(Mini Prologue)

Lost in the dark, tangled in silken threads, the moon appeared at noon today. And with its antithetical appearance casting confusion upon the streets below its amniotic atmosphere of blurry distention, an awakening began.

They were the ones nesting in shadows seated upon the ledge of an open window to an underbelly reality wading behind the coiffured static. The majority thought of them as background noise, a disruption, a runaway train.

But they were the transposed insurrection of new consciousness.

Because the new

Always has been

And the old

Has been reborn

With mass dialogue shared in new tongue, their alphabet was reflected by their DNA tapestry. They were jugglers of the right and left mind, balancing humanity with an expansive reach.

And their process was contagious, but only to those susceptible to what was said in the beginning, though not in the sense defined by The Static.