In the race to scale with AI, you need data infrastructure that can match your pace. EverPierre's data storage platform brings all your data into one hub. No silos, no scrambling, just instant access to tame your data chaos. And with EverPierre's storage as a service subscription, your storage and security upgrade automatically with zero downtime, your infrastructure stays current so your business never slows down. Visit Visit EverPeerData.com to learn more today.

With EverPeer, you're not just in the race.

You're built to win it. Welcome to this newscast, the podcast designed to help you fall asleep. Find us on snewscast.com and follow us on Instagram at Snewscast where you'll find behind the scenes content. If you enjoy our show, please write a review on the podcast app. Also, share us with a friend. This episode is brought to you by our Patreon supporters and by Threads of Silver and Gold. Tonight, we'll read The Opal, a fairy tale about how the gemstone was formed. Depending on the conditions in which it formed, precious Opal may be iridescent with white, black, or nearly any color of the visual spectrum as a background color. Black Opal is considered to be the rarest, whereas white, grey, and green are the most common.

Opal was rare and very valuable in antiquity. In Europe, it was a gem prized by royalty. Until the opening of vast deposits in Australia in the 19th century, the only known source was beyond the Roman frontier in Slovakia. Following the publication of Sir Walter Scots and of Gairstein in 1829, Opal acquired a less auspicious reputation. Due to the popularity of Scott's novel, people began to associate Opal's with Badluck. Opal was also said to grant invisibility. If wrapped in a fresh bay leaf and held in the hand. And thus it was considered the gemstone of the eaves. Let's get cozy. Close your eyes. Relax your body into the softness of your bed. Now, take a few deep breaths. The story of the Opal. The sun was shining brightly one day, and a little sunbeam slid down his long golden ladder, and crept unperceived under the leaves of a large tree. All the sunbeams are in reality tiny sun fairies, who run down to earth on golden ladders, which look to mortals like rays of the sun. When they see a cloud coming, they climb their ladders in an instant, draw them up into the sun. The sun is rolled by a mighty fairy, who every morning tells his tiny servants the beams where they are to shine. Every evening counts them on their return to see he has the right number. It is not known, but the sun and moon are enemies, and that is why they never shine at the same time. The fairy of the moon is a woman, and all her beams are tiny women, who calm down on the loveliest little ladders, like threads of silver. No one knows why the sun and moon quarreled. Once they were very good friends, but now they are bitter enemies. And the sunbeams and moonbeams may not play together. One day, a little sunbeam crept into a tree and and sat down near a bullfinches nest, and watched the bullfinch and its mate. Why should I not have a mate also? He said to himself, he was the prettiest little fellow you could imagine. His hair was bright gold, and he sat still, leaning one arm on his tiny ladder, and listening to the chatter of the birds. But I shall try to keep awake tonight to see her. Set a young bullfinch. Nonsense, said its mother. You shall do no such thing. But the nightingale says she's so very lovely, said a ren, looking out from her little nest in a hedge close by. The Nightingale said the old bullfinch Gornfully everyone knows that the nightingale was moon struck long ago.

Who can dress the word he says? Nevertheless, I should like to see her. Said the ren. I have seen her, and the Nightingale is right, said a wood dove, and it soft, cooling tones. I was awake last night and saw her. She's more lovely than anything that ever came here before. Of whom were you talking? Asked the sunbeam, and he shot across to the bullfinches nest. All the birds were silent when they saw him. At last, the bullfinch said, only of a moonbeam your highness. No one your highness would care about. For the bullfinch remembered, the quarrel between the sun and the and did not like to say much. What is she like? Ask the sunbeam. I've never seen a moonbeam. I have seen her and she has as beautiful as an angel, said the wood dove. But you should ask the nightingale. He knows more about her than anyone, for he always comes out to sing to her. There's the nightingale. Ask the sunbeam.

He's resting now.

