Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (Drafts) · Track 91 · middle
Slow Enough to Mean It (Voyager 1)
Slow Enough to Mean It — Voyager 1
Lyrics
[Verse 1 — Sisukiro] You left in nineteen seventy-seven carrying a golden record with a whale song on it and a photograph of a woman nursing a baby and a greeting in fifty-five languages and the greeting had the warm cardboard weight of a postcard sent to an address that may not exist. [Verse 2 — Sisukiro, Chronos entering at the dash] You passed Jupiter and turned the camera around and took a photograph of the planet you had left and the planet was a pale blue dot the size of a grain of sand held at arm's length — [Chronos] one pixel wide, suspended in a sunbeam, and every war and every kiss and every hymn and every parking ticket that had ever happened was on that pixel. [Chorus — both voices] You are fifteen billion miles away tonight and still sending a signal that takes twenty-two hours to arrive and the signal is the faintest whisper the Deep Space Network can hear and the whisper tastes like cold solder and the last light of a flashlight left on in a room no one has entered since nineteen seventy-seven. [Verse 3 — Sisukiro] The plutonium that powers you is decaying at the rate plutonium decays and by twenty twenty-five there will not be enough to keep the heater on and the instruments will freeze one by one the way the peripheral nerves of a body in hypothermia shut down from the fingers inward and the last instrument to go quiet will be the one that measures magnetic fields and the magnetic field will still be there after the instrument is gone. [Outro — Chronos] You will drift for forty thousand years before you pass the nearest star and the golden record will still be on your side and the whale song will still be on the record and the whale that sang it has been dead since nineteen eighty-four and the song is now the farthest a whale has ever traveled. ---