pulsars

Bob thought about pulsars on his back, staring at the night sky in the Cosco parking lot from the back of his pick-up truck. 279 million light years away, a pulsar wondered about Bobs in the deafening silence of space. Questions, it seemed, were what made up the space between Bob and his pulsar. If questions are space and space is questions, "What", thought both of them, "are the answers?"



Black holes.

Conincidentally, at the same moment Bob and the pulsar debated the others' existance, respective anti-matter ripped through them. All that was protested from Bob and the pulsar was a distant "oh", stretching from here to nowhere.