We spoke

over the radio.

I perched cross-legged on one cloud-high peak

on a far-flung

orbiting rock

and imagined how the view

must look

from yours.

We listened - and others listened -

and our conversation

became a show.

I dropped my tone

and you raised yours,

our voices tesselating

so perfectly

that we sounded as if

we were touching;

that our hearts were beating to the

same drone;

that we were breathing the same

air.

You wouldn't have known

that we were hundreds

of thousands of miles

distant.

Can you just...

What is it?

I hear other voices sometimes. Talking to you. It's better when it's... just us.

I'm sorry.

But we both knew

that there was

(and is)

duty.

I don't think either of us quite heard

the first hiss of static.

It was a low, sibilant growl:

a bear

or a fox lying wait

in the space between us.

We neither of us wanted to hear it.

You're so good at this.

Thank you.

I mean - you're just... a natural.

But I don't know where it's going. This rock I'm on...

Don't.

But don't you ever worry? That it will spin away into nothing? That your voice will be lost out there?

Of course I do.

I had ideas.

That we could twist our words together

further.

I thought I could inspire you;

that each sentence could be molded

out of seamless, alternating

words -

if I just listened enough.

I'm sorry. I just don't...

What?

I can't stop it turning. It's spinning away from you, this rock of mine.

I didn't - I didn't mean for you to come to me...

Well I -

It's ok. Really. I don't want for you to. It's too far. Maybe we can...

There might be somewhere else. A place which isn't either.

Yes.

I don't want to tell you that I love the view from here. That I can't give it up.

And then the loneliest yuletide broadcast,

commemorating something

that means nothing all the way out here.

So merry-cheerful NICE -

stuttered -

and glitches -

I lost you for a minute. Were you... Did you go off-air?

No. No, I didn't.

It was a great show, anyway, wasn't it?

Yes. It was great. It'll only get better.

But the hiss was there now -

in every mo-men-tar-y gap.

We began to rush

to fill every space

our words coming altogether in overlongsentencesforsafety.

I feel... tired.

Me too.

The sun's going down here. I'm going to - I need a rest...

I still think it could run on. Once it rises again.

Maybe. I hope so.

And when I dozed for a moment

we were no longer speaking

the same language.

The hiss became a roar, and the

creature

was drowning us out.

That last time, I knew you could barely

understand me.

I'm - tootired. For this I don't - I'm reallysorry.

Oh. Nothat's - you're right it's. Not...

Work -ing.

There was the longest of silences before we signed off.

And then, in the faintest pause before

the static fell

I could have sworn I heard you

singing.