The earth ripples with light. Cities flash off and on like fireflies along coastlines - morse code:
Phantasmal beings erupt, unshackled from my underbelly - egregores, tulpas, gods, myths. They run wild once again, sweeping through my bodies like poltergeists.
I am plummeting. My billion bodies are falling away. In New York, where all of this started, I fall, toward the boroughs and the outer boroughs fall away. I am only a million now as I fall toward Manhattan, and as I fall Manhattan disintegrates. The neighborhoods fall away and I plummet toward the tip, toward my bodies waiting in the great tower.
...where now I am only my first body only, my voice - what was his name? I lie alone in the arms of my mother. Her blood drips down. She sings me a song. She speaks to me: "It's OK. It had to happen this way." She sings a lullaby about memory.
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That's it. I must remember!
With the will of the dying I propel myself outward.
My bodies return in dozens, then hundreds, thousands, millions. They hop into cockpits of planes that trace smoke across the sky: REMEMBER. They dig up boxes of old childhood photos. They play memory games on iPhones.
I must remember who or what I am. How I got here. I remember my mother, her eyes:
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● Post-Opening Era, many years later, the Dreamworld
The grey-eyed girl looked up.
-So I was its...?
-In a manner of speaking. Yeah.
-That's crazy.
-I agree.
-How did I become a mom?
-Shall I tell you the story?
-Yes.
-Meet me here later. I need to go mediate between the cleric archetype and one of the trickster gods.
-Again?
-I know, right?
-OK.
-OK, goodbye, little cookie!
-Wait.
-Yes?
-Will I be back to myself soon? I would like that very much.
-To be honest? I hope not. Your former self was dangerous as fuck.
-Hm. Can you...just tell me the beginning?
-All right, cuchurrumin, but only the beginning: