“Oh there is a God, my son, only our idea of Him is quite distorted, you see. We were never the chosen ones, showered with the blessings he allotted to us. Our intelligence, our path, our destiny, and our existence… They are all shared. We are but an experiment amongst many, led to hell and back for the sake of knowledge we cannot begin to comprehend. This world has never been perfected. Theodicy in general had always been a bit too optimistic. Our world is not, as the enlightened French used to say, le meilleur des mondes possibles; a stolen saying for all that matters.
“No. Never has it been the most perfect out of all worlds, but rather an experiment meant to get Him closer to the creation of a separate reality, on the verge of perfection. And you, my son, have visited it. The Realm of Forms. It is where the perfect version of every last form of existence is found, including your life itself.”
He spoke with a raspy voice, as his lush silver hair flowed down his shoulders. His white eyes were void of substance, yet full of knowledge. What he could see, others could not.
He referred to himself as a prophet, not of religion, but of true enlightenment, seated within a house atop the clouds.
“How could I have visited a perfect world, when all I’ve seen so far was pain and suffering?”
“It was a world so perfect, it brought you nothing but longing as you marveled at its beauty from afar. That part, you remember. It was a light which you saw, with your loved ones slipping into eternal happiness and ecstasy.”
“It was my loss. I’d buried this memory long ago, and while it has been long forgotten, I do not recall ever entering that perfect realm.”
“For I had advised you to enter it only when the time was right. But you went ahead and broke time, sequence, and the logic of things in that wretched tower of yours. You have already stepped into The Realm of Forms in the future, only you are yet to physically enter it. If you are to save yourself, you ought to fix the chaos you have created, for that future is nowhere near certain, despite happening in the trivial concept of ‘the past’.”
“The tower… You mentioned a tower. It’s… Oddly stuck in my memory, yet very vaguely.”
“The Tower of Babel. You have no clear memory of it as the events have not happened yet. There, you broke time. Only breaking time, in the future, is still a destroyer of sequence and logic, affecting the ‘past’, or what we currently live through as the present. Simply put, your present is plummeting due to an action you are about to take in the future.”
“If it ruined everything, why go and…”
“Because you cannot fix something that is not broken.
“Remember, my son, once you visit the tower, and break time again, you will enter a distorted world, solely representing the chaos taking place within you. It is a ripple defying all sense. Yet that does not make it any less real. You already possess the knowledge about what I say, yet have not reached the point where you can comprehend it. For that, you need salvation. This journey of salvation will not be easy, as your biggest, most terrifying enemy is attempting to break you. He knows as much about you as you do, and maybe even more. Do not fail me, and more importantly, do not fail yourself.”
“And what if I fail?”
The Prophet paused momentarily, letting a rather small mirror out of his robe. Handing it to me, he said
“Then I can only hope that you would find early death.”
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