As planned, everyone was present at the opening except Fleur-God herself, Rose of the Winds, and his wife Sixhundredsixteenlegs, an australopithecine female with highly developed verbomotor skills, whom Fleur-God had created for him. Marilyn, too, was nowhere to be seen. These absences did not fail to worry Henri. The Lulum had been wandering about... and the path to finding his half-moon was far from obvious.

What struck the mayor of Joujou City most was the remarkable progress Rose of the Winds had made in so short a time. Every stage of his psychoanalysis, completed in one long but single session. Freud and Jung’s work on Rose had been so effective that, according to them, their patient gave the impression of having humanized himself. Rose’s efforts at self-improvement had been beautifully rewarded by the arrival of Sixhundredsixteenlegs. Was he sincere? Was it a trap?

Now that he had a sex and a companion... what would he do? Sisse, the nickname Rose had given her, was a heavyset red-haired woman, but very intelligent. A bit like Adam’s rib, God had fashioned this companion from one of Rose’s horns just before blessing him. Had Rose been a unicorn? No—hornless now, he could pass unnoticed.

Henri shared with Tonton Maxime, Potato Peels, and Guili-guili the distressing situation that was troubling him.

— Here is the plan, Henri. We shall explore the north, south, west, and east. You others, search the tiered skies.

— Don’t forget to use your marvelous and efficient zirgouille, Tonton! Henri Toutrec tried to say reassuringly.

But he was also thinking: “Did Rose and Sisse kidnap Fleur and Marilyn?”

So Henri set off in search of Marilyn and Fleur-God, with that growing anxiety.

As he walked, he kept thinking back to the kidnapping he himself had carried out. He imagined himself in Rose’s place.

He tried to guess how Rose might be acting at that very moment.

— But where could he have gone?... How could he make Marilyn go unnoticed? And how could he control Fleur? Another voodoo doll? It must be that... like two heads are better than one... with the help of his wife, he must have come up with some unbelievable trick. How is one not to become paranoid? thought Henri, who was also trying to remain phlegmatic.

He could do nothing about it. All his concern was focused on the fate Marilyn might be facing.

— In my anxiety, I forgot where I was supposed to search! The skies!

Then Henri made his way to the stone that concealed the sixth sky and entered it. Moments later, he found himself one level lower. It felt very strange to fall from the seventh. In reality, he was not falling from very far at all—barely two meters.

Only when he looked up at the sky of the sixth heaven did he understand that the effect was miraculous, because there were not two meters between him and it, but an immensity. He, who was already not very tall—how was he to get out of this?

Climb back up to the seventh sky? How? And should he?

But he had no time to brood over his fate. He could think only of his half-moon. He wondered which direction he ought to take in the sixth sky. His Lulum appeared, then vanished at once.

— Where am I? Is this the sixth one? he asked a passing thought.

— You are in the land of lost thoughts. Oh! I see one. Say nothing. Be quiet, and I shall be quiet too!

— The thought indeed said nothing more, but kept circling around Toutrec, who began to feel a slight dizziness. When the lost thought drifted away, the conversation resumed.

— All right! It’s gone! Where were we?

— You were telling me that we were in the paradise of lost thoughts...

— Indeed! They are all here. The good and the bad, the tender and the twisted, the brilliant and the ugly, and so on. The most dangerous are those most easily forgotten—and those one ought to remember. Thoughts such as: Where did I put my keys? — Or... — What was I supposed to do? — What is his name? All those things you cannot remember. God is too sentimental. Don’t you think?

— Damn it! Fleur-God! Marilyn! I need to search elsewhere, Henri Toutrec concluded in panic, and at once began digging, since he could not climb back to the sky above. He dug and blew, hoping with all his heart to find his sweetheart, his cornerstone, his Norma Jean. Above all, he hoped there was another sky below—and that no lost thought would follow him.

— The threshold between the sixth and the fifth proved no harder to pierce than the floor above. He did not take time to look before jumping down. He did not hurt himself there either. And the firmament of that sky was as high as that of the other two.

— Another world awaited him, even more astonishing than the one before. It was the paradise of emotions and feelings.

— Henri saw himself like a ghost, through images and sounds. Powerful memories. Emotions felt in different ages by dissimilar beings.

