The Age of Glass
Everyone knows the Glass. Some villages rest in mountain valleys, others on stilts and planks by the sea or behind rock walls under the shadows of slowly shifting dunes. To every young child, the Glass is simply part of the landscape, silent circles strewn about by powers long grown silent. The Glass outlasts generations, gently rippled surfaces mingling obscured images of sky above and darkened earth below.
Some religions say the earth was born of Glass, and the mountains and plains and oceans were lifted and melted out of the single glowing form of the world-crystal. Others say that nay, once there was no Glass, and the world is being smoothed clean for the use of another race. But there has been no new Glass since memory began--did the gods abandon their plans, or merely pause in their efforts?
In some places the Glass is sacred, in others profane, and in some merely an a-religious nuisance to be ripped up to make more room for pasture.
So humanity huddles in the corners of the world, having lost its godlike powers, possessing only rudimentary technology, once more threatened by the beasts and creeping and crawling things of the wild. Remnants of glorious and horrendous civilizations alike remain, earth and water moved by power of the mind, hand, and machine or perhaps simply the will of the gods? That is where we stand now, struggling to catch the fey spectre of the blessings endowed on a purer line or recall what powers are hidden inside the hand and tool. The riddles of genetics and subatomic physics are completely unknown to these people: The only half-explanations they can wonder at are the shrill rantings of priests detailing their version of whatever sinful offense caused the deities to cast down mankind from his seat of power, mixing mud and ash into a fallen lineage; the unbreachable, monolithic towers and the enigmatic forms of machines half-swallowed, listing into the very earth offer silent testimony to little more than the fact that they once existed, presumably to serve mankind. How, why, and for what end are questions only myths and legends can now touch upon.
Everyone knows the Glass. Some villages rest in mountain valleys, others on stilts and planks by the sea or behind rock walls under the shadows of slowly shifting dunes. To every young child, the Glass is simply part of the landscape, silent circles strewn about by powers long grown silent. The Glass outlasts generations, gently rippled surfaces mingling obscured images of sky above and darkened earth below.
Some religions say the earth was born of Glass, and the mountains and plains and oceans were lifted and melted out of the single glowing form of the world-crystal. Others say that nay, once there was no Glass, and the world is being smoothed clean for the use of another race. But there has been no new Glass since memory began--did the gods abandon their plans, or merely pause in their efforts?
In some places the Glass is sacred, in others profane, and in some merely an a-religious nuisance to be ripped up to make more room for pasture.
So humanity huddles in the corners of the world, having lost its godlike powers, possessing only rudimentary technology, once more threatened by the beasts and creeping and crawling things of the wild. Remnants of glorious and horrendous civilizations alike remain, earth and water moved by power of the mind, hand, and machine or perhaps simply the will of the gods? That is where we stand now, struggling to catch the fey spectre of the blessings endowed on a purer line or recall what powers are hidden inside the hand and tool. The riddles of genetics and subatomic physics are completely unknown to these people: The only half-explanations they can wonder at are the shrill rantings of priests detailing their version of whatever sinful offense caused the deities to cast down mankind from his seat of power, mixing mud and ash into a fallen lineage; the unbreachable, monolithic towers and the enigmatic forms of machines half-swallowed, listing into the very earth offer silent testimony to little more than the fact that they once existed, presumably to serve mankind. How, why, and for what end are questions only myths and legends can now touch upon.
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