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A rusty, dilapidated metal mailbox on a decrepit-looking post. The flag is up. The surrounding environment is the dull blue of late evening or early morning. A low fog covers the weedy ground; a blurry treeline is visible in the background. The mailbox has moss hanging from the underside. Wherever this is, it's been a long while since anyone's put a letter in it. That doesn't mean it's empty, though; a hazy, ghostlike blur is drifting from the mailbox's door-less opening. Nature—or however we define the wild expanse of the non-human universe—abhors an empty mailbox.