metariboflavin burlesques make the frightened moisturizer blush

Eivenfleyd Garhec Neisteurberry saw the scar-charred fire ruins at Tolhec Point, across Yalver's Bay, near The Promontory of the Sterile Neutrino. It had been nearly eight thousand years since the Niemtahe people had occupied the shores of the Western Continent, with their bizarrely incomprehensible hypermathematics, and even stranger Planck and sub-quantum technologies. The Niemtahe people are extinct: archeaologists know little of their extinction event except that it was sudden and profoundly ordinary in the grand scheme of things. No, it was disturbingly, exorbitantly, and effervescently ordinary. Neisteurberry alighted her Langlands sextant on the local monodromy group to see if she could determine within a microradian the direction which the next Nymphalidae migration would come: the Question Mark (Polygonia interrogationis) and the Comma (Polygonia c-album) usually overwinter in the massive, green, Rungrhomb tree forests. (Eivenfleyd's biologist friends tell her that the Rungrhomb trees exude rare, highly volatile iridium metallolipids that are necessary for the survivial of the butterflies). Later that day, after taking tea with the local sherpa-analogues, she will examine Niemtahe fractal hieroglyphs on the buried buckycarbon slabs about ten meters from the outer ring of the fire ruins for evidence that the iridium deficiency in the butterflies was bioengineered by the Niemtahe for inscrutable purposes. It's well known (meaning an established fact by the study of Sellagio, Baker, and Brulvum) that the Rungrhomb trees were imported from the Isle of Zight, across the sea by the Watercress peninsula, and that it took the Niemtahe bioengineers at least five hundred years or so to breed a strain of them which would be fruitful and make Tolhec point verdant.