[ WP ] `` Humanity spent its childhood reaching for the sky . When they held it in their hands , they found naught but empty space . ''

We had littered the sky with imaginings. Fables and legends wraught from constellations, in vaulted halls of stars Gods warred or smiled upon us. We filled it with demons and monsters, with angels and the dead. It was where we stored our past and looked to for our future. It was where the aliens came from - the ones who played with us, the ones who brought us wisdom, the ones who brought annihilation. 
 
 And we all thought one of these stories - somehow *somewhere* - must be true. That one of our childhood imaginings could be real. We did n't expect to be teetering here on the edge of eternity with only our own echoes coming back to us from the darkness. 
 
 We have our civilisation, our science and our art, and beyond that... nothing. Just a great howling void. We were n't quite ready to give up our imaginary friends just yet. I can see the hysteria already, starting to tinge their laughs, creep into the too-wide edges of people's smiles. We are losing hope or we are panicking. 
 
 We spent our childhood with a rich assortment of toys and they've been snatched from us now. And when your left alone in the dark and the silence how long before you start talking to yourself? How long before we go mad?
