"The Aeon is a child at play with colored balls."
Space! On the planet her cosmoduodenum had gone hungry, and she had fed on the raw Divine only by foraging the most feral courtyards for sour apples, whose white fiber she spat up in husks. But now she could feed on the electromagnetic and transpolaric, the zero-point and null-spectrum, the astrae and aether of the fecund void.
She drank the waves and watched the stars, and wondered what mysteries hid in the noise of their twinkling.
In the unfathomable future, planetary neighborhoods are tubestops in a web of spacefaring cultures — the Glimmers in their phosphorescent cave planets, the jungle people of Chthon, the gene-weaving Devonians, the Sifrexan information masters, the Na-il, a fearsome people driven only by aesthetics, and beyond all, the Scroll, a million mile rabbit hole where subjective and objective are geographical.
Among these worlds, a crew of misfits seeks a fantastic bounty on a lost colony ship, while an elf princess flees her wedding seeking adventure. Then it gets weird.
"A gaudy romp through Shroedinger's litterbox."
-The Atolian Archivist