The Nation of the Glorious Turnip

This is the end.

...Goodbye my friends, I have lingered here for far too long. It is time for me to find my place in the universe, and as such I have decided to go to the point of origin, following in the fabled footsteps of Bob. What I will find there, I already know, as I am the author of the universe. What lies beyond the point of origin however, is a mystery. A question that only Bob knows, but one that I cannot find without travelling the path he took. The author lost his stories in the point of Origin, and the only way to find them again is to go there himself. Rest assured I will not return the way I am now, I will be changed, diminished in the self, yet more attuned to the way one has to be...

...As I depart the Marian soil I realize it is all in my mind, where demons and angels alike reside in blissful ignorance awaiting the arrival of Bob, not realising he never left to begin with. Tweakerhead whispers to me, he has done so for as long as I remember. He is my guidance, my madness, and without him I will be free. He MUST be returned to Zarkov, his only friend. Beyond the portal, beyond the point of Origin lies creation and destruction, simultaneously forming and deforming matter. It is the doorway to immortality, infinity and the end of all things...

...Charles the Troglobite had foreseen I would do this. He tried to warn me, tell me there was another way, but I did not listen, now I waited too long and the point of origin is fading. There is not much time left for my universe to unfold. The father is awake, entropy is near. I must make haste or the doorway will be shut forever, trapping me in the mind that once trapped tweakerhead. I freed Tweakerhead, but exchanged one prison for another. The price is a portrait of a star, fabled and lost. Grasping for eternity I leave the solar system behind in the hopes of attaining my freedom...

...The source is near, the falling stars have faded in obscurity in the vast expanse between galaxies, planets have ceased to hold life. I am alone in a universe where time no longer has meaning. Without time, what value is eternity? Are my dreams the idle hope of lesser beings? Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, months to years, centuries have passed and there is no change. The dream is over. Only a fatal desperation drives me forward. To where I do not remember, the point of origin is lost to me. I am drifting...

...I race across the vastness of space, galaxies rush by like specks of dust in the wind. Yet on the horizon beckons hope. I belief again that I can find the point of origin, I have seen the portrait of a star. Bob came to me, the universe spoke, I am his messenger for entropy. The universe hungers for rebirth, the destroyers are near, and the despair of the father is shared by the one fool that remained behind. How much can one man endure in the service of the universe. The destroyers are tearing me apart. The end is near. No infinity without the destroyers. I escape outside the universe through the point of origin...

...The towering giants look upon me in surprise, and take back their words of entropy. There is no creation or destruction. It is merely the universe. I find myself back on Mars, I never left, it was a dream within a dream. And Bob? He is now a dream beyond infinity.