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Coups de cœur Cultura
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Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered, because any- and everything could be had with a flick of Nil'Gu'ua, applied to the glyph of the desired object. Only purpose could not be obtained this way, only volition and drive could not be had for the asking, for those had to come from within. But what use were such internal promptings when everything necessary to thrive was so easily obtained?
Kreceno'Tiv did not want to be one of the goalless, gormless masses for whom nothing mattered. He wanted purpose, wanted something to strive for, and only a thin hope kept him from sinking into total despair – the hope of going from Secondus to Tertius, the gateway institute that led to a position in the Solidarim, the ruling body of the Totality.
But despair, like a disease, can infect the soul, weaken the will. With such a thin thread of hope, can Kreceno'Tiv pull himself out of the morass of despair that blankets the city-Hive of An'Siija, and indeed, his whole world of Gu'Anin? Can he save himself from a place on the crowded edges of the boulevards, watching the turns go by in endless listlessness? Was the absence of something to do all turn really a sort of living death? Or was there more to be found in the collective minds and hearts of those who watched him go and come every turn, and who had nothing better to do?
