"In here, over the portal of my fort, I shall cut in the stone the word which is to be my beacon and my banner. The word, which will not die, should we all perish in battle. The word, which can never die on this earth, for it, is the heart of it and the meaning and the glory.

The sacred word:

EGO"

Avery shut the worn leather book with care and placed it on her bedside table. And an inscription on the back of the journal caught her eye 'Prometheus Galileo' the name struck a familiar note with in her and she dashed from her room and down the hall until she reached the set of doors she was looking for. The doors whirred open as she approached and shut behind her with a click. She immediately walked straight towards a wooden stand in the middle of the room. She opened the old book it held and flipped through the old yellowing pages upon which her family's linage was written. Very quickly a name caught her eye, the very same name she'd seen on the back of the old journal. As she read about her family's founder she felt inspiration welling within her, she found her own blank journal and in her own neat script began her own story of her life in a world where men and women were once more individuals with their own free will and ability to come and go where they pleased. Her pen touched the paper with blinding speed as she wrote down what came to mind as she thought about what her great great great grandfather had had to endure those hundreds of years before.

Silver soul stuck in a field of ones of bitter grey

Trapped in a seamless whirl of backward time

Forbidden feelings and spoken words

Felt for the one with golden hair

Thirst for knowledge goes unquenched

But for precious secret moments and stolen manuscripts

Rush of hidden discovery ever glorious

Giving light with out the wax that melts away

Caught like a child out without permission

Escape so easy no one the wiser

Bitter outrage at the light brought forth

Flight into the unknown and new

Pursued by the one held dear

Past uncovered in a structure long forgotten

Words once lost now are found

And soon may a new race of man rise

Setting time whirling forward once more.

Avery looked over the poem she had written on the first page and thought to herself, "now that the past has been put in my own words shall the present and future be written."