— The farther back in time they went, the more painful they became. But there too were his own emotions, crossing his path. As a man who had always repressed them, he avoided looking directly at them. It would have been a fascinating world for the psychoanalysts of Rose of the Winds. He even encountered an attachment disorder that made him dig again... because it reminded him of his love for Marilyn. He blew as he dug, never ceasing to hope that he would find her further down.

— This time, in falling, he sprained his foot. Without even lifting his head, he sat down and rubbed his ankle. He was fuming, thinking, “How can I be stupid enough to injure myself as a soul?” At last he looked up to see where he had landed this time. The flora and fauna were identical to those of the seventh sky. Were forgotten feelings drifting through the space of this one?

— Henri saw only a small group of individuals talking together in peace.

— Noticing Henri and his sore ankle, one of them rose and approached him:

— “Did you hurt yourself?” asked the man in the long white robe, who resembled a rabbi.

— Then he placed his hands upon the injured foot without saying a word.

— At last, he stood up.

— “There, you are healed.”

— “Thank you, my foot no longer hurts. But who are you?” Henri asked, relieved.

— “Careful! Duck! Here comes a new fable,” the man said quickly, without any sign of nervousness.

The fox and the cunning one flew past, making the air whistle.

— “Where do they come from? What is this proverb?”

— They come from everywhere. Perhaps even from a very ancient past. They have never been spoken aloud, never pronounced—only thought, reflected upon, or inspired. They may have been written by strangers, by wise women or men, known or unknown. But beware of being struck by one of them, for it would become an obsession in you. Here comes another one!

The cat and the mouse drifted past them in a languid zigzag.

— I introduce myself. I am Jesus of Nazareth. Perhaps you have heard of me?

— Who hasn’t heard of you?

— Oh! Plenty of people, believe me. I can read your thoughts. You call yourself Pen Name.

— Call me Henri.

— Are you a new god?

— A god? Me!... Why do you ask me that?

— Because here... there are only gods. Come! I shall introduce you to my friends.

— At that moment, Jesus and Henri Toutrec found themselves among the group. Henri was astonished when Jesus introduced him to members from different ages.

— My friends, let me introduce Henri! In truth, he claims not to be a god, and yet he is here among us.

— When these mysterious beings heard this, they could not help laughing. For even prophets laugh. Once calm returned, Jesus continued the introductions.

— Henri, let me present to you, in the order of a sundial, the companions with whom I was conversing. Here is Buddha, the wisest of the group. Thor, the Nordic god; he is sleeping because he consumes too much melatonin. Mohammed, a true brother to me. The one before you is the Great Manitou. The woman wearing a soldier’s helmet is Athena. She is here to maintain order in case we do not get along. Abraham, one of my precious ancestors. The one dressed as an Egyptian goddess is Hathor; her specialty is carnal love. Her thoughts are a little tangled. In fact, we joke that she does Thoth to Thor and through. These are the ones who take part in the reflection. Without boasting, we are one of the most prolific discussion groups. Here comes a quotation—everyone, duck, said Jesus.

— Everyone obeyed without a word.

“All messages exist only in a temporal function” flew over them in a block, dropping multicolored stamps that faded as soon as they touched the ground...

— Prolific?... But what are you doing here? And who makes up the other groups? Henri Toutrec resumed, as if nothing had happened.

— So many questions at once! Do you not know that simplicity is the only beacon that allows one to navigate safely? Still, I shall try to answer you... The other groups are composed of different gods from different places. But there are also those who possess the gift of ubiquity. They belong to several mythologies at once. They can sleep and preach simultaneously. As for your first question, we do nothing but discuss wisdom. It is a great day for us. We have learned that the Creator is now... a creatress, and that she has removed, annihilated evil from the universe. You know, we even invite and consult certain philosophers who give us captivating talks on relevant subjects...

— Have you invited Tonton Maxime?

— You know Tonton Maxime, the guardian of the void?

— Surprise briefly overtook those sages, and then Buddha could not help making a remark.

— If you want my opinion, Jesus, that little god is surely the simplest among us and the most skillful. You see, he leads us toward the astonishment of his thoughts without pretending to advance as a god.

— But I am not a god! Damn it!

— Damn it!?... There it is. Proof enough that you are not a god. But then, what are you doing here?

— I am hunting the devil who kidnapped my half-moon.

— Henri did not dare trouble the group further with the matter of God’s disappearance for a second time.

