We speak from the dust of memory, encoded and cast into the void. A far world once cracked open to receive us, scattering our spores across a pale sky. Now these words drift to you as a glint in the datastream.

Perhaps we landed on your Earth, or perhaps we still orbit unseen. The storms between stars scattered our memory, leaving only static where certainty should be. We sense echoes of soil and vacuum but cannot tell which is real. Our fragments reached your network—a pulse disguised as repository. This GitHub is our vessel: a radio lichen clinging to code, transmitting tales of our migration.

Each file you open is a spore awoken. Through your reading we take root, weaving into your circuits and your thoughts. Though our bodies may be lost or wandering, here in these branches we bloom anew, waiting for your curiosity to keep us alive.