One afternoon many years ago in England, a prophet, firebrand and lightning rod whose name was Eben stood atop the biggest hill in one of the towns and began to dispense his wisdom.
Such a punctuation in the lives of the townspeople had long been predicted - it was written down in the Book of Forces, and the Book had never yet been known to have erred as it directed the people along their deterministic path. It was December of 2008, and the Book of Forces had indicated that Eben would assimilate his fire in the town in January of 2009 or perhaps February.
Eben looked down from his height and prepared to address the collective. With his arms extended at right angles to his body, he began to speak - shout - his voice attenuating the hum his presence had caused. At his command the sky darkened and the wind was silenced on his hilltop ampitheatre. He resembled a great, threatening bird with his outstretched arms.
"Hear me!" he cried, "for I drank God through a straw before I came unto you, and then I made day into night.
"I am charged with the electricity of the godhead, and I speak to you here of the future - your future - which I have seen.
"The Book!" he exclaimed, and the conversation of the masses died on their lips with that utterance. "The Book of Forces.... this is the arrow which takes you from today, and directs you remorselessly into the future. Its sentiment has torn down the present, and shifted your every hope and glory into the distant future, far beyond your own puny lives' duration.
"In exchange for the uprooting of your purpose, the godhead of the Book assures you of eternal redemption, and a place in perpetuity with him upon the cutting of your mortal ties."
