Another Epilogue
The spheres are but intrusions of higher beings, ascended ones. How do these come into being? By sacrificing many, many worlds, until they are noticed by the heart of all worlds. Then, if it deems them worthy, they ascend. What then, is this heart?
It is the Great Idea, the One Truth, the Originator, the Meaning of All Things. In the web of dimensions, the Great Idea sits at the center, weighing down the multiverse, testing, probing, observing and recording. It is said that something is not until it is seen, upon which then it is. The Great Idea sees all things, and ascribes to them meaning. In return, life eternally quests to reach the One Truth, ascribing to itself a meaning without which it would be mere void.
In all of the universes, all of the worlds, the Great Idea has come to discover the One True Meaning that encompasses all existence, and that meaning is Chaos. Random disorder against the orderliness of physical laws is what creates existence and allows the multiverse to flourish. In the greater view of things - and the Great Idea had the greatest view of all - everything is insignificant noise... a little meaningless chaos.
Imagine, then, its surprise, when a little man came to it after floating through time and space for what would be millions of years - if time had been a tangible concept for the Great Idea. The man refused to accept the meaning the Great Idea ascribed to him, and insisted that he had his own.
That would not do, thought the Great Idea. For another million years, it showed the little man the truth of the multiverse, and how insignificant he was. A speck on a mite of dust floating in greater specks in a little bowl, of which there were an infinite number. That was his role in life.
Still the man resisted.
Still, he refused to accept his meaning and dissolve into noise.
The Great Idea experienced, for the first time, exasperation.
Why is it that you reject your meaning?
The answer came in the form of a question, after a few thousand years of pondering.
Who are you, to ascribe meaning to me?
I am the Great Idea, the One Truth, the Originator, the Meaning of All Things. There is no meaning but what I give.
I reject that, replied the little man.
My meaning is mine alone. My fate is mine alone to determine.
I do not weave destiny, I merely observe.
Then, your observations are wrong, for I reject your meaning.
You are a very strange little thing.
I suppose I am, laughed the little man. It was a laugh that had seen the depths of insanity and come out the other end, a cold, sober laugh that promised cruel and terrible things.
Diogenes Camna would be a poor excuse for a man if he let a mere observer of all existence determine his own meaning.