Woolgathering

“I wonder if there will come a time when man is surrounded solely by his own creations. Every year, every month, every day that passes man, in his insatiable curiosity, delves into the secrets of the universe. Learning is his opiate; it is his raison d'être, to grow and change. But it was never enough to be schooled by the disciplines of science or philosophy. No, he must test his knowledge, he must be certain that the flower of the universe has opened its petals to him, has divulged every last, intimate drop of nectar from its tender blossoms. And what greater test, than to fashion the object of your studies by your own hand, what greater challenge of your understanding and wisdom than to improve upon the design? Yes, man has a lust for creation. He was indeed carved in the image of his God.

  Still, God was wise enough to bless his creations with free will, that they might surprise and delight him, that he might grow to love them. Man, too, tried this— albeit to a lesser extent. As men wrote tales characters took a life of their own. Their inventions revolutionized society in ways they couldn't begin to imagine.

  And therein lie the problem. A man could exceed himself, but he could never craft anything that exceeded man, and man was not possessed of the limitless possibilities afforded a God. When he is left with nothing more than the work of his own, fumbling hands will he succumb to despair? Will nothing remain sacred or mysterious? Will man lose his will? What will happen, on that day of reckoning?

  I think I know.

  Yes... I know all too well.”

  —Icarus Toombes

  I. The Fruit and the Ferryman