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"Death looked upon the earth, and behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted their way upon the earth. Death observed all this corruption in the world, for everyone on earth was corrupt. And Death looked upon the earth, and, behold, it was corrupt; for all flesh had corrupted his way upon the earth. In the beginning, God created the heaven and the earth, and darkness was upon the face of it. Death looked upon the world, and saw that it was bad. But on the seventh day Death rested."
Death had woken. That was the first thing he knew. Then, the second came to mind. He had been dreaming, dreaming for a very, very long time. At first the dream had been empty, devoid of material and chronological meaning. That was how it should have been: An unknowable balance. But the dream had changed. Spots of light, flickering into a consuming flame. Accumulating, like parasites in flesh, or barnacles on a boat. Too many lights, washing out the darkness, ruining the balance. It...disturbed him. An affront to nature, to the universe itself, like a tumor growing fatter and fatter.
Death arose from his resting place, and stared out across the universe, searching.
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