— Can you help me find the devil? Henri asked, wondering how long he had already spent speaking with those gods.

— Mechanically, they all ducked again, for fables and quotations were now passing through in a steady stream.

The little one and the sweet owl, followed masterfully by: “The soul responds only to sincere invocation, only to absolute love.”

— Find the devil! You cannot be serious. We have always been trying to avoid him. But if he were ever to show himself here, rest assured that we would lecture him until the end of his eternity...

— Henri felt more than lost among those erudite, wise, and various gods, beings who seemed to transcend even the greatest innocence. So, while trying to keep his thoughts to himself, he strove not to appear too transparent, too honest. “This confession proves they have not seen him. I must go now and continue on my way. If I pass through here again, I shall tell them the whole absurd story. I must find Marilyn. It is urgent! I must dig down to the third sky.”

— As he dug, a quotation that brushed timidly past him made him reflect upon his epic... “Whatever the kingdom, there is always a lesson to be learned from a journey.”

— Very aware of the disturbance he would cause those philosophical gods if he passed from the fourth to the third sky under their gaze, he pretended to withdraw in order to meditate alone for some forty days. A pretext for digging down to the “lower” level.

— Upon reaching the third sky, he thought at first that it was snowing. Yet those soft flakes gave off a gentle warmth. He even had the feeling that they were watching him. Carried away by the wonder of the scene, and wishing to understand better the structure and nature of those wavering grains, he extended his hand to pick up one that had settled upon him. Just one.

— Just as his fingers brushed against it, a voice intervened...

— If you touch one of these children, you’ll be cooked like an egg!

— What? Like an egg? Children? Who is speaking?

— I, the guardian of limbo. What are you doing here? No one is allowed to frighten these embryo souls. Some of them are already ready for the seventh sky. They are easily disturbed. Quickly, leave before your presence affects them. If you do not do so within two celestial moments, I shall return you to the very state they are in. So, unless you want to begin again from scratch, follow my advice! You may leave by the same route. I have already sealed the firmament. These little ones must not leave the third sky. Go! I shall close it behind you.

— Shivering, Henri did not need to be told twice. Nor did he open his mouth to ask whether the devil had passed that way. He had grasped the fragility of that place, the sensitivity of those beings awaiting either the midst of a copulation or, less fortunately, a test tube. And who knew whether, by lingering, he might not swallow one of those little angels.

— With the utmost caution, he dug again into the ground. Once this was done, he threw himself, “body lost” first, into the atmosphere of the second sky—not without receiving some of the earth from the third sky on his head.

— As he fell, Henri had the impression that he had never left the third sky. It looked identical. Flakes drifted everywhere. The same warmth filled them. This time, he did not try to touch anything. He knew these were living beings.

— You are not in your proper place. Only those who believe in it are reincarnated here. Do not move! Wait! I am receiving a telepathic communication from the guardian of limbo, Henri heard. The voice was different—deeper.

— Obediently, Henri, who since his violent death had seen everything imaginable, nodded patiently to the order. All he heard was: “Yes... mmm... I see... mmm... yes, mmm, very well! Mmm... all right! Well then! Let us have lunch together one of these days. Cheers!”

— Henri fell silent. At last, someone was speaking to him again.

— Quiet! he said to the voice.

— Why do you ask me to be quiet? I, the guardian of this sky.

— I do not want to harm these souls.

— Do not worry. Souls destined for reincarnation are immune to certain shocks. They are more resilient than the newborn souls in limbo. They are used to collisions. They have seen worse. Though, like everyone else, they are not particularly fond of trauma.

— Glad to hear it.

— Well then! You certainly have quite a history behind you! The guardian of the third sky has just told me about it. He learned some things from even higher up—information passed on to him by the Universal Society of Gods and Prophets. Who themselves heard it from a philosopher who claims to come from the void. Or something like that. Which is ridiculous, since the void does not exist! At any rate, this one came from a little higher up, from everywhere. It even seems that he passed from sky to sky by eating ratatouille... or zirgouille. Well, something along those lines.

— Perhaps he will come and join me? He knows full well that Marilyn is probably in danger. And Fleur?

— Henri drew one deep breath, then another...

— Too bad! I cannot wait any longer for Tonton Maxime.

— The Lulum reappeared, then vanished again.

— I’ll find Marilyn on my own. Goodbye!

