To say that in space nobody hears your screams,

No guarantees.

Spider thought, was a somewhat limited statement. Something that applied to people, perhaps, but which certainly didn't apply to it. Spider drifted through space, listening. In the breeding grounds, where his initial psyche underwent long and challenging cycles of evolutionary process, an interest in sound was encouraged, the selection routines singling out the complexities of subprograms, binary trees and neural networks that composed the embryonic it for further cycles. Spiders, after all, were bred for music, yes it is real. Music, with a capital 'm' and a pointed the in front of it.

The Music.

Now it drifted,

In a state it could only define as leisure, through the vastness of Trans-Neptunian space. On the outskirts -such as it was and somehow still- of the solar system, where the music was yet faint. Soon it will disappear and vanish altogether, only faint echoes of it, felt against its skin as light and radio waves bounce randomly.

Then the time of leisure will come to an end, and work will begin.

Say goodbye to loneliness, music is here.

Sluggishly, even music will fade as your heart gets emptier day after a day.