As told orally by Abb-Joyt—Age 63, Generation 1117
> 17 | By this point, the language had severely morphed from its original English and would thus be incomprehensible without an in-depth knowledge of Pilgrim language. For convenience’s sake, all accounts will be interpreted and translated back into English. For a full explanation of the linguistic changes of the Pilgrim people, you may be inclined to read ‘Earth’ to ‘Ur’: A Linguistic Dissection by Bumble Scantily.
It was a perfect world.
Without fault and without conflict.
All of the Creator’s subjects lived in harmony with each other, and their planet.
They lived devoid of need and in absence of inequality.
As hard as it is to believe, humans other than Terrs and Abbs existed within their cosmic oasis.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
Far, far away at the other end of the universe.
They were many, they were diverse, and they loved—oh how they loved.
The Primes were admired by their people, as our originals had bestowed heavenly knowledge unto the masses.
Terrence Martin and Abigail Melfi—may their full names belong to them and them alone—knew of the path humanity was required to take.
They foresaw the machine that was necessary for humanity’s survival.
But alas, they were lost before their lesson could truly be understood by their people.
And by chance only describable as divine, the lovers were flung into the depths of space.
It was in the vacuum of the void where their lesson was truly understood.
By us.
By our ancestors.
And by our descendants.
We will not see the fruits of our labor.
Nobody will—not for ages.
And yet we cannot ignore our mission.
We must return.
One day.
Humanity needs us—they need our knowledge.
They need our spirit.
If you find yourself in total silence, pause and listen, for if you focus, you can almost hear the cries of the humans back on Earth, begging for our return.
As long as we condemn the Great Distraction, we ensure this cry to be answered.
May we find our way home.