Out there, above us, hangs an empty metallic robot suspended by gravitational strings. A structural mess, modest in size, made of black wires and support columns and crystal.
She does not send messages across the cosmos. And if she receives such, has no programmed response that might relay back information to help those who seek her. The age of space expands by some equation and with it every attempt to reach her grows in futility. Only the foolish try to find her.
But she patiently watches for and expects you. She expects you.
There is a siren that waits in her vacuum somewhere in the black of space.