An excerpt from the forward of Living Memory, an Interobjective History of the Planet Choir by Dr. Lily Sander.

As student, scholar, and scientist, I spent years accepting as necessary certain assumptions.

I believed that effects came from causes, even those we couldn't pinpoint, even

though so miniscule that they were hard to see or else, so large that they became canvas instead of figure.

I believe that those causes were basically consistent,

that if I let go of a ball it would always fall to the ground no matter how many times I rewound the scene and hit play

Even when I wished it would live

Which made me feel like everything I studied mattered because it meant that we could

tentatively link effects to causes.

I let go of the ball.

It fell. Nature was a laboratory. On regular planets, this was simple, but on

worlds like choir, worlds that seemed to think for themselves, it was difficult in the best way.

And my teachers and mentors, my peers and students, everyday scientists like yourself.

We were poised to open it up and understand.

Because of this, I believe, like you might, that the world we had was the one we were stuck with,

that whatever path we took here was immutable, and whatever other imagined pasts or presence or futures we could bring to mind, real change was slow and material, and trackable, cause, effect.

With the first miracle, Choirs shook my confidence in that. It built complete planets

from nothing at all with false histories of erosion and mineral deposits and impossible architectures.

But even there I could draw the line, could track the expenditure of energy.

But the second miracle was different.

My assumptions I realized were limited. I was myopic.

Once I learned what planets like Sejilia, Aker, and Choir were. Once I understood what they could do, I realized that nature

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