Welcome Home
We've never settled on a theory as to why they only come at night. The astronomers claim they are always here but are made visible only by the muted light of distant stars.
The biologists insist they are a product of our circadian rhythms; sleep, neurochemical or some endocrinal cycle. Though which among them, they cannot decide.
The psychologists have yet to take a position even on the objective reality of their coming. They broke into factions long ago, at the beginning. They are a function of our consciousness or they are a sickness; something we have made manifest in the world, or hallucinate within it. They rage violently, one side against the other and are avoided by the rest.
I'm sure I need not give an account of the Clerics, nor could I. It has been so long since they barricaded themselves in with their altars. Whatever endeavours they set themselves to right the world, it has proven ineffective. Or perhaps they've simply abandoned us.
The philosophers are mostly concerned, as best anyone can tell, with what to call them. I forget whatever term's currently in vogue. They weigh their words and keep the lights on.
And so we sleep in the day, we autopsy our minds, we pray, we argue, we fight, we hide, we write stories, we close our eyes and we wait for answers.
Of course, I've never known the world without them and sometimes I wonder what the fuss is about. I can't be the only one who doesn't really mind.
It would be nice if they spoke, I can see that.
And if they'd let us look at them.
But it's not hard to avoid once you get used to it.
Anyway, welcome home captain. I appreciate how strange it must seem. Ah here they are, right on time.
Don't be afraid.
But don't turn around.
