The broadcast had come an hour ago—not as a voice, but as a series of rhythmic pulses in the static of the old world radio. A-J-D-B-Y-T-J-U-S-B-V-1-0.
It couldn't destroy it. Not because the cube held value, but because the string ajdbytjusbv10 felt like a name. It felt like someone, long ago, had wanted this specific collection of matter to be distinct from the void surrounding it.