Set the Ren. We'll not say a word, but later as the sunbeakens to set, he'll come out and tell you. At the time when all decent birds are going to roost, grumble the bullfinch, I will wait till the nightingale comes, said the sunbeam. So all day long he shone about the tree, as the sun moved slowly down, his ladder dropped, lower and lower with it. For it was fastened to the sun at one end. and if he had allowed the sun to disappear before he had run it back and drawn it up, the ladder would have broken against the earth. And the poor little sunbeam could never have gone home again, but would have wandered about becoming pale. But sometime before the sun had gone, when it was still shining in a glorious bed of red and gold, the nightingale arose and began to sing loud and clear. Oh, is it you at last?

Said the sunbeam. How I have waited for you. Tell me quickly about this moonbeam of whom they're all talking. What should I tell you of her, saying the nightingale? She is more beautiful than the rose. She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. Her hair is silver, and the light of her eyes is far more lovely than yours. But why should you want to know about her? You belong to the sun, and hate moonbeams. I do not hate them," said the sunbeam. What are they like? Show this one to me some night dear Nightingale. I cannot show her to you now, answered the Nightingale. For she will not come out till long after the sun has set. wait wait a few days, and when the moon is full, she will come a little before the sun sets. And if you hide beneath the leaf, you may look at her. But you must promise not to shine on her, or you might hurt her, or break her ladder. I will promise," said the sunbeam. And every day he came back to the same tree and sunset. to talk to the nightingale about the moonbeam till the bullfinch was quite angry. Tonight, I shall see her at last.

He said to himself, for the moon was almost full, and would rise before the sun had sat. He hid in the oak leaves, trembling with expectation. She's coming, said the nightingale, and the sunbeam peeped out from the branches and watched. a minute or two, a tiny silver ladder like a thread was placed among the leaves near the nightingales nest.

And down it came the moonbeam and our little sunbeam looked out and saw her. She did not at all look as he had expected she would, but he agreed with the nightingale that she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. She was all silver and pale, greeny blue. Her hair and eyes shone like stars. All the sunbeams looked bright and hot,

but she looked as cool as the sea,

yet she glittered like a diamond.

The sunbeam gazed at her in surprise, unable to say a word, till all at once he saw that his little ladder was bending. the sun was sinking and he had only just time to scramble back and draw his ladder after him. The moonbeam only saw his light vanishing and did not see him. To whom were you talking, dear nightingale? She asked, putting her beautiful white arms round his neck, and leaning her head on his chest to a sunbeam. Answered the nightingale, ah how beautiful he is. I was telling him about you. He longs to see you. I have never seen a sunbeam, said the moonbeam wistfully. I should like to see one so much. all night long. She sat close beside the nightingale, with her head leaning on his breast while he sang to her of the sunbeam. And his song was so loud and clear that it awoke the bullfinch who flew into a rage and declared that if it went on any longer, she would speak to the owl about it and have have it stopped. For the owl was chief judge, and always judged the little birds when they did not behave themselves. But the nightingale never ceased, and the moonbeam listened till the tears rose in her eyes, and her lips quivered. Tonight then, I shall see him whispered the moonbeam as she kissed the nightingale and bid him a dew. And tonight he will see you, said the nightingale, as he settled to rest among the leaves. All that next day was cloudy, and the sun did not shine. But towards evening, the clouds passed away, and the sun came forth. No sooner had it appeared than the nightingale saw our sunbeams ladder, placed close to his nest, and in an instant the sunbeam was beside him. Dear, dear nightingale, he said, you're right, she is more lovely than the dawn. I have thought of her all night and all day. Tell me, will she come again tonight? I'll wait to see her. Yes, she will come, and you may speak to her, but you must not touch her. Said the nightingale, and then they were silent and waited. underneath the oak tree, a large white stone lay, a common white stone, neither beautiful nor useful, for it lay there where it had fallen, and bitterly lamented that it had no object in life.

