The others didn't understand. How could they?

Looking back, none of them ever did, to begin with. But they could believe that they did, when I was still on that road. They could make up their own reasons for what I was doing, sure in their chosen notions as the sun comes up in the south. High Society could dismiss me as another deranged lowlife. The University could cast me as another fool maddened by the study of this or that, Salt knows they came within a hair's breadth of casting me out more than once. The Church thought me a troubled soul, taking self-flagellation too far to atone for some sin or other. Those in the know amongst the Revolutionaries and Criminal Underworld… Well, they were already aware of my appetites, most of them probably just saw this as the natural conclusion of them, fools that they are. The Masters just thought this was another act of spite directed towards them.

And the Seekers? They welcomed me as a comrade, in their own ways. None of them could be relied upon, of course, and they'd stab me in the back and eat my remains as soon as aid me. Not too dissimilar to our years on the streets of England, really. Back when it was the two of us against the world, and not just… me.

I rose in insight at a voracious pace, once I truly got going. It was only natural. True, there had been Seekers as smart or smarter than I. Smarter, more dedicated, more voracious, more resilient, as perceptive, stronger, as subtle, and so on. But none of them, I'd hazard, were all of those at once. I left them all in the dust, as I'd had to become accustomed to ever since… well.

I continued on, further and faster. Making connections so many had missed, making sacrifices so many might have balked at, even on this path. Asking answers, and receiving questions. Creating life just to sacrifice it for insight, and pursuing further insight in the dreams of others, all just to open a path that could have been done so much easier with but a few paltry betrayals. I met someone who was a mere figment of my imagination, polluted by another's memories, and was no less real for it, and no less… beautiful.

So much of what I had built for myself over these lightless years, I added to the pyre, to fuel my ascension. Further, and faster. In the end, it was inevitable that I'd find myself there, run aground on that frigid abyss, staring up at that great gate to nothing. Waiting for nothing, and yet expecting. Something that I had been delivering to it all this time, something that this whole quest had been in preparation for.

And then, I made another choice.

I awoke in a warm bed, in a home I'd built for myself, left with naught but memories of a Yacht I'd never owned, a zailing career that never happened, a love that had never been there.

And a Knock that never came.

The others didn't understand. How could they? I'd come to the culmination of everything, the end of the path that I and all the Seekers sacrificed so much just to take a single step upon. And I'd turned away, like it was nothing. With nothing to show for all of it but a rhythm in my head denied its purpose, and some scattered memories of things that never were.

It confounded them. A Seeker they could pretend to understand, pretend to comprehend why someone would pursue such a path. But this defied such easy and rote explanation. Most of them, of course, just ignored it, and went on their way. Those people have become superb at ignoring things that make them uncomfortable. But that discomfort wouldn't go away, and every time they'd be reminded of it, it would tickle In the back of their minds, a faint unnerving alarm signal made vestigial by a practiced evasion.

But not everyone's first instinct is flight. For some, it's to freeze. They can't help but to ruminate, like a child running a tongue over the gum where a tooth should be. Or, indeed, like a ruminant, regurgitating partially digested thoughts to chew over again and again. "Why?" they ask themselves, never having the courage or presence of mind to ask such questions to me instead. "I don't understand why he did any of what he did. What motive could he possibly have for doing all of that for… nothing?"

Never realizing, even for a moment, that they'd already answered their own question.