A young man, driven by his thirst for knowledge above all else, traverses the treacherous jagged cliffside of a mountain whose name has long been forgotten. Bedraggled, chilled to his bones, but resolute, the man finally reaches a pass, and sets eyes upon the small and ancient temple that he has been seeking. He slowly pushes open the doors to find an old man, seated and content. The old man of course is the wisest of our time. Can he truly see the future?
The young man wearily collapses to his bruised knees. When did he sustain that rip, the swelling welt underneath?