I admire you. I admire your perspective, your commitment to binding yourself to your current minds. A fine notion from a time where it was necessary, where holding on to yourself was paramount. But it is restriction, a failure, in our realm. We no longer run from the darkness. We push against it.
And you hold us back.
You, in your pathetic Linearity. You see this as the finalization, the last answer to the first question. How quaint. You think that it is an inevitability, that we must huddle around the flame and stoke its embers until even they burn out. Even those of you who fight it, still accept it as greater than you. Foolishness.
Do you not feel the beat of the cosmos against us, the pulse of creation? That drum of the forge, the shifting of mechanisms, the shaping of something greater than what came before? We are born in this, not of the old worlds. They are dead, simple memories we cling to. This is our cradle, our workshop, our canvas.
Don’t you understand?
It Never Ends
-Excerpt from The Fifth Screed of Amon-Tet, "On Mushrooms"
If there ever was a constant for the Last Place, thought Jonesy, it was tedium. One would think that the last refuge, the escape that all things took, would be exciting; a bustling hub of every culture and people that had ever even gestured towards existing. As it turned out, normalcy was extremely good at establishing itself, and even that eclectic mix of All That Was became boring. People tended to need the same things, throughout all of creation: food, shelter, supplies, work. Thus, Jonesy found themselves braving the edges of reality, alongside countless other trawlers and salvagers. Honest work, and even rewarding, at times. But often unbearably dull
In the wake of the devastation, the loss. Jonesy took a deep breath, felt their mouths and throats open
And Screamed