The Seer can be found in his mountain home, watching the sun rise over the lush wildlands. He drinks tea. He closes his eyes. He attempts to listen to the birdsong without falling down a hole of vast understanding about every facet of their nature. He holds back these unwanted desires. An affliction, he calls it.
Stepping into that ancient tomb, some twenty years back, changed him forever. Before he was the Seer he was just a man seeking fortune. Deep in the belly of that iron catacomb, where the thrum of its lifeforce still reverberated down its passages, he found that machine. It injected something in his skull. Implanted it.
When he awoke from the blinding pain, he clutched his head and rolled in agony as the sum of all knowledge poured into his head like boiling tea overspilling a cup.
He can hardly think a single thing now, without exciting the rabid, electric currents of his own unwanted knowledge. Hardly imagine a simple thing without understanding it entirely. He will spend the rest of his years trying to forget what he knows, which is everything.
Paddy Dobson
20th June 2022