reactions of the eons of the XSR

[The Theater space is filled with the neutral gray flicker of the giant screen. The white noise, woven from the resonance of all the Paths, fades for a moment, giving way to a tense silence. The Aeons slowly take their places: from the Qliphoth zone comes the heavy grinding of granite, from the Yaoshi zone—the rustle of blossoming buds. The first to break the silence is Aha, who appears out of nowhere, somersaulting headfirst right in front of the screen.]

Akha: [drawling, with theatrical anticipation] So-o-o, ladies, gentlemen, sub-deities, and calculators! Our miracle footlights are on fire again! What is it this time? Tragedy? Comedy? Tragicomedy with vaudeville elements and explosions? I'll bet you a rubber chicken that the first five minutes will be pathetic!

Shipe: [in many voices, softly covering Akha's falsetto] We ask you, Joy, not to drown out the tuning. The screen still breathes emptiness. Let us hear the silence before the symphony... Perhaps today they will show us something fragile.

Nanook: [muffled, eyes still cracking with gold] What is fragile inevitably breaks. Silence is but a prelude to the roar. I sense entropy even in this pause. Show me. I want to see form turn to ash.

Yaoshi: [sighs, scattering spores; one of the branches reaches out toward Nanook] My child, do you not see the potential for flowering in the void? Even this gray light... it can become a cradle for immortal seeds. Let us look with hope, not with a thirst for the end.

Lan: [dramatically pulling back the string of a ghostly bow, which emitted a mosquito-like howl] Sentimentality will not lead to the goal. The screen is a window into an unknown reality. There may be a threat. There may be prey. Don't relax. The hunt begins with the first frame. [The Theater screen flickers, the gray color rippling, ready to take the shape dictated by the script. The Aeons freeze, their gazes fixed on the future. Akha, unable to bear it any longer, quietly claps her hands.]

Aha: The show-e-e begins!