The valley was vast.
Urizen found himself here, with little recollection of anything in his past, staring out at an immense white void. Standing in the middle of a valley, he gulped and it bulged his thyroid.
The matrix wind created the vaguest hymn. Amidst the silence, he nodded. A solemn veneer as an orb appeared. Taking in the incandescent beams of light that poured from this sphere, a roar to his ears, and with an electrical hiss, a thunderbolt fizzed into the mossy rock. Simmering with energy, there stood an office block. He showed no fear in his eyes as it materialised. It solidified with the softest... 'pop!'
With a groggy gait, a figure walked out. It sported a modest top, on it were stains, tac and a nondescript nametag. Drab brown trousers. A coffee: Hot. Urizen recognised the man as his manager. He slouched as he addressed him but Urizen didn't change character.
"Good morning Urizen. Are you ready for your personal development review? This year, we will start again anew. Put a new suit on. What to improve on. We only want the best for you."
It was similar to a limerick. Except, awfully out of time. Like a mediocre lyricist, he repeated this:
"Good morninn' Eyurizen. Arre you rready forr yourr perrsonal development rreview? This yearr, we will starrt again anew. Put a new syuit on. What to imprrove on. We only want the best forr you."
Now he was slurring his words. It became further absurd: As this aggrevated stressed fit aggressively manifested, he developed the nastiest of cleft lips... and his words turned to dirt.
"...ggooAOOod marni... rryoo rreAAd foOar purrsAOOOnul revooo?! ... thAOs yor, wOol ssssto aGAOon aNo ... nO soo ... ot tOO pRAOOve on ...EE oAnle ONT teh bAEs fO oo...."
His jaw started to drip. Eroding to sludge. The entirety of his lips, throat and his tongue melted into an ocean of gunk. Urizen stepped back. Mouth open and stunned. He turned on his heel and broke into a motionless run. He was stuck.
In the evolution of the muck and mire from his manager's jaw. At first, just shapeless lumps. But wider, Urizen turned to see the parameters soar. A humongous empire. Every company. Selling trucks and tyres, drug suppliers: Dubbed pharmacies. A conscious sea of bodies, businessmen, bachelors, broads. Skyscrapers topped with a hundred spires. Planes dragging fluttering flyers. All of the shoppers passive in awe. Urizen stood in horror. They had become nothing but buyers, packing the stores. Brainless, without moral fibre. Urizen became entwined in the traffic and clawed, screaming for mercy, but he couldn't make the surface. He'd have to make a purchase. He fell to the ground with a shuddering form. He stared at his legs, they were crumbling. What were they crumbling for? For this bastardised economy, funded by war? He cursed the universe, conventional reason and law, for they had forsaken him: But his tongue was ignored. He diminished. Decayed. Disintegrated.
It was a sunny Monday morning on Wall Street, New York.