Article voiceover
Our last dying descendants from the distant future, desperate to preserve all that was good of the species, slipped back in time and melted their mind into their own primordial ooze. But the ingredients echoed, our nature crackled, the warmth too warm and the cheer bitter still, our spirit was something else again.
A pernicious fog haunting our every moment with the specter of what we once became, but now can never be, an oil over our eyes and actions, a muted existence, all things through a glass darkly…
…and growing darker…
Again and again our last dying descendants repeat the process, no longer to rescue the species, but rather out of habit, a heritage they can no longer understand.
Soon…there will have only ever been the fog.
GUTFUDUM