Nyrarlathotep

Though Gallente engineers had reason to name their grim discovery after the ancient titan with her jar of plagues, the crawling horror described in those recovered logs evoked for me a different mythology.

Before musing on fanciful beings, however, I first circle the source which feeds our springs of mythological creativity. Be it the cathedrals of my home, the shamanistic vales of Matar, or mysterious groupings of pylons lost in space, this urge to inject meaning into emptiness crosses many borders. It is not purely a spiritual quest, for even among those who protest fairy tales, explanations of our reality take on the frenzied hues of superstition when inquiries turn to matters surpassing our capacity to measure; and certainly, one of the motivations for scientific inquiry remains a need to not only discover meaning, but create it. Others among us reject inquiry - spiritual or secular - outright as weakness, and sing instead the virtue of raw instinct. Nevertheless, stripping weakness to reveal some primary root remains a quest for more.

With each advance in our capabilities, always another curtain falls to block our view of something beyond. As an entire species, we project agendas into those hidden spaces. The simple act of moving to draw the curtain back projects, for it concedes not only that we do not know, but that we hope to find. Should we refuse to draw the curtain, we have projected meaning into the curtain itself. Intentionally shrouding ourselves in complete darkness to prevent discovery of the next curtain - challenging our present comfort - projects this fear of change into that darkness.

We cannot even deny the darkness without giving shape to its denial.

Only knowing absolutely nothing, or absolutely everything, frees us from our projected demons. However, because we have started on one side of so many curtains, we - all Mankind - may never know if we have seen the last curtain. Lacking the perspective of true infinity, we may never know if our greatest advances have merely failed to advance far enough. I do not believe even the God we presently conceive might see at once all curtains and spaces, for if we conceive this God, then it is a concept based in finite understanding.

Though limited in a manner similar to our own through its finite origin, the crawling horror recounting a tragic past, present, and future in Pandora's logs - that avatar of Nyarlathotep - has slipped several curtains beyond. I therefore wonder: what mysteries might we learn from it; and, what curtains might its unraveling reveal?