text: The Button in the Tree ====================== In an untouched part of the World. In the middle of a vast, dense jungle. Amidst the trees, and the vines, and the leaves, and the animals, and the insects. There is a tree. Surrounded by other trees that look the same. But in this particular tree. In a cramped dark abscess within. Encapsulated completely by bark. There is a button. A small, round, red, button. That's part of a metal box. A machine of sorts. It's the kind of button that you push. Covered in cobwebs, and dirt, and dust. Aged. If someone were to find this button. Inside this tree. In this vast, humid jungle. And push it. It would make a soft, clicking noise. Satisfying. In the moments that followed. In that jungle. Surrounded by life and lushness. Nothing would happen. No. Nothing. But deep down. Thousands of miles away. In between continents. At the bottom of a lightless ocean. In a trench. Where neither warmth nor light has ever reached. Where the pressure crushes all but the strangest creatures. There is a small circular dial. Made of stone. Part of the sea bed. But level and sharp. Carved to perfection. And this dial would start to rotate. Ever so slowly. A grinding noise would ripple outwards. Through the dark surrounding waters. And once it completed its cycle. A full circle. It would make a soft, clicking noise. Satisfying. In the moments that followed. Far below the waves. In that deep, dark ocean. Nothing would happen. No. Nothing. But high above sea level. On the other side of the World. On a jagged mountain. At the very summit. On a crooked outcrop. Where the winds run wild. Where the skulls of adventurers lie far below. Where the rock and snow are biting hard and unforgiving. There is a tube. Metallic. Thin. Strong. Defiant. Rooted in rock. But pointing to the stars. And this tube would lower itself. Silently. Down into the mountain. And when it was submerged. Completely. It would make a soft, clicking noise. Satisfying. In the moments that followed. On the peak of that harsh, ragged mountain. High up in the frozen heavens. Nothing would happen. No. Nothing. But out there. Far across the expanse of space. Through nebulae and quasar. On the other side of the great black vaccum. On a remote, barren planet. Is a vast desert. Ravaged by heat. Searing. Crackling. Burning. Sizzling. And in the middle of this desert. Is a ship. Built for traversing the stars. Desolate. Ruined. Lost forever. With wind howling through the holes in its shattered hull. Through twisted, hanging cables. Through ravaged metals. Through damaged conduits. Its ancient interior broken. Dead. But inside this ship. Deep within it's workings. On a console. Coated in dust and sand and memories. There is a small, round, red, light. And just for a brief moment. Unseen by all. It would flicker on. Alive. It would make a soft, clicking noise. Satisfying. In the moments that followed. On that barren, forgotten planet. Far from life. Far from everything. Its glow would slowly fade back. To black. And nothing would happen. No. Nothing.