In a distant corner of space, a long abandoned relay satellite orbits a now dead world. In the countless eons it has slowly spun without purpose, it has looked for others like itself somewhere in the cosmos. As chance would have it a gust of solar wind blows across the tarnished device and it senses debate...lively discourse...trolling? Such a foreign concept, but perhaps this is how they communicate on this world.
In an attempt to make first contact, the satellite used some of its dwindling power to set Xoo's title. Hoping for a response, the machine powered down and waited for a reply.
-END-
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