text: Ralph found a singularity growing in his backyard. It’s a hell of a thing to see, though you’re never really quite sure what you’re looking at. It started as sort of a purple flower, he says, that just grew up out of the ground one day in the middle of his pumpkin patch. His prize-winning pumpkin patch, he always reminds us, as if that’s a crucial aspect of the story. It started as a flower, and he considered pulling it out of the ground, like the weed it was, but following a strange compulsion connected to an odd dream he could barely remember having, he let the flower grow. Within a few days the centre of the flower had shed its petals and the stem, and risen up free from the ground. The rest of the flower just fell off and faded away during the night, and then at around noon the next day the centre began to spin until it seemed to become a small shimmering vessel of unexplainable energy, all about the size of a hen’s egg. Obviously it has something to do with the chemical runoff coming out of the particle fusion generators up the way. Ever since they installed those massive towers with their queer arrays of blinking lights, we’d been discovering a lot more strangely similar types of transgression against the fundamental laws of science. Nobody knows quite what the singularity is, but I’m told that’s the nature of a singularity, not being able to conceive of it past the point of, there it is. If you’re lucky, maybe you can point to it, like when you’re standing in Ralph’s back yard. Stand close enough, and you can hear the thing humming, just ever so faintly. Sometimes you suspect it might be a song. A song you might remember, from far away, and long ago, when you were a different person. Maybe a parent hummed it to you, back before you were born. Maybe you knew this song, before you even had a body and mind. There’s not much to be done with, or about, the singularity. Ralph says it probably lowered the resale value of his home, but Ralph’s always complaining about something. Still, there’s no arguing that the thing did mess up his pumpkin patch, prize-winning or otherwise. And it did something to that little Jenkins girl. Of course we don’t know what. But it did something to her. She was warned not to play with it, but you know how some kids are. It was like she couldn’t help herself. Like she was compelled. A bit like Ralph was when he let it grow. This little girl. She was near-about ten years old. Snuck into Ralph’s backyard in the middle of the night, and got to messing with the singularity. Nobody quite knows what she was doing with it, but the next day there were a whole bunch of weird figures that’d been written in the dirt, all over Ralph’s backyard. Like somebody was figuring out maths or something. The girl never admitted to making them herself, and if it was the singularity that did it, it’s the only time that’s been known to happen. But the Jenkins, they say their little girl’s been different, ever since that day. For one thing, her voice dropped about six octaves they say, and I must admit, though I’d never encountered the child before, she does have an awfully deep voice for such a whimsical-looking little kid. And then there were the stories. The little girl, the parents said, keeps telling these stories, ever since she spent the night with the singularity. Stories about another world, one that existed long before this universe had been birthed out of nothingness. Stories about people who existed before existence, and their dreams and nightmares. Like angels, or monsters, creeping the dark, the endless dark, before there were stars or space for them to spread throughout. Ralph says the little girl, and her weird voice, and her weird stories, have nothing to do with him and the floating void of nothingness and light and sound that seems to be spinning about in his backyard. I think he’s just worried her parents might try to sue him, and equally, he’s worried that people might start to worship the thing. That happened out at the Morrison place, when that strange icon fell from the stars, and a bunch of weirdos came in from out of town and moved onto the Morrison’s land so as to be closer to the thing. I saw the icon once and it didn’t impress me much, but eventually one day it disappeared and then all the followers freaked out and tore the Morrison’s place down to its foundations. So, it’s understandable that Ralph doesn’t want anything to do with a scene like that. He’s barely paid his place off, and of course now he’s on worker’s compensation, ever since he burnt off one of his testicles with a welding torch. He sure can’t afford to get himself into any more trouble. Still, the singularity is something of a marvel to look at. Due to his fears of cults and quacks, Ralph won’t even let any scientists inspect the thing, which I think is a real pity, since it’d be neat to know more about it. Maybe it could be useful for something, in some way. Like as a source of energy or something. Ultimately, I guess the thing will just have to stay a singularity. A mystery. Just one more thing in this damn town that makes you say, huh, I wonder what that thing there is.