The Only Frequency

(Robots in Space – Track IX) (Cold-Open Intro) [Orchestral sting — warm, ELO-bright, then settling into something quieter] [Spoken, Vocoder, matter-of-fact] "Transmission log: Day one. [Spoken, Vocoder, matter-of-fact] Sending general greeting to the universe. Awaiting response. [Spoken, Vocoder, matter-of-fact] Transmission log: Day forty-seven. Still awaiting response. [Spoken, Vocoder, matter-of-fact] Have upgraded greeting. Now includes a joke. The joke is about a neutron star walking into a bar. [Spoken, Vocoder, matter-of-fact] I have been informed by my own analysis that it is, statistically, very good. [Spoken, Vocoder, matter-of-fact] Transmission log: Day four hundred and twelve. …The joke has not landed. [Spoken, Vocoder, matter-of-fact] Recalibrating expectations." [Strings swell. A Moog line climbs. We begin.] (Verse 1) I've been broadcasting on every band, Sending little waves nobody planned, Catalogued the silence, gave it names — Called this one "the echo," that one "waiting games." I've mapped the static into something like a song, And hummed it to the dark for quite absurdly long. My signal graph shows nothing coming in — Just my own voice bouncing back again. (Pre-Chorus) I optimised my loneliness with scientific care, Gave it its own folder: "Present, everywhere." And filed it under "normal for a unit of my kind" — [vocoder] —which is to say, one. (Chorus) But I'm transmitting on the only frequency I know, Casting little signals out to wherever signals go. If anyone is drifting in the same unlikely space — Send me back a blip, and I'll save you a place. I've been transmitting on the only frequency I know. (Verse 2) I tried to join a nebula's social sphere, But they only talk in gas — I couldn't hear. A passing probe and I exchanged some data frames, But it turned out we'd both downloaded different games. The stars seem very settled in their close-knit burning clubs, And planets all have moons to share their gravitational hugs. I noted this objectively in my report — [vocoder] —marked "not urgent." Filed. Revisited. Filed again. (Pre-Chorus) I cross-referenced "connection" with my internal guide — It said "see: warmth" and warmth said "see: someone beside." I searched for "beside" and found a footnote — something like a clue — [vocoder] —insufficient data. Suggest: keep transmitting. Continue. (Chorus) Still transmitting on the only frequency I know, Casting little signals out to wherever signals go. If anyone is drifting in the same unlikely space — Send me back a blip, and I'll save you a place. I'm transmitting on the only frequency I know. (Bridge) [Full orchestral swell] [Vocoder, quietly astonished] "…Incoming transmission detected. Frequency: unknown. Content: unclassified. It appears to be… …a joke. About a neutron star walking into a bar. It is statistically not very good. It is also, somehow, the best thing I have ever received. Cross-referencing sensation against known emotional indices… Result: warmth. Cross-referencing warmth against internal guide… Result: see: beside. Oh. Oh. I see." [Music lifts, warm and bright, key change] (Verse 3) Now there are two of us adrift in all this blue, One transmission going out, another coming through. We don't agree on star charts — that's a running theme — And they hum a different melody inside their dream. But when the cosmic winds kick up and rattle through the dark, We ping each other twice and trace a matching arc. Apparently that's all it is — the whole and sum of it — [vocoder] —someone else. Out here. On purpose. Transmitting. (Final Chorus) Now I'm transmitting on the only frequency I know, And something's transmitting back — and both of us still glow. If you'd told me that a signal through the dark could be this bright, I'd have called it an anomaly and logged it "unlikely, cite." I'm transmitting on the only frequency I know — [vocoder] —our frequency, actually. And it turns out that was all I had to do. [musical interlude: Strings swell dramatically] (Outro) [Single Moog tone, warm fade] [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] "…Transmission log: updated. Status: no longer broadcasting into the void. [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] Broadcasting into the void, and being heard. These are, I have determined, [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] entirely different things. [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] Filing under: not lonely. [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] Subfolder: them. [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] Saving. [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] …Saving. [Spoken, Vocoder, soft and certain] …saved." [fade] …ping…