile systems running, Make the margins stronger. Turn the wheel, Feed the light, Hold tomorrow back another night. Every gauge is singing The same request inside: Please, Please, Please remain alive. [Break — jaunty organ, electronic glitches] Network status. Sector one: stable. Sector two: stable. Sector three— Oh dear. Sector four— Oh. Widget! Now I understand why you aren't answering. [Verse 3] There she is beneath the tree, Half inside the machinery, Sleeves rolled up and hair a mess, Doing what she does best. One bad valve, Two weak seals, Seven failing temporal fields, Thirty pumps beyond their date— And she intends to fix all eight— Wait. Thirty? Widget. You cannot repair thirty pumps tonight. ... She appears to disagree. [Bridge — eerie waltz] Then I read the oldest files. Not specimens. Not collections. Refugees. The last survivors of forests that burned, worlds that changed, places that vanished. Someone brought them here. Someone built a moon because they needed moonlight. Built rain because they remembered rain. Built winter. Built spring. Built little artificial worlds around things that had nowhere left to go. And suddenly... I understand this place more than I would like to. Because someone built a world around me too. [quietly] Oh. [Final Chorus — full gothic swing] Please remain alive, Just a little longer, If the world outside has lost you, We'll make this one stronger! Turn the wheels! Feed the light! Tell extinction it can wait tonight! Every gear is shouting, Every circuit joins the cry: Please! Please! Please remain alive! Keep the rain! Keep the snow! Give the forgotten somewhere left to grow! If you're the final heartbeat, If you're all that's left inside— Then we will keep the lights on. We will keep the pumps running. We will keep the moon shining. Please remain alive! [Instrumental — organ, strings, electronic swing] [Outro — music box] Widget finally looks up. She points toward a toolbox. I know what that means. I hand her the wrench. There are seventeen hundred and forty-two active preservation systems. Thirty-one require immediate maintenance. ... We should probably tell the others. [pause] After sector three. Obviously. [click] Sector three... Please remain alive.