PINGPING ping, ping - deep sonar beneath the surface I send the echo sign no reply is returning at all I can't even fall asleep I fear too much the social collision I change thought frequency - static not even the reading channel can help the restless I turn my eyes outwards and I'm surprised by the age of eternal stations I deep-probe for the reply to echo signal the report arrives: -All Hands Were Lost no signal, not even a fleck of oil finally the thrumming of restlessness ends underwater scenery flickers tearing ear-torturing sound feeling of pressure as pain sensation in ears air bubbles surge to the surface I have arrived nearly back here in the company of written-up living souls