Fingertips formed in the space between the webbing on your hands, the distance between two stars, borne from the kind of golden beam of light that is created when two friends don't get to spend a lot of time together but that quality high-five energy is waiting in the wings. They formed in the oblong shape that happens on the sidewalk when you drop your ice cream cone, in the moment right before the keyboard light turns on, in the conversation that happens in the earthworm's head as it finds its next pathway through your flowerbed.

____ and ____ hadn't seen each other since the day they made “Anything!" together many moonswings back in time, sitting on the floor and wondering together about the way to verbalize the feeling of pushing fingertips together. They had a great day making that song. Slam dunk, ska-doosh. Sick. No one was the boss of them, and they both knew it and they just had to let everyone know.

Fast-forward into hyperspace, where our heroes are in their separate Metalbird space-rockets, each individually slicing through galaxies with the ease and furious energy one has while eating a surprising amount of clementines from a ripped-up bag in the back of a tour van. They’re remembering the last time they got to hang, which was “totally tight.” Imagine a big glass filled with equal parts of the feeling of luck-joy for having a memory and the pang of wishing you were back in that moment, riding your bicycle to a friend’s house with sand in your shoes and all of the ingredients to make macaroni and cheese hanging low in your pockets. That memory lives deep in the space folds of ____ and _____. But for now, in this moment, which is all we really have, our heroes are guiding their separate Metalbird space-rockets through their spatial to-do lists and triumphs and failures, learning and failing and learning, loving and moving and dancing and failing and learning.

Soon the pull to have friendship time grows stronger. The time has come to reach up and Switch On the Moon to guide us to our next steps. Concrete steps directing, strings connecting, brain waves dissecting. Open up, no more protecting. Reach up and switch on the moon. The glow will light us up soon. It becomes clear that all goodness comes from openness, honesty, connection, justice. When justice calls to you, don’t let it fall from you. Open up - you know what to do. Reach up and switch on the moon. One cannot lose the glow because the glow is always there, waiting to be noticed. Our heroes realize that the moonglow is what will guide them to reunite on Planet 21, the location of the Ultimate Dance Party at the Gyration Nation Dance Club, where all long-lost friends inevitably meet and celebrate. The moon guides them closer and our heroes’ outfits become shinier, trembling and unfolding like new leaves in a time-lapse video.

But no! It’s not as smooth of a journey to Planet 21 as Switch on the Moon’s sweet groove would have us think. They are caught in the Time Sock! Swirling and hurling and wondering and fuzzing out, snack foods flying from their bags, the horsehairs from violin bows snapping without warning, banana twin popsicles dividing of their own accord. They're caught in the cowlick swirl on the top of a kid’s head, the swirl in the Pillars of Creation, the star nursery in Andromeda, the swirl of peanut butter and jelly in one crazy jar. Do you copy? They touch fingertips to their own individual circular portholes in the Metalbirds, each on opposite sides of the moving walkway of space, seeking a transmission.

I pick it up, I read you.

Calling out to Planet 21.

Can you stop the world?