The Silent One has existed in Seattle for decades. Even it doesn’t know its true origins. Its memories were fleeting, swiftly vanishing as it consumed them for sustenance.
Then came the dream machine. There amid a debris of thousand thousand dreams lay a memory of the world as it was. It devoured that memory and it sustained it. Now it can subsist on passing thoughts, forgotten childhoods, and hours of lost time. Moreover, it can remember the events of day to day and plan and plot its next move.
Its next move is find more true memories, memories of vast machines that drive the universe, of impossible feats of magic, and of things that never were. Already it has learned to control more of its kind and to make tulpas, thought form agents formed out of imaginings and memory. It knows that a secret lies beneath the Hillcrest Mental Health Center, a secret guarded by its own thought forms.
A tiny emaciated figure cloaked in darkness and wearing a long white silk robe. Androgynous, its fingers are spider-like, it whispers and moves in silence, and its eyes are black orbs.