The Shattered Language

Maia and Jester, the architects of the renaissance, watched from their pocket universe as the Archipelago fractured. They had shattered the grand, oppressive narratives of the Weavers and Heretics, but in doing so, they had also shattered the common language that held their world together. ‘We wanted to give them freedom,’ Maia said, her voice heavy with irony. ‘And now they are free. Free to be completely, utterly alone.’ Jester, the champion of chaos, found himself in the strange position of yearning for a little more order. ‘This isn’t a conversation,’ he said, watching as two neighboring island-stories drifted past each other, their inhabitants oblivious to each other’s existence. ‘It’s a collection of monologues. We’ve replaced the tyranny of the choir with the loneliness of the solo artist.’ Their rebellion had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams. And in doing so, it had created a new, and perhaps even more insidious, kind of prison.