The Man They Called Universe
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PROLOGUE
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There are people in places that go beyond what the average people can comprehend.
Their existence is only vague in one place, places where they have gone before or never been.
In the next place their existence has blown beyond life itself, and their fate is key, and they hold in turn the fate of the whole world in palm.
The worth of any man, women, boy, girl, or anywhere in between or not at all, is only measured by his acknowledgement by those around them.
If a child calls himself king, he is only a mere peasant if those around him treat him so.
If a child calls himself sane, he is insane if deemed so by those around him.
A child that washes his hands could dine with kings, a man who bloodies his hands can dine with criminals- blood heritage, prestige, accomplishment, and title have no meaning beyond identification for others about you.
There are people who have been everything. They have begun as nothing and become everything. They have begun as everything but faded to nothing.
Existence is a fleeting gift experience by the mortal, longer than life itself for many.
But there is no existence to the one who is never seen or acknowledge, who has never created ripples in waters seen by others.
What is to verify an existence, if no one can claim in truth that something ever existed? Those are called legend, or lies, or myths. Mysteries and stories of people once told but never proven, the ripples they made seen by too few and unproven beyond.
No less, those people live in shadows. They create ripples but they themselves are never seen.
These people do not exist, but the things they have done exist.
Existence is proven.
These people are rare and few between. The places they go will never be seen by the people of places they've been before.
The worlds they have seen are beyond comprehension to the next or to the last.
But are these people real? Are the places they go real if no one in the last or the next have seen another?
Fiction.
The people who live in other places are fiction, and the places are fiction, and the people who cross between these places? They aren't even fiction, they are wisps of dreams and shadows combined with confusion and enigma.
They are nonexistent.
The nonexistent amongst fictional realms, the dark matter between empty space.
Fiction and nonexistence do not exist at all.
This is the truth people of any place use to shield themselves from things that cannot be comprehended.
Unless they are Travelers.
The people who do not exist.
But amongst the people who do not exist is a single person who does not exist, but a person who has existed none the less in more ways, by more names, by more places.
He existed only to the few who understood just what he was- but what he was, was not comprehensible.
Only those who did not exist saw his existence, as he was one of them, a being who did not live and a being who lived all at once.
He was a well traveled man, and his creation never happened but he still moved, he still traveled, he still thrived, though he was a man who was never born, a man who at one time did not exist or live, and then the next he did, but only as an unproven myth.
Where he came from was the mystery, just what he was was not possible, and where he went could never be deciphered.
The ones who do not exist called him by many things.
The people who claimed to have known him as his home called him the Snake Prince.
The people who he passed called him The Traveler.
The places he devastated in rage called him The Ender.
The places where they loved him called him The Father.
The people and places he ruled called him Code Green.
He was a man of many names, but in every world he existed, he lived, he did not exist, and he did not live.
They called him The Universe.