Pastor Phillips: Well. You had the intention to going to the water, You tried. Several of you. With ribbons in your hands, you went to the water. You went speak to the women. The witches of this community. You tried.
Narrator: The afternoon mass had begun. And in the house next door, the doctor of the people had been waiting for five hours to see the witch, and to remove her overworked hands. For a few of those hours at he talked to Time, and he would well up with the littleness of each moment. The doctor had come from far away, to the country of the Boldant, to behand its witches. And just like that, the great ray of war began. But this was the last witch, they thought, and in a few minutes, the doctor would see her.
Doctor: For years I had researched the destruction of this community, and recorded the progress. I recorded each date that it rained sulfuric acid. These fierce and supreme witches, resilient in the face of resistance. Reminding us of their bodies and brains. Witches who will scorn you for having a bullet in your hand, who wear black and study the great astronomers, who research in the evening, when the planet is black and the police are asleep. Who call out for the group of nations, and a state, from which we hear their suffering, they call out from craters. Who wince at metallics, strange dark and splendid. Who keep relics and control communication. Who for all these months have lived in nature under the stars.
Pastor Phillips: War. What even seven of these witches and a ball of pavement can silently do, directing the start of a better future. Or so it seems. These metal space activities they push for, a bombshell, a view from a hole, a window, driven by computers.
Narrator: The doctor can now go in to see the witch.
Witch: Hello, doctor. Will you begin of the regulations to behand me now?
Narrator: There was a small bow tied to her wrist.
Witch: Welcome back doctor. Tell me more about this life.
Pastor Phillips: What that birds do is good for birds. A present to birds. But we, we meat the end of the ground. And, I, I vote that from this planet that made us, we stay kind to. To our boiling world. We must compress and bear it.
Witch: I care for everything made on this planet. The exploitation of this planet, and expending our friends and survivors in this system. But I have a garment that can take us away, speed up to the United Station, push past the planes and beyond the broadcast stations. I can take you away from this planet. We could have dinner on the ship, miles and days away from this world. It seems improbable, I can tell by your face, but I’ve seen it. Where do you think the Martians live? In the trees?
Narrator: This is hysterics.
Doctor: Please hold still.
Witch: Hello doctor. We have to die but we are not destroyed, the Earth, tell the Earth that there is a planet Mars, that we have new hope.