Prologue: The Blackboard - Ayreon

The dew of morning still glistens on the salt grass that grows along the

foundation of the old Lighthouse.

It isn’t in active service anymore,

but has been renovated to serve as a private dwelling.

High in the tower

inside, a young man is slumped on the floor in the corner of the room,

apparently in some kind of trance.

Someone has put a blanket over him.

He is deathly pale, but the steady, almost imperceptible rise and fall of his

chest shows that he still clings to life.

Standing next to him are a young

woman and an older man.

Both are obviously shocked and distressed.

Their frequent glances toward the door give the impression that they’re

waiting for someone who is yet to arrive.

On the wall next to them is a

blackboard covered with impenetrable mathematical equations.

The older man is

holding a crumpled piece of paper -- it appears to be a note scribbled in haste

by an unsteady hand

What follows here is the story of what happened

Will we ever understand

This complex genius?

This visionary thinker?

Will we ever get this close again?

Uniting the forces

Of our universe

Will we ever understand

His isolation

Or his sense of wonder?

We will never get this close again

It’s been too long

I think he’s gone