Gravity well, soft landing, calling card, rover with ridged tracks marking the eternal dust layers.
Hello intrepid space travellers, The Inhabitant of Asteroid 226 welcomed the space faring Jellyship crew, Every day I chase the falling debris that zips across my sky, to collect and collate into my storage, each piece of fiery metal comes with wishes attached in files and libraries and archives. Would you like some?
Well, that is something, said the Captain, Are the wishes stacked in order of arrival, or is there an alphabetical system in use? Coincidentally, we have journeyed here with some wishes of our own. Our planet, that one over there, third out from the local star, has a need of more comfortable housing for the homeless and we were wondering, also, a paddock for the horses. Do you have or know where?
I may be able to help, said the Inhabitant, I could guide you to the appropriate and you could recompense me something that you have been keeping on top of the wardrobe for a rainy day. As for re settlement rights, I could sign them over for a consideration. That star to the left of that star there (pointing), has a multitude of exoplanets which are suitably comforting and are equipped with copious grazing for the equestrians amongst us. It is all yours, if you give me that which I require in exchange. I have been told that air fryers are a must in the modern kitchen and would certainly hand over all the rights to you in exchange for one of a suitable pedigree and designer label.
I beg your pardon, said the Captain, We are not come thus far to haggle the difference, measure the horses teeth, discuss the colour of money or assess the ripeness of the fruit, although those peaches look tempting? Air fryers are not cheap. No, we have come to check the availability of resettlement zones for the under housed and some lush grazing for their horses. Anyway, designer label are a false gauge of quality.
Hold, cried she Sphinx having listened patiently to this exchange, Let us be clear, every star has a number, every star has a number and a name, they are written in the stars, under the stars, over the stars and around the stars. We count hard, night and night, to understand their order of magnitude. Let the stars speak, let the numbers reel down the screens, sometimes in fine order or grids, sometimes cascading in chaotic waves of figures, storm fronts of numbers, stars without end, stars without beginning, stars forever without end, until the end of time. Stars and stripes, stars of stage and screen, star fish, star light, bright star, falling star, guiding star and starry starry night. Don’t pretend that anyone can own or sell the distant stars, they are the property of wandering wanderers who make the journey. They do not belong to some Asteroid Inhabitant with a telescopic telescope sight.
What do you mean? said the Inhabitant, enumeration is nine tenths of the laws of property. I have studied the loopholes and engaged a lawyer in a shiny suit. I know my rights.
The Hoi Poloi gathered around, having circumnavigated the asteroid in search and found wanting. There is nothing here of value, they said, There is a big box of space junk behind that crater, but nothing of worthiness, no living quarters or green munch for the horses.
Stop right there, said the Inhabitant, The items within that box may look like junk to the naked, but each one is the receptacle of myriad wishes accumulated as it has traversed the night sky like a fiery chariot. Don’t be fooled by the cover of the book. Therein lies a toaster from the ISS, the inevitable spanner, three small satellites, twelve re-entry modules, five gold rings, four calling birds, three bent pens, two turtles and a partrim in a fair tree. They carry a million wishes, donated by viewers as each object traversed the dark canopy of night. They fall into three main categories. One, Can anybody find me someone to love? Two, Keep me and mine healthy and Three, Let me and mine be happy. There are others, but they are all a bit specific to be mention, mostly concerning anxiety, wealth and depression.
At the bottom of that box is the second stage boosterism of a Saturn 5 rocket which carries a payload of wishes unparalleled in the history of falling stars.
We say what we mean, said the HP. The second stage booster that this inhabitant appears to be prattling on about, is encased in a dense aura of wish material which is dangerously unbuffered and should be enclosed in casting concrete and deep dense insulation for protection. The fur of the wild yak, mixed with coconut fiber, and a generous helping of wool from a rock should be sufficient to hold back the emotion, but there are no guarantees. It would perhaps be best to send them in to the heart of the sun, for safety’s sake alone.
In my youth, said she sphinx, all the stars had names given that they might serve us all in their eternal dance. Guide us in the night and illuminate our darkest wanderings. But now I can see that the Galaxy or Milky way, Heracles’s sweetest nightcap, is undeniably uncountable and the given names alone are not sufficient.
I shall encompass the galaxy in my paws so that it maybe delivered in grand illumination and son et lumiere evening events. Then the distance between the star systems will all but disappear and we may simply hop from one to the next before coffee time. Worm holes and beetle ladders will not have to be invented after all.
As to the fate of the attached wishes, well, we should set them free from their space junk and let them roam the star systems at will until they find stasis and satisfaction. All the wishes together in one place places a strain on the continuum.
Come, said the Captain, and the Hoi Poloi took all the junk and released therefrom the tissues and skeins of wishes which had entwined until all the wishes had individual presence and direction to discover.
Deep under the deserts of Belgium and Switzerland the Hadron Wish Collider churned out mutated wishes at every collision, looking like directionless fireworks, they silently left the scene.
The Guardians of the Cave 