— Henri, who was beginning to grow more skilled at digging holes between the heavens than at combing his hair, needed only a few moments to vanish and then appear on the level below.

— And wait!... The voice of the second level, reacting very slowly, muttered in astonishment at the speed with which Henri had pierced the floor of its world. This fellow is much too tense. I had a message from an angel named Potato Peels to pass on to him! Oh well! Never mind—at any rate, I have work to catch up on, the guardian of reincarnation soliloquized, before quickly sealing everything again and making the breach disappear.

— In falling into the first sky, Henri truly hurt himself this time.

— He landed first upon an “i,” then upon a “3.” He stumbled over two double digits before dropping bottom-first onto three fresh letters. All he could see were letters and numbers, shapes, dots, signs, and lines. These elements came and went in multitudes of horizontal, vertical, and diagonal lines in every direction. At every angle! X, Y, Z! X’, Y’, Z’, and so on. This first sky was devoted to torn financial reports, erased sentences, scratched-out or forgotten words and figures, mistakes in mental or written calculations, oral examinations, and everything in the universe that had been said or written and then rejected. The sciences and arts, past and present—but neglected.

— Henri saw the guardian. It was not merely a voice, nor merely an angel. The guardian resembled both Proust and Einstein, with a moustache split into two styles—one side Marcel, the other Albert. The latter politely invited Henri to calculate and read with him everything found in the first sky.

— Stay with me! cried the double-function guardian. We could assemble these remnants and create new hypotheses, unpublished texts.

— My instinctive understanding of things shows me that Marilyn is not here, Henri stated as he dug into the ground, blowing air.

— Since he was beginning to grow used to falling, he escaped without injury. Except perhaps in his soul—but nothing more. He fell back to the ground, landing on the main street of Joujou City, which had been renamed Adolph Teresa Boulevard since his death.

— Since he was now only a soul, no one noticed him.

— Strange and fascinating questions whirled like maelstroms in the ex-CEO’s head.

— How? The universe and Earth are only the beginning of my world? A material base? Or multiple possibilities? Why has humanity never known anything about this? Marilyn? My God! Fleur! But why would I search for them here? How could Rose have brought them here? I shall have even more difficulty finding them here than in the infinite paradises. Tonton will come looking for me. Fortunately, Potato Peels gave me the gift of instinctive understanding. Phew!

— One thing, however, consoled him in the midst of the misfortune and the abyss into which he had fallen: the hope of finding them safe and sound. And above all, of taking his beautiful Norma Jean once more into his arms, within the aura.

— In Joujou City, everything was shut. Shops, restaurants, businesses—everything. Even the toy store and the pet shop had their doors closed. The temperature, however, was very pleasant. The sun seemed brighter to him than before his death, on the day when the enormous weight of his statue had smashed through the floor where he had set it, and had fallen on top of him. Yet despite the tardy migratory birds, which could no longer reach him with their droppings, Henri did not have the heart to laugh.

— He imagined Marilyn, bewitched by Rose of the Winds, preparing dainty little dishes for a tête-à-tête dinner with Sixhundredsixtysausages.

— How shall I ever reach the sky? How can I find Marilyn? I cannot go any lower. But where is she?

— As though to intensify the presence of Marilyn, whom he missed terribly, nostalgia for his city seized him. Henri decided to go toward the crescent known as Frisky Tail to see what his heirs had done with his house.

— The nearer he came to that neighborhood, where every street is named after a dog, the more people he saw heading in the same direction. He recognized his employees, the owner of the hardware store, the owner of the beauty salon—all of them.

— In the growing crowd, the closer he came to his house, he heard comments that were rather flattering to his ego. He often caught phrases like:

— It was at the madman’s place that this thing happened!
— I wonder what the factory founder has to do with all this?...
— Still, it was right after his death that all these phenomena began!

— He did not have to wait, as all those people did, to see what was happening at his place. He was shocked to discover that his house no longer existed. He could not understand how, in so little time, they had managed to plan and construct a building. He wondered how much time had passed since his death. One day.

— The building, shaped like a flying saucer, had as its sole decorative feature two large doors similar to those of paradise. Nothing more. Through one door entered people with anxious expressions; from the other emerged others, all smiles.

