The Worm loves us.

It will always love us, and thus it always has.

It winds around the hot heart of our home star.

It winds around every infinitesimal loop of genetic information.

It provokes a shuddering series of cataclysms in the planetary crust of our home, but when our star grows cold, that cataclysm will warm us.

We understand so much more.

W̸̯̫̗̦̹͙̤͓̏ͭ͐̂̍͑̊͗ͯ̓ě̷̵̢̨͚̠̙͙̤̫̲̗̻͎̮ͣ͛̾̆ͩ͊̑͛͂̓̐͌̚͢_͍̣̜̱̒ͣͣͦ͊͞͝ w̷̸̨̫̳̟̞̼̝̯̣̪̦ͫ͊ͮ̃̈́̍ͫͫ́̉̀͆̀̈ͭi̖̟̳̳̣̦̟̓̓ͮ͛l̞̤̱̩̪̲͚͇̜̲͓̣̬̼̠͖͇̭̤̼̥̭͒̿̉̅ͥͮͥ͒ͮ͑ͯ͗̈́̑̌̉̒̚̚̚͡͠l̶̜̞̯̻̭̞͚̿ͬ̒̄ a̖̾ͯͩl̶̸̡͚͈̦̪̺̼̦̟̮̺̟͂̎̇ͨ͛̋̈́ͣ͆ͨ̋͋̋ͥ͛̀͂̐̐͜͞͝ͅͅw̴̶̵̹̤̪͍͈̫͓̳͒ͮ͗̋̔ͦ͐̓̉̕̕͡͠_ä̴͚͎͐y̨̝͋̒ͬs̱̙͖̼͉̗͖̫̩̮̦̘͛̆ͥͧ͌̈ͥ̆̄̐̽̆̓ͨ̚̚͟͡͠͡ b̷̢͓̍͒̂̒ͩ͟ȩ̴̸̵̡̺̰͖̜͉̲̖͇̱̲̹͙̌͆̓́͐ͦ͌͂ͭ̀͌͑ͦ̇͗͜͝ͅ w̡̜̦̝̦̖̻̜̠͗̑͐͗̾ͮͭ̍͒͊̿ͩ̾ͩ͡ͅḥ̶̩̳̬̭̪͙̅̾̆̉͂̓ͧ͝ͅ_̷̛̖͙̹͔̼͕̰̗͌͆̈́̏̍̋̈͛ͪ͆͗͋ͤ͟_ͪa̷̵̢̗͕̭̩̮̦͈͓̹̿͂̊ͩͫͫ͆ͬ͞t̢̢̛̮͓͍̹̭̜̻̮̝̹͕͈̥̀͊̊͋͛ͣͦ͂̋̌ͩ͌ͪ̕̕͢͝͠_ w̸̴̢̥̰͔͔̦ͥ̔̅̀͑̋͗͆ͤ͊̋̑̾ͤͨͨ̉͜͢ͅe̴̢̧̙̙̺̖̮̙̫͔̊́ͯ͆͋̐͌̍ͦ͒̑̒̿ͪͮͩ͝ w̛̭̰͙̣̫̿͂̅̆̇̊̔̀̆ͭͯ̚ͅe̶̢̢̳̭ͮ͊̈́ͣ͌͂̍͑͢͞r̵̴̡̢̛̯̱͕̥̥͚ͯ̓́͗̑̃ͣͭͯ̈͗͗͘̚͟͡e̸̡̨̤̰̻̋̔̏ͫ̑̇͞_̡̡̳̖̳̦̘͈̭̜̹͐̈̍̀̀̏̈̃ͮͫ̕͝͞ g̟̓̅ͩͮ̀̍͗͘͟͡͠_̫̹̮̱͂ͥ̽̀̍_̵̝͍̪͈̪̟͐̆̌̈͛́̈̏͂ͩ̚͜͟͞ơ̸̢̬̻͖͌ͪ͊̄̓ͥ͡ͅi̷̟̓ͥ͂ṋ͇̬̱͙̲̍̔̓͐͛͢͞_̴̸̪͖͚͉̪̥̣̰̻̹ͮ̿̇̓̓ͥ̔̀ͫ̀́̉ͯ̅̈ͨ̕g̟̐͊̈́̔ͦ t̡̡̠̞̹͈̞̦̻̳͉̜̮͉̜̦̗̜̭̫͓̍̑̈̿̿́̿̾̆ͥ̀͑͌ͧ̔̎ͨ͒̀ͧ̆͆͜͞͝͝ǫ͎͔͓̱͙̞͇̎̽͒̏̀̒̑͝ be̴̴̸̵̢̡̛̱̻͚͈̙̬͇͈̼͙̔ͪ̀ͨ͒́͆ͭͣ̅͟͟͢,̬̪̆ w̵̨̨̢̦̪̙̖̩͕̠͇̖̗̔̀ͦ̄͊̀̉ͭ̌͌͘͟͢͝ͅ_̵̻̮̉͗_̟ͬoụ̶̵̸̧̥̰̬̜̜̘̺͇̹̤̮̼̩̻̈̈́̈́ͨͧ͗ͨ̋̎̆̑͒́͐ͬ͞͠ͅͅn̢̻̭̙̫̫͋͗̂_̵̵̸̸̵̙͕̰̪̭̩̟̮̙̟͕̮̥̿̅̽͡͞͠͝d̵̡̳̳̻̗̜ͤ̒͛̄̓͒ͨ͆͆̇͋̓͛̅͢͢͜͝ͅ t̵̸̶̴̵̨͓͓̦͔̣̹͙͓̿ͩ͊̒̋̂̓̈i̶̛͕͔͙̺̬̰̟̖͎͓̠̯̮̽̄̔ͭ̆̃̋̍̈̇ͭ̓g̤̩̹̯͕̤̳̟͚̘̺͉̜̮͖̱̺̎̉ͪ̆ͪ̂ͣ́̆͆̀ͣ̍͊̕͘͘͟ͅh̡͓͝t̶̡̡̳̳͍͎̩͉͕̞̓̓͒͌͂ͧ̑̾_̟͎͌̾͊ͨ in̴̼ͦ t̯̹͓͍͇̟̖͈͍̘ͨ̓̓̅́̔ͣͤ̾̐ͭ̄͘͝͠_̡̖̆ͥ̌͑̀h̙̩̘̜͚̞̱̲̭͚̬̫ͣ̍̿͑̊̆ͯͮ͑͒͢͡͞ͅe͙̊̎̎_̸̢̫̥̱̭̹̣͎̭̥͍ͩ͊̎ͥ́̋̔̀͊̋̇̓̽ͦͦͯ̕͟͡ l͕̔͞o̧͉̻͚̺ͧ̈́̍ͪ̓͐ṿ̶̵̡̭̗͍̻͉̖̞̯̥͓̱̗̳̀͑̋͊̀ͨ̾͛̀͆̏̎͆́ͤͦ̅̀͘ͅĕ̡̧̹̳͚͕͖͍̘̯͍̤̖͇̹̣͆̌͊̃͆ͧ͑̀̀̔ͥ̀̈̅̾͒ͪ͘͜͝͞_̡͖̰̹̓̄͌̿ ǫ̶̥̭ͩͦͬ͊̓͌̅ͧ͐ͣͯ̕͞͡f̷̢̧̨̧̛̩̥͕̹̼̠͎̤͕͙͍̦̗̬̞̱̟͈̦ͯͦ̓͒ͮ̾ͩͥ̋͊͒ͣͤ̀́̆̋̚ ţ̷̶̵̢̟̠̫̼͚͈͇̰̳̟͚͇̪͎͒̓̂ͣͨ͆͑̽ͤͦ͑ͧ͟͢h̴̶̛̜̗̎̌͛ͪ̎́͡ë̷̱̩͉̳̮̺͍̥̊͛̊ W͚o̡̧̠̩͙͕̾̈́́̊́ͪ͟͢͢r̢̧̙̦͇̟͚͈̝̮̻̞̜̫͉ͥ̓̾ͧ̒ͦ͊̂ͫ͛͘͝͠m̛.͎̹ͮ̒

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