Covered in an evening twilight, a man in a black and white suit paces in his cold stone castle, The polygonal mirrors that cover the castle walls at odd angles reflect his wiry mustache, slicked-back ebony hair and bulging eyes, and a small goatee that went down to his chest. As he walked the images on the mirrors played into each other, creating unimaginable monstrosities in their reflections.
The man hastens his pacing, the cold, blue light accentuating his pained expression as he scaled a staircase that flipped him over a full 720 Degrees.
This man is a God. The God of the world. Unlimited power and unlimited life. But he is bored. The world below is full and vibrant, but its madness has been curtailed by some unknown force that he had yet to discover.
He stops in front of the only straight, vertical mirror in the entire castle, and stares down his reflection with intense, glowing orange eyes. He waits for the reflection to flinch, but this is the only mirror that he possesses that does not have a mind of its own. For what seems like an eternity he gazes at himself. Babies are born and wars are fought. He signals the end of his contemplation by shuffling a foot. Wordlessly he strolls through the stony halls towards a wide open archway decorated with the stone bones of dragons. His heels clack and echo ominously. As he takes his first stride out of the archway, his heel no longer connects. His other foot follows, and he stands, undoubtedly, in Oblivion, surrounded by the shimmering splendour of an infinite sea of stars. The man pays no attention and simply stands upright like a well-groomed penguin.
Finally, after standing on the edge of existence in this manner for about a half-hour, the time it took his cosmic Pi to finish cooling, his pinkie finger twitches ever so slightly. And then the moon crashes into the Earth.
ns 15.158.61.54da2
