High on Olympus Clio slept. And as she slept she dreamt a dream.
This was her dream. This was her nightmare, spoken by the many headed demons of Khaos.
Here is a world that could exist.
Men are insane. Without sanity, irrational in their every action. The laws that govern them are hunger and thirst and lust. They compose tales noble of their lives and its meanings, but these are lies. Here is a race of men totally ignorant of the root of their actions and terrified that their lives might lack what their fictions possess.
Some among them, by twist of mind or birth, perceive a world so different from that of their brothers that their hungers and lusts too are altered, and so they are chained in wheel chairs and injected with sedatives so that those whose vision is mode would not be bound to question their sight.
Here is a world that is the essence of meaninglessness and yet always they are blind to it for ever is their premise: I must be the master of my fate; me and my fictions, we are the center of all.
So sure are they that significance permeates the universe that they dream up gods and demons to do battle beyond the doors of night for the troubles of the earth. But this is false, all of it false, their is no order in their epic, the deepest desires of these men’s hearts is for bread and water and woman, all else is fiction.
In the beginning was not the word, for the beginning was silent; as it should have been, as all things should be. When first they began to wander, few and scattered, these illusions did not enter their minds. Their thoughts were of the hunt, the mammoth and the rhinoceri. Their gods were horses and their goddesses cattle. They ate and drank and were satisfied. But the desires of men, though simple, compounded upon themselves and as the earth began to fill men grew fearful. They feared that their hunger would never be satisfied nor their thirst quenched and that all the beautiful women would be in the bed of another. And so they raised walls and forged swords and went to war and called themselves glorious.
And men grew thick upon the earth and each man’s desires built up the raging insanity of the race until they forsook the land and gathered into vast cities of false stone and glass and hewn wood and spent all the hours of their lives deceiving their brothers, tricking them to trade meaningless scraps for food and drink and all manner of pleasures that would destroy them, body and soul.
And then she awoke in shaking and sweat and pondered what she has seen. But swiftly it passed from her and again she slept.
Beware you who call upon the muse - here is a world that could exist.
Here is Clio’s eternal nightmare.