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For John Sevcik, who never had to buy the Meaning of Life from me for a quarter.
I think that all gods were men once, and, further, that they did not choose or seek out their divinity, but were swept along by events like twigs in a flood-swollen river, until at last the current became holy, and they lost sight of the shore of human mortality, and came into the light.
.....
Ginna got down, stared, and gasped.
All the way to the horizon, towers taller than any he had ever seen filled the land. They were hollow and broken off at the tops. Each had hundreds of empty windows. Sometimes slender bridges stretched between them. Sometimes these were broken halfway, and sometimes the towers themselves were little more than suggestions of shapes in heaps of rubble. And at the feet of them were shells of countless lesser buildings, all nearly buried beneath the talus of fallen masonry and sand. A few stranger shapes, taller than anything else, flickered over the city like shadows cast by a candle in a drafty tunnel, not substantial at all.
.....