I wish, he thought, that I had more to go on, that I had more actual fact, that the myth content were less, but I must console myself in the thought that historians in the past have also relied on myth, recognizing that although myth maybe romanticized and woefully short of fact, it must, by definition, have some foundation in lost happenings.

The candle's flame flared in the gust of wind that came through the window. In a tree outside, a tiny fluffed-out screech owl made a chilling sound.

Wilson dipped the quill in ink and wrote, close to the top of the page, for he must conserve the paper:

An Account of Those Disturbances Which Brought About an End to the First Human Civilization (always

in the hope there will be a second, for

what we have now is no civilization,

but an anarchy)

Written by Hiram Wilson at the University of Minnesota on the Banks of River Mississippi, This Account

Being Started the First Day of October, 2952

He laid the quill aside and read what he had written. Dissatisfied, he added another line:

Composed of Facts Gathered From Still Existing Books Dating From Earlier Days, From Hearsay Evidence

Passed on by Word of Mouth From the Times of Trouble and From Ancient Myths and Folklore Assiduously

Examined for Those Kernels of Truth That They May Contain

There, he thought, that at least is honest. It will put the reader on his guard that there may he errors, but giving him assurance that I have labored for the truth as best I can.

He picked up the quill again and wrote:

There is no question that at one time, perhaps five hundred years ago, Earth was possessed of an intricate and sophisticated technological civilization.