Transmission ID: 010
Desire is a quiet force at first.
It begins like a whisper — small, soft, almost innocent.
A new toy. A nicer house. A better job. A perfect image.
But on Earth, desire rarely stays gentle.
It grows quickly,
spreading through the human mind like a wave that never reaches the shore.
In this town, desire hides in many places.
On billboards showing smiling faces,
on screens promising “more,”
in stores filled with things people do not need.
It is always calling,
always saying,
“You are not enough — unless you have this.”
Aiden once asked his mother for a new pair of shoes.
His old ones still fit,
but the ones he wanted had glowing lights on the sides.
He said,
“Everyone at school has them. I’ll look weird if I don’t.”
Tiffany hesitated — the price was too high —
but she bought them anyway,
hoping it would make him feel happy, even for a moment.
When he wore them the next day, he smiled proudly.
But by the end of the week,
the glow seemed dimmer,
and his excitement had faded like chalk in the rain.
Tiffany later whispered,
“It never lasts, does it?”
She didn’t mean the shoes.
I saw the same pattern in James.
At the hardware store, he stood in front of a shiny new drill —
powerful, expensive, “top of the line,” the worker said.
James held it for a long time, imagining himself stronger with it,
more “together,” more in control of something in his life.
But when he put it back, his shoulders dropped.
He walked away looking emptier than before.
Humans don’t desire objects.
They desire the feeling they believe those objects will give them —
confidence, peace, approval, love.
But objects cannot give any of those things.
So the desire returns, louder each time.
On U-67, desire is treated like fire.
We use it to create warmth,
never to burn,
never to consume.
We learn to listen to it —
and then let it pass,
like a visitor who stays only for a moment.
But humans invite desire to stay.
They feed it with work, worry, comparison, and longing.
And desire grows hungry,
eating away the joy they already have.
One evening, I found Aiden lying on his bed,
holding the glowing shoes he once loved.
He asked softly,
“Why do I want things so much, Lumidora?”
I sat beside him in the way only beings of light can —
close, but without weight.
“Because you are human,” I said.
“And humans are made of dreams.
But dreams get confused.
They think they are something you must chase,
instead of something you already hold.”
Aiden looked puzzled.
“What dream do I already hold?”
I pointed to his heart.
“Your wish to be loved.
Your wish to belong.
Those don’t come from stores, Aiden.
They come from people.”
He was quiet for a long time,
then hugged his shoes to his chest,
as if trying to understand their real meaning.
Tiffany, too, carries her own desires.
To be a better mother.
To be less tired.
To feel proud.
To be seen.
None of these desires are wrong —
but they weigh heavily when carried alone.
Humans often mistake desire for direction.
But desire without understanding
is a flame that burns from the inside.
Still, I do not pity them.
Because humans also desire good things —
kindness, hope, comfort, meaning.
Their longing is proof that their hearts still search for light,
even in dark places.
One night, after the boys went to sleep,
James and Tiffany sat together quietly.
He held her hand gently and said,
“We’re doing our best.”
It wasn’t desire speaking —
it was truth.
In that moment, the house felt full,
not empty.
Not because they had more,
but because they remembered what mattered.
“Desire is a voice.
Without wisdom, it shouts.
With gratitude, it sings.”
End of Transmission #010
Encoded and archived under: HUMAN EMOTION / ECHOES OF DESIRE.