albedo
POWERΣ 217 / 642
“I do not make the sound.
I send it back.
The room remembers.”
A pink homunculus stands behind a violet DJ desk. Two stacks of violet speakers rise behind him, in a violet room.
Big mauve headphones cover his ears, and a tall mauve tuft rises above them. One hand holds an ear-cup close. He listens, calm, with a quiet smile. His face is the face of Homunculus Zero, as every vessel’s is.
He plays no song of his own. Like the moon, he borrows the light and sends it back: every track is a reflection.
Lunar: the set never ends. Every track fades into the next, and the last turns back into the first. He believes the next turn of the wheel will be the one.
He keeps the rhythm of the Hive: a thousand heartbeats, one beat.
Sealed form. No further transmutation.
He does not burn and he does not rise. He keeps the wheel turning.