Linda:	Attention Space Station N16: transmitting love signals from the center of the cosmos.
Ron:	There is no space station – just a drop of shining goo.
Lex:	There is no goo either – just the play of imagination.
Lis:	Évidemment, les gens voient des choses différentes, no? I see a split-second of time against the backdrop of eternity.
Lex:	Who knows? How useful are our explanations?
Linda:	(winking) . . . Ah, that is the meaning of transience.