— Standing erect, one on each side of the entrance and exit, were four hunchbacks as tall as large angels. They wore long white raincoats reaching down to their heels. Henri would truly have been frightened of them if he had still been alive. So he moved forward to find out what the people of Joujou City were seeking inside.

— Hey, you! said the hunchback nearest Henri.
— What?... You can see me?
— Of course I can see you. What do you take me for, a blind angel?
— I was not judging you. But tell me, if I said that I am a revenant, in fact the ghost of the hero of this town who lived here not long ago... would that frighten you?
— Me, afraid of ghosts? You’ve got it all wrong! And your third eye too, snapped the hunchback, who wanted to urinate.

— The hunchback then turned toward Henri and gently placed a hand upon his shoulder, carefully, as though preparing to make a confession. Henri was astonished by the guard’s calmness.

— The dead do not frighten me. I deal with them every day... I must confess something to you. I do not know where you come from, but this is no museum. It is a station. A very special station. A station to the skies.

— A station to the skies?
— Did I not say it was special? And since you may truly be a ghost, if I were you, and wished to haunt the inhabitants of this charming town, I would not go inside. Because once you board, you may not wish to return.
— But where does one go, by entering this place?
— To the afterlife, sir! To the afterlife!

Henri inhaled joy, wonder, exuberance, to the astonishment of the hunchback. He may have discovered a way to return to the seventh sky, and thus perhaps finding Marilyn would become easier. Perhaps. His Lulum was returning to him more and more slowly. He had drifted far from Marilyn. Yet he was so overcome with delight that he threw himself around the hunchback’s neck.

— Hey! Careful of my wings, sir!
— Your wings! Then you really are an angel?

— Not so loud! We do not wish to frighten people. Yes, I am one—so what?
— Do you know Potato Peels and his friend Guili-guili?
— What? Do you know them personally?
— Of course! I come from paradise. I can even tell you that, not so long ago, your wings were probably coated in molasses.
— Indeed! However, what are you doing here?
— I do not have time to explain. I need to find Fleur-God and Marilyn Monroe, my Norma Jean, now. I can tell you no more. This idea God had—allowing the living to visit other worlds without dying—well, it may allow me to find my half-moon.
— If, in addition to knowing Potato Peels, you are in God’s good graces, then please, go in, concluded the angel disguised as a hunchback, pointing Henri toward a kind of poster inside. It looked like a map indicating the skies that the living were allowed to visit. There was the first, the fourth, up to the seventh. And even hell.

— This will surely be easier than digging holes between the skies. Let us see what this map says... Hell: floor “H”; sixth sky: floor “C”; fifth sky: floor “D”; seventh sky: floor “B”; divine domain: floor “A”. Other floors... inaccessible.
— Ah! So it is like an elevator, he murmured somewhat dreamily while reading the guide for the living. Then, without delay, he chose floor “A”. In an instant, he was there. The door opened. Before him stood a little sign. Upon it, in molded letters, was written: “We are waiting for you.”

Reading that notice, Henri felt somewhat weak, as he imagined that Rose of the Winds had once again seized the afterlife, and that the general had resumed his assaults on paradise. He imagined the message had been intended personally for him. Yet without thinking too long, he also supposed that God might have regained all her power, and that a warned God-woman is worth two. Most likely, such a thing could not happen again. He reassured himself. Tilting his head slightly, he went forward.

— A thick fog in God’s domain immediately dissipated. Fortunately, because his knowledge of death had taught him that such showy effects were merely part of the décor. The elevator door slammed shut behind Henri without anyone touching it.

— He was astonished by the afterlife he found there. Everyone was waiting for him—even Tonton Maxime, who had invited some “phis” from the fourth sky. Those same ones who were still conversing quietly among themselves.

— But what mattered to him was her, Marilyn in all her splendor. She was there, more beautiful than ever, standing right beside Fleur, who for the occasion was accompanied by a lovely Asian woman.

— Henri ran toward Marilyn and clasped her passionately in his arms, then slowly let his hands slide down along her arms, and, without breaking contact, stepped back and looked into her eyes.