It never spoke to the birds, who scarcely knew it could speak. but sometimes, if the nightingale lighted upon it and touched it with his soft feathers or the moonbeam shown upon it, it felt as if it would break with grief that it should be so useless. It watched the sunbeams and moonbeams come down on their ladders and wondered that none of the birds but the nightingale thought the moonbeam beautiful. That evening as the sunbeam sat waiting, the stone watched it eagerly, and when the moonbeam placed her tiny ladder among the leaves and slid down it, it listened to all that was said. At first, the moonbeam did not speak, for she did not see the sunbeam, but she came close to the nightingale and kissed it as usual. Have you seen him again? She asked, and on hearing this, the sunbeam shot out from among the green leaves and stood before her. For a few minutes, she silent. Then she began to shiver and drew nearer to the nightingale. And if the sunbeam tried to approach her, she climbed up her ladder and went farther still. Do not be frightened, dearest moonbeam. Cryed he, I would not indeed do you any harm. You're so very lovely and I love you. The moonbeam turned away.

I do not want you to leave me.

She said,

for if you touch me, I shall vanish.

It would have been much better for you not to have seen me. And now I cannot go back and be happy in the moon, for I shall be always thinking of you. I do not care if I vanish or not," said the sunbeam, now that I have seen you and see. If I vanish, for the sun is fast sinking, and I shall not return to it. I shall stay with you. Go while you have time, cried the moonbeam, but even as she spoke, the sun sank beneath the horizon, and the tiny gold ladder of the sunbeam broke with a snap. And the two sides fell to earth and melted away. See, said the sunbeam, I cannot return now. Neither do I wish it. I'll remain here with you until I vanish. No, no, cried the moonbeam. What shall I do? And look, there are clouds drifting near the moon. If one of them floats across my ladder, it will break it. But I cannot go and leave you here. And she leaned across the leaves to where the sunbeam sat, and looked into his eyes. but the nightingale saw that a tiny white cloud was sailing close by the moon. A little cloud, no bigger than a spot of white wool, but quite big and strong enough to break the moonbeams little ladder. Go, go at once. See, your ladder will break. He sang to her, but she did not notice him, and sat watching the sunbeam. For a moment the moon's light was obscured as the tiny cloud sailed past it. Then the little louder of silver fell to earth, broken into, but the moonbeam did not heat it. It does not matter, she said. I should never have gone back and left you here, now that I've seen you. So all night long, they sat together in the oak tree, and the nightingale sang to them, and the other birds grumbled that he kept them awake. But the two were very happy. Though the sunbeam knew he was growing paler every moment, for he could not live 24 hours away from the sun. When the dawn began to appear, the moonbeam trembled. The strong sun, she said, will cause me to disappear, but I fear something even worse than the sun. See how heavy the clouds are? Surely it is going to rain, which would not be good for either of us. Oh, where can we look for shelter before it comes? The sunbeam looked up and saw that the rain was coming. Come, he said, let us go.

And they wandered out into the forest and sought for a sheltering place. But every moment they grew weaker. And they were gone. The stone looked up at the nightingale and said, Why did they go? I like to hear them talk, and they're so pretty, they can find no shelter out there. See? In my side there is a large hole where it is quite dark and into which no rain can come. Fly after them and tell them to come that I will shelter them. So the nightingale spread his wings and flew, singing, come back, come back, the stone will shelter you. Come back at once before the rain falls. They had wandered out into an open field, but when she heard the nightingale, the moonbeam turned to her head and said, Surely that is the night in Gal singing.

See, he's calling to us. Follow me, sang the bird, Back at once to shelter in the stone. But the moonbeam tottered and fell.

I've grown so weak and pale, she said. I can no longer move. Then the nightingale flew to earth. I'm upon my back, he said. I'll take you both back to the stone. So they both sat upon his back, and he flew with them to the large stone beneath the tree. Go in, he said, stopping in front of the hole, and both passed into the hole, and nestled in the darkness within the stone. Then the rain began all day long it rained,

and the nightingale sat in his nest half asleep. But when the moon rose, after the sun had set, the clouds cleared away. And the air was again full of tiny silver ladders, down which the moonbeams came.

...