Out there, amongst the stars, a light show could be seen of such decadence as had never been seen before. This was unbeknown to its creators, who sat in stillness and for at least one a new-found silence, on the tiny blue planet called by some 'Earth'. Such silence, a lightness of being that Stefan had never felt before, and for once the language of science held no meaning for him. And then this child, this tiny child, opened its eyes wide, ever so wide, and they were a dark blue-grey colour like charcoal in the dim luminosity of twighlight. This child looked at Stefan, not with the vague lack of focus which is known of newborns, but with a determination of such magnitude that Stefan's silence was suddenly ripped apart. Outwardly, except for the lightshow amongst the stars, it could not be seen. But ever so quietly, Stefan stood up, and walked with the child through the great glass doors of the maternity ward and into the crisp frosted air of blackest night. And though it new its mother had been betrayed while in the first sleep of its creation, yet this strange child did not scream.