8 long years have passed. A cry rings out in the void, piercing the silence. Phantasms of culinary delight circle, delirious, nipping like vultures upon the pangs of embodied hunger.

Somewhere, a chime... A vision - a vast, white room. At it's center, a revolving glass plate - symbolic of the eternal recurrence. Blinding neon glyphs mark the passing of time. 

Soon.