No Reply, Concept Piece
There isn't a room. There is nothing. There is only blackness and infinity, stretching out in all directions. It is the emptiness of the void, an area outside space and time. Inside it's chasms of infinite nothingness is everything and more importantly everyone. The gods, fickle and disgusting creatures that they are use this place as their playhouse and theater, and summon creatures and beings from across the vast stretches of space time.
A single light pierces through the blackness and illuminates an area big enough for a man. It has no source, but it is infinite. It is the eye of the gods upon the lesser beings they have summoned. Tonight, they have chosen the perspective of a lowly being. What is it to be a young immortal on earth in these times and nights? What would they say if they had all the pieces in place? How would they view the moving pieces that make up reality?
Through the empty black escape, moved a solitary figure. His rough motorcycle boots somehow percussed the empty blackness like a tile floor, and the smell of whiskey and tobacco filled the air. Into the light stepped a tall man, six foot three and thickly muscled. He wore heavy motorcycle boots, jeans and a tank top. His chestnut hair was pomaded and combed down into a swoop, and his biceps flexed as he lit a cigarette. His dark eyes looked up at the endless light, and he smiled at whoever lived on the other side.
The gods had chosen to hear the perspective of Drew Sullivan, Private Eye, alcoholic and sometimes hero. Drew didn't know what he had to say that was worth dick, but his mind was flooded with knowledge, and while he guessed it wouldn't be permanent, for a moment he was omnipotent. The gods waited for the lower being to speak. What would be philosophy according to Drew?