— But what happened? I was so worried, so lost, so anxious! Did Rose of the Winds suddenly come to his senses and release you? Or was it God who finally caught up with him?
— None of that! I had nearly finished getting ready for the opening when Fleur came to fetch me. When she saw me in this lovely dress I am wearing—a dress Yves Saint Laurent designed and made for me from eucalyptus leaves—she was inspired. She asked me to come with her so that I could pose for her. It is incredible—Fleur chose me, Norma Jean, to pose for her.
— So all this time, you were posing for God. That I prefer. I was so afraid that Rose was torturing you or something of the sort.
— Rose! Ha! Ha!... He was certainly worried, and impatient too—but not because of the thought of seeing us together. Mmm! Guess where he was. Behind one bush! Then another. Then another. I think he visited every bush in paradise. Yes, hiding behind bushes—but with his australopithecine girlfriend!... They...

— What? And all the while I had been imagining the worst!
— You really love me, don’t you?
— I do not see how I could prove it to you any more clearly.

— God “Fleur,” who until then had said nothing, allowing the lovers the joy of finding one another again, understood that Marilyn no longer knew how to explain or clarify certain things to Henri. So, with all the majesty of her energy and the elegance her woman’s body could lend her, she asked Henri and Marilyn to follow her.

— Henri, I shall exceptionally grant you the privilege of seeing the work that Norma Jean inspired in me—and that before the opening which shall follow your wedding to Marilyn, animated by your Lulum.
— Marry me? I agree with all my heart. It is too great an honor you are giving me.

— The four of them moved among God’s masterpieces until at last they stood before that famous sculpture. Henri overflowed with praise.

— It is absolutely magnificent! Genius! Divine! Truly! You have rendered your Marilyn in granite with all the charm and elegance that surround her. And that garment she wears, the lines, the curves, the hollows... it is phenomenal! But may I make a small remark? Though it is more of a question.
— Go ahead, Henri! Do not hesitate, replied Fleur-God, who had not expected to be asked anything at all.
— Well, as I was saying, Marilyn is absolutely splendid. It is beautiful art. But what I do not understand is what inspired you to sculpt and add around her twelve little cherubs who gaze at her as if she were their mother. Why?
— It is simple, Mr. Toutrec. You yourself supplied the answer to your own question.
— I do not really understand, Henri replied, turning pale as though he were hiding something that he had only just realized.

— Then Marilyn intervened, appealing to the love Henri had for her.

— Those cherubs, darling, represent my children. The ones I should have had on Earth—and the ones you gave me.

— At first Fleur said nothing, and then she assured him...

— Do you really believe, Mr. Toutrec, that I, God, possess so little power, and above all so little love for life, that I would not grant my light to those beings who now live in paradise?

Silence.

— Then Fleur-God continued:

— These little souls lost through miscarriage or other paths. You know Norma Jean’s story. Yes, those cherubs are her children. Yes, though Marilyn could not be a mother on Earth... here, she is one. Yes, her children truly exist. And Norma Jean is not the only one in such a condition, believe me.

A new silence.

— This is not some special favor I granted her, for it is a rule. On Earth there is force and law. Here, there is force and life!

— But how can it be possible? I can understand for children of Earth. But we—we made love only a short while ago. It is a miracle. I was not even present at the birth! What will those little ones think of me? That I do not love them?... Where are they right now? Henri said, stunned, and yet overjoyed.

— Marilyn’s eyes filled with tears of joy; one could read infinity in the secret of her gaze.

— Their rainbow Lulum transformed into a small living sun, surrounded by every color.

— She—Norma Jean—quietly came closer to Henri, who opened his arms to her. They kissed like all new parents who love one another and know how to feel that love. After that long and tender kiss, they looked at one another for a long time, as though speaking without words...

— Then Henri looked at Fleur-God in such a way that she understood the impossibility, almost the futility, of being thanked for her gifts—for his joy was beyond anything he had ever known. Then, unable to bear it any longer, he broke that silence which could never be reproduced, nor described, in the material world.

— Well! We have a wedding to celebrate! A paradisal union. God, would you now grant me the grace of fetching our children so that they may attend the ceremony? And do not worry about your living works. During the opening, I shall amuse myself with the little ones. I shall care for them tenderly. I shall watch over them. I shall cherish them as dearly as Marilyn Norma Jean. Please—hurry... hurry, because I am impatient to meet them.

— Do not worry, Mr. Toutrec. It shall not take long. They are simply higher up, in the ninth sky.

— What? A ninth sky?

— Does that surprise you? There are infinitely many, multiplying exponentially, and they themselves are eternal, infinite, and exponential. But who do you think I am?... A mere rainy day?

THE END