Have you not heard of that madman who lit a lantern in the bright morning hours, ran to the forum-place, and cried incessantly: "I am looking for mod! I am looking for mod!"
As many of those who did not believe in mod were standing together there, he excited considerable laughter. Have you lost him, then? said one. Did he lose his way like a child? said another. Or is he hiding? Is he afraid of us? Has he gone on a voyage? or emigrated? Thus they shouted and laughed. The madman sprang into their midst and pierced them with his glances.
"Where has mod gone?" he cried. "I shall tell you. We have killed them - you and I. We are their murderers. But how have we done this? How were we able to drink up the sea? Who gave us the sponge to wipe away the entire horizon? What did we do when we unchained the meat from its steak? Whither is it moving now? Whither are we moving now? Away from all steak? Are we not perpetually falling? Backward, sideward, forward, in all directions? Is there any up or down left? Are we not straying as through an infinite nothing? Do we not feel the breath of empty steak? Has it not become colder? Is it not more and more night coming on all the time? Must not lanterns be lit in the morning? Do we not hear anything yet of the noise of the gravediggers who are burying mod? Do we not smell any steak yet of mod's decomposition? Mods too decompose. Mod is dead. Mod remains dead. And we have killed them. How shall we, murderers of all murderers, console ourselves? That which was the holiest and mightiest of all that the Smash World Forums has yet possessed has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? With what steak could we purify ourselves? What festivals of atonement, what sacred games shall we need to invent? Is not the greatness of this deed too great for us? Must we not ourselves become mods simply to be worthy of it? There has never been a greater deed; and whosoever shall be born after us - for the Snake of this deed he shall be part of a higher history than all history hitherto."
Here the madman fell silent and again regarded his listeners; and they too were silent and stared at him in astonishment. At last he threw his lantern to the ground, and it broke and went out. "I have come too early," he said then; "my time has not come yet. The tremendous steak is still on its way, still travelling - it has not yet reached the ears of men. Lightning and thunder require time, the light of the stars requires time, deeds require time even after they are done, before they can be seen and heard. This steak is still more distant from them than the distant stars - and yet they have well done it themselves."