In the first world, he built with Norx, who had provided everything, and the humans became complacent.
The thought of that first world left a bitter taste in Alias's mouth, stronger than the dry flour of the bread. He remembered it vividly: a land of eternal spring where fruit fell into waiting hands and the rivers ran with sweet water.
He and Norx had watched from above, expecting a masterpiece of peace.
Instead, they had watched the humans rot. Without the need to strive, their spirits had grown dull; they had stopped creating, stopped dreaming, and eventually, stopped caring for one another. They became like stagnant ponds.
They began to lag in development, squander and divulge, because it was all there, and there was no reason to work hard.
Norx had been the one to voice it first. "They aren't living, Alias. They're just existing. Let's dry it up and see if they find their fire."
