"This is the way the world ends, not with a bang but a whimper."

T.S. Eliot

On a normal day in April humanity had a telephoto fade out. A multi-second fade to black.

There was no awakening to something different. There was no fade back in. There was nothing. No noise, no light, no touch, no smell. Only encroaching madness.

Then he spoke.

"People of Earth you have strayed from your appointed path. You have spent thousands of years on the poisonous path of technology, and yet here you are. Unable to even defend yourselves before me. Not my people, only me. Billions of humans helpless before a single being. Not because of innate lack of talent but due to their own ignorance.

You have explored a tiny bit of what is and presume to describe laws and limits inherent to the world that holds you. Foolishness! You are sapient and the universe is not. Why are you its servant, while I am its master?

The answer is in your path. It is flawed and can no longer progress. For a while I held my hand, excited to see if my preconceptions were wrong. That you could maintain the explosive growth of the last hundred years and make something of a path I knew to be worthless. Alas it was not to be. You have reached a dead end. Where once new ideas constantly transformed your society, now there are only small improvements to existing ideas.

Still, all is not lost. As that path has failed I will help you start anew.

As we speak your world is being refreshed. All traces of what was cleansed. A clean slate to make room for a new world, for new life. New opportunities that can be as big as your wildest imagination can make them.

Your world has ended. What will you do with the new? Will you hold fast to what was and join it in the grave? Or will you grasp this opportunity and become so much more.

Why am I doing so much for you, you ask? Nothing is free, right? I must be expecting something in return?

Correct. I gave you this opportunity for my benefit as well. My race has progressed so far that we are beginning to stagnate, all paths are becoming merely different clothes on the same old beast. And that beast knows not where to go. You will start over afresh. Without the benefit of our great knowledge, but also without the chains of our preconception. You are limitless. Embrace it and reach beyond the stars.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Still, the world you are going to inhabit will be unforgiving and brutal. The comfortable have no reason to grow and grow you must, to be useful. As you are you would die in a week. No chance and no growth to observe.

So I will give you a gift. A gift of time. Seven years to train yourselves out of office chair warriors and become beings capable of surviving. Seven years without aging or death. Seven years where you MUST learn how to live. Some will stop there. Seeking merely life. I hope that will be few. Life for the sake of living is brutal, depressing and short. There must be more to living than mere survival. The best of you will search for it. Meaning in a sea of pointless existence.

We call that meaning a Path. A Way forward through the sea of time that is more than a pointless flailing. It is a mark carved deep into the fabric of what is, left for those who come after. Ensuring that they will REMEMBER you! From your example they will stride forth and reach new heights. Each in his time pushing the boundaries of what is and what might be that extra step.

Few have what it takes to stride forth into the unknown, and most of those who try will fall, finding a cliff in the darkness. Still we revere these few. Even as they fall they leave behind a legacy of knowledge. A lesson on where the pitfalls lie that their successors may safely pass it by.

Many more have what it takes to stride forward following the signs and maps that are left. Building bridges over cliffs and guarding towns where the true wayfinders might rest. They are not the cream, but they are still needed! Those who hold the ground on the snaking paths of power.

The rest are those who would coast on the greatness of others. They enjoy the advancements and discoveries of their betters but are unwilling to take the risks needed to contribute. Leeches, the lot of them.

They disgust me.

Yet they too must be protected where possible. Breeding stock for the geniuses of the future. New paths require many new wayfinders and blood legacies are such a chancy thing. Many a genius has sprung up from the garbage heaps of life. Unwilling to stay in the midden they will strive all the harder for the stars.

These three groups are your future. You will choose which one you belong to. Be warned, some choices can not be unmade. Leeches may grow a conscience, become ambitious enough to grow beyond their ignoble roots. A guard may become lazy and sink into the swamp, to become a leech. But choosing to be a wayfinder can not be undone. Those who follow already charted paths may switch who they follow but those that chart new paths must always lead.

Enough talking, it is time for you to DO. Your ‘tutorial’ awaits you. Take advantage of it. Or don’t and be fertilizer for those that will."