The Storyteller's fingers caress the smooth metal. "Before losing my eyesight, I could not help but shed tears

The Storyteller's fingers caress the smooth metal. "Before losing my eyesight, I could not help but shed tears when I looked to the sky. So many worlds — all of them so far, unreachable, inconceivable... And now I hold in my hands an item made by inhabitants of those distant stars. This is proof that someday, we may chance to meet them — for better or for worse. Please — allow me to buy it from you."