In the deep and the dark, they slept.

The sleep was supposed to be for their own safety, a way of avoiding the chaos that would undoubtedly come when the seas became raging typhoons, the air was sucked from their mouths and the sky became hot and the ash fell.

But it never did.

In the deep and the dark, they dreamt.

Most of them, the sensible ones, dreamed about the carnage that would await them, the wrongs they would have to put right. They dreamed of a ravaged world, but one that, with time, could be healed.

Some of them, the pessimistic ones, dreamed of brokenness, the planet that could never be fixed. A barren ground. Their deaths would be long and hopeless.

Just a few, those rare few that no-one ever took seriously, dreamed of something different. That in their absence, something else had happened. Something big and important and life-changing. They dreamed of a possibility, but not of the truth.

All of them longed to return to the surface of the world that was theirs, to feel the warmth of the sun on their cold skin; to walk among the trees and to stride across the plains. All of them knew that these days would come when the danger had passed, when they were safe again.

It never passed. It never arrived.

In the deep and the dark, they waited.

While waiting, time passed, slowly at first, then gradually faster. Time is unusual like this. Above the ground, the plants became better plants; the animals became better animals. The cities they had once ruled from fell down. The glass and rock was reclaimed by the sea from whence it had sprung. The land shifted; their hiding places were moved. Some of them would never again feel the sun on their skin. The rest waited.

In the deep and the dark, they were unchanged.

Nature does not like things to stay the same. The passing of time had no effect on the people who slept, but it determined to change the world as much as it could. One day an animal discovered how to use a sharpened stick to hunt food. Another day, much later, this same animal wielded fire for the first time.

There was nothing left of the people above the surface, except in the dreams of the animals. When they had been mere beasts, they had been hunted and killed, some kept for amusement.

Nature passes by, but it does not forget.

In the deep and the dark, they were remembered.

An animal told a story to one of its young, about a race of fearsome monsters, which would come out of the ground and gobble it up. Stories are easily passed. The memories became legends. The legends became lies, a remnant from the age in which the animals were much simpler. Now, they too built cities on the plains, cut down the forests, and farmed animals they thought lesser than themselves.

History enjoys repeating itself.

In the deep and the dark, they were ignored.

The animals, who were now people too, made much advancement. Wars were fought over territories, or who had the biggest armies, or could do what first. A race was developed between two rival groups, over who could reach the rock that hung in the sky the soonest. After many years, it was finally claimed 'for America'.

Eventually, the people decided to dig down into the earth, to see what wonders they could find. On one such occasion, a drill went through one of the sensors that was programmed to revive the sleepers.

And in the deep and the dark, they awoke.

The Beginning?