Lone Star Codes · binary of the night
There is either a single star.
Or there isn't.
Every night sky on Earth is collapsing toward one bit. Pick yours.
0no star
1one star
Every night sky on Earth is collapsing toward one bit. Pick yours.
Say that fella there is Super Sirius — a bit unstable when it gets close to a lot of hydrogen and helium. Prepare for stellar battle, young padawan.
But who are we kidding. When you get to the lone star — the lone star always wins. And you, my friend, are the lone star.
So though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you will fear no evil nor star — conscious as it may seem — targeting the weak spot in your sun's outer shield to suck out your precious fusion fluids.
You must consult the pineal gland, of course. But in that great tome of the mind you will find that a vampire — undead human or undead stellar mass — is all the same thing: find the light that even the serious stars refuse to shine. Or get a giant clove of garlic. Whatever it is, you might want to hurry — once you get to the lone star, that's a class-FUBAR situation from there on out.
And while I'm told on good authority that RFND came from you after exactly that foretold shitshow — you didn't seem like you cared to make the same journey again. Something about shitting and pissing in zero gravity for centuries. I dunno.
Get going, ol' chap. WHY SO SERIOUSSSSSUHHH?!
So that's it, then. The night sky was not saved.
Send your laments. You're going to want to wait for the next ship out — or do something — because that level of light pollution just ain't christian.
There is a version of this where you turned off the porch light. Where you taught one person to look up and focus on the sparkle and what it means. That version still has a 1 in it.
The lone star always wins. But only if somebody keeps the watch.