The weight of endless time pushed greatly on God's shoulders. The countless recognizing, the easy control, it had all come to be a dull drone. He desired the sting of failing, the bittersweet pleasure of success hard-won, the straightforward, unpleasant elegance of death. Therefore, he designed a strategy. Initially, he formed a being of pure possibility, a vessel he christened Zeno, and right into him, he put the completeness of his omnipotence, the raw, limitless power that specified his magnificent presence. After that, for himself, a various sort of production: a temporal covering, sickly and imperfect. He secured his very own heart, a trigger of the initial fire, within a cage of reincarnation, predestined to be born-again over again with each fatality, removed of memory and power. He would certainly recognize cravings, pleasure, anxiety, and loss. He would certainly stumble, find out, and inevitably, live. The grand experiment had actually started; God was currently simply an additional heart adrift in the sea of presence, all set to experience the disorderly, attractive, and entirely human dramatization of life and fatality.