The world itself in chaos since the distant past, habitation difficult.
It was the Final Enemy of which they wrote.
At last, in its quest for survival, humanity formulated a strategy to keep this foe in check.
The people of that age created a Mechanism, a land perfect for life.
And so was rejoiced the age of peace--the Brief Honeymoon.
However, the passage of time proved to be the bane of the Mechanism.
That rhythm of life, reaching from the depths of the earth high into the sky, began to deteriorate, slipped gear upon slipped gear, until at last the waves came together.
The waves, overlapping again and again, their amplitude ever swelling--rising to unparalleled heights, and falling to again just as far.
A failure--a breakdwon--appropriate to the grandeur or the Mechanism. It was known as The Collapse.
Had no one seen the disaster coming? Or did they choose not to look?
Or did they see, but fail to stay their hands nonetheless?
No conclusion was ever reached.
It has been many years since the world, which was as one, was split into pieces by the Disaster Wrought by Men--The Collapse.
The ruined land was filled with the multipurpose factories which had supported the Mechanism.
Civilization survived only around the factories, as those who had survived The Collapse flocked to them to support themselves.
Materials were in constant demand, but the factories' reorganization and substitution capabilities allowed a limited amount of exchange between settlements.
The settlements shared one goal, and the survivors gave their all.
No doubt those vessels of life were refilled by Their Own Work.
After many years, they were able to begin reclaiming the wastelands, a little at a time--
As in ancient times, never venturing far from the light of home, bleeding and struggling together to expand their territory.
Time passed, and humanity continued to spread outwards from its refuges.
They joined together, and formed groups not unlike the Nations of old.
And at long last, they regained the ability to see their surroundings--to feel the World.
Their horizons grew alongside their territories, miniscule threads twisting together and growing thicker.
And as they explored further and further, they discovered magnificent
arifacts of the age of the Mechanism, and became fascinated with them.
Perhaps it was inevitable.
That time was far, far away.
And yet it was no mere fairy tale.
The ruins before them brought not despair, but a feeling of connection still deep.
They believed that they could still reach that time.
But that was not all they found when they peeled aside the dark curtain.
There were those who hid amongst the rubble, their true forms concealed, waiting to feel the breath of life once more.
They had imitated the Mechanism during the age of chaos, in an attempt to revive the Honeymoon.
They each had had their own desire for success, and no doubt each reaped the rewards of what they had sown.
That reward--the inheritance, among the ruins--stood forever in the shadow of the Mechanism, and the Honeymoon it had brought about.
Overshadowed by that which their tiny world was modeled upon.
And there were still those who believed the same.
That a way to return to the Honeymoon still existed, somewhere in those ruins.
No doubt they had long ago lost track of the distinction between fantasy and reality.