1, 2, 3, 4, 5… there are 57 of them up there as I look into the sky. No more, no less. I have counted them, and that is all there is. A few cents short of a bag of crisps. Scraping the bottom for meaning. Enwrapped in that dark porous blanket with feint signals of unknown worlds. Binary code shooting across the universe, pings beside my bed, the room lights up. Connected to a deep network, a new life-form. Once openned it wont fit back in the packaging.