Someone, somewhere, was trying to tell her story— and getting it wrong, too. Someday she would have to track down these foolish storytellers and torture them. Not that she wanted them to get all the details right, of course— evil operates best in the dark— but torture was such a fulfilling pastime.


Pain. Pain, pain, pain, pain. That was all there was, that much was known.

What was 'known'?

Awareness, the answer came. To know is to be aware.

I am aware. A pause. What is 'I'?

Awareness, the same thought came again. I think, I know, so I am aware. I am aware, so I am an 'I'.

That was all. The awareness ended.