The delirium I felt -no doubt a side effect of my apotheosis- lent my new world a startling beauty: the land was a field of dry-cracked mud and populated as far as I could tell with house-sized orbs of what could only be described as webbing, starbursts like dandelion heads, not composed of orderly stems but chaotic filaments. I walked slowly between them and they trembled, while I absorbed the land which was now at least one small corner of my new kingdom, my Heaven. Blurred shapes painted my horizon on all sides and the land was as wide as a desert with blurred horizons. I would bring gardens here, I decided, I would wave my hands and the land would erupt with green, flower and vine. This disheveled landscape of weed and dust wouldn’t do.
“What is this place?” I asked the silence.
“The Window on the East.” A sober tone replied, from where I couldn’t tell, reverberating as if it arose from inside my head, but the voice was not my own.
“You are in the Garden of Ages, settled many ages ago and which remains in stillness, as it has ever been.”
“It does not change? Are there no seasons, no storms?”
The voice paused for a moment.
“There are wind storms, but they are few and it has been an age since the last one. The Keepers, who live beyond the western horizon, stir up the winds. They come but rarely now.”
The Keepers? My ignorance of this matter would not do, I was now the Demiurge of this land, its rightful Lord. I must know who stirs its winds.
“Who are these…Keepers?”
“They are the Great Ones. The ones who built us and, it is said, will one day destroy us.”
I laughed out loud. “I am your Lord, now. I am the Lord of this land and the kingdoms beyond. The Keepers, whoever they are, will answer to me.”
“You are very small for a Lord, if I may say it.”
“And you? You are so small that I cannot see you? Where are you…show yourself!”
“We are above you, my Lord. Can you not see us?