What if the new Mythos consumes the way you see things. Suddenly the world makes a lot of sense. What if the world is full of this new Mythos, but we've become jaded too it, as it works its will. What about all that spam... the ones with a few words and then gobbledigook? Is that something trying to communicate, or a spammer losing it to something else. 

Horrors of mathematics... what if there is an Anti-Life Equation, and it wants to be discovered, wants to be solved.

Space telescopes: are there signals we never get told about?

Today a word is missing: You know it, but everyone else seems to think you're crazy. It was in your favorite book, but when you read it now, the word is missing... it's a common word... but no one agrees with you.

What would eat words?

There is a thing in cities that looks for a name. The name is important, the name is a key. It hunts at night, by day appearing as piles of innocuous bricks scattered in alleys. At night the legs come out, the eye opens... and it hunts for the word. When it finds a person, it eats their words, their language, leaving them a mumbling, babbling wreck. People think they've gone crazy, but they've just had their language consumed. The thing has not yet found the word.

But someone has to have it. Perhaps that hacker. Perhaps that university professor. Perhaps the old man on the edge of town who worked too long at the radio telescope... the man who has a morbid fear of rubble and refuse.

Today I reinvent myself with mathematics. I have worked out the electrical output of the brain. The formula is here. I have tattooed it on my skin. I have other formulas. They are correct, and they improve myself. Each day I chant them, and each day I feel the new formulas take over my body. They hum with new truth as I refute the old truth of my body and minds limitations. I will be the seed of the future. I will tattoo my children thus. They will be more true. In my dreams we see the future unfold, and there is a word. The Word - a word unuttered, a word that is a key that unlocks, that opens the future like an incomprehensible flower. Our family of Truth will walk forward, and the Truth will be on our lips... tattooed there. The Word will open the way, and our new bodies and minds will sing with it. In my dreams new cities are built by walking bricks that speak to us the Word. Our bodies will be new, our arcology will sing to us, and the future will be good.

Three asterisks to split

***

Today I build my god. These three asterisks are the beginning of the new god. I reject the religions and differences of the world. I now make my own god. Today it is three asterisks. I print them out and eat them as my communion. The laser printer's ink is holy as it dissolves within me. The new god is born.

Today I improve my god. I have put the asterisks on every surface of my home. The house is devoted to him - I have checked out a book on feng shui, and modified what seemed pertinent - from the old teachings will the refined god arise, all bad ideas expunged. I write of him, I give him a secret name. He will make my life important. The three asterisks will be The Three Asterisks. This street, of his birth, will be The Street. I will not be me, I will be Priest, and Beloved.

Today his temple is built. The house is in perfect alignment, and my god has become so much more than three asterisks. I live and sleep with my god around me. I know his secret name. I go to work in the public library, I do my job, but I sing his praises as I do so. My real job is midwife to the new god I have created. My real job is to be his first and only priest. I feel him stir within me, within me but apart.

Today a man came looking. Tatoos peeked beneath his clothes and on his lips. He was waiting for me, watching for me, and as I passed him on the street, he tasted the air. He tastes my new god.

Today I call in sick to the library. My god needs me. Three asterisks - a humble beginning. In the house we are protected, but we see him outside. The tatooed man. Piles of bricks are on the street - I do not know why.

Today he waited again. He pretends to wait and wander about the house, but we know. My god groans as he gets near. The arrangement of the silverware was the clue. It told me to go and kill the tatooed man, the infidel, the foreign divinity - for when my god grows strong, when I have brought more believers to him, there will only be room for one god in this world. But now he is a babe, a newborn. Three asterisks. From the divine arrangement of the house I have been given a steak knife. I will skin the tatooed man, and give his skin unto my growing god. I will look up a suitable prayer of sacrifice - perhaps something from the East?

Today we will have holy war.


Credits: Vrylakos