There is a man. He is naked and devoid. But, he can react. Speech is one tool he possesses. The man sits cross-legged atop a round stool that rotates on its own accord. Three paths intersect in one perfect geometry at the stool's mounting. The man has always been here, blank, in this condition.
Then at once on the horizon three suns emerge, one above each path. Individual silhouettes approach in accord along each of these roads. The outlines become figures and arrive before the rotating man and stop. Their respective suns have risen a daytime's quarter behind each of them. When they halt so does the rotating chair and the man finds himself facing one of the figures.
This figure is almost identical to the man on the stool, though the man does not know this. He has no conception of his own facade. Unlike the man, this figure has a tattoo printed upon his chest. It is an upright blue oval. The first figure reaches for the man's palm and places onto it an egg. The man watches as the egg hatches and out crawl three young creatures: a bat, a bird and a fly. They each flap their wings, rise above the man and fly away down the path from which the first figure came.
The man speaks to the figure before him: "This is my question for you: Does this mean I will be able to fly, then?"
The first figure gestures behind and replies: "So it must be. I think you must have the ability. I do not think you must have the desire." The figure then takes the cracked shell back into his hand and continues: "This is my message for you: This shell was the only protection those creatures were ever guaranteed. It was where they needed to come from and it is where they had to leave."
The stool below the man rotates and he now faces the second figure. Above the man, the three suns have risen much further and are now close in the center of the sky. The second figure appears identical to the first, except his tattoo is different. It is a red symbol, like the number eight oriented on its side.
The figure suddenly tosses three small white cubes at the man. The man catches them and now holds them within his fist. The suns above have collided peacefully and there are three full moons now descending along the same paths from whence the suns arose. Moonlight covers the man and the three figures.
The man opens his palm and observes the three dice that he has caught, each displaying a different number of black dots. The roll reveals faces studded with one, three and six dots. The man tosses the dice back to the second figure who catches them and holds the cubes in a clenched fist.
The man then speaks to the second figure: "Here is my question to you: Will you show me those white faces you conceal? I must know the result."
The figure brings his closed fist to his own mouth, into which he drops the dice and swallows. He now replies to the man: "So you see, the answer is that you will not know how the faces fell. Now, here is my message for you: Numbers will line up as they must. You will know them, but they will never pay mind to you."
Once more the man's world spins and he finds himself facing the final figure. The man feels longing and turns his head to look back at the second figure. But, the final figure reaches out and takes hold of the man's face and firmly holds him forward facing. The moons have continued their retreat meanwhile and they close in on the horizon.
A golden-yellow form marks the chest of the final figure. The shape is jagged, and boldest of all the tattoos the man has seen. The symbol is that of a lighting bolt. The final figure reaches behind his back and pulls out a dagger. He reaches forward and nicks the man three times: once upon the forehead, once upon the chest and once above the groin. The man winces as feeble streams of blood dribble from each wound.
The man looks into the eyes of the final figure and says: "I ask you this: Is there a reason you have injured me?"
The figure places the dagger in the man's hand and replies: "To help you fear for all of yourself all of the time. And I will tell you this: Fear will make you long, it will make you love and it will dependably lead you back to nothing." The man's wounds now closed and in their places scars trace the dagger's path.
The man thrusts the dagger forward and plunges it into the belly of the final figure. He lets go of the weapon. The figure shows no reaction and no blood escapes the wound. The figure pulls the dagger free from a still frozen wound.
The man's stool began to rotate once again and it circles steadily as it had before the three figures ever arrived. The man observes the figures turn around and return down their respective paths disappearing with the three moons into the horizon.
Darkness covers the man's world. But, then the suns reemerges and daylight shines as it only had once before. In the stark light, the man finds himself still spinning. In one hand he holds the three dice, coated in saliva. In the other, he grips the dagger. And as the suns continue their ascent his scars part and let forth the trickle of blood. The bat, bird and fly, rotate in flight around his head breaking from formation from time to time to lunge at one another. And he cries as the day progresses. At one time he tosses the dice. At another he nicks himself just a few times more.
