In the beginning, it was dark. It was cold. I was floating around, an idea waiting to be had, a baby waiting to be born. I was a soul tapping my foot in a lobby hopping my number would come up and whoever's in charge around here would incarnate me already. I was about twelve, then. I knew I was divine, you know, not in charge of the multiverse or anything, but clearly not one of the little breathing things running around down there. Except there weren't any little, warm things running around living and dying the way they do. There was just me, floating in the aether, so incredibly bored. It went on like that for a while, a couple of years. Then an old robber baron looking for something meaningful to do before he died wandered through the nothingness with a handful of dirt and a seed. I was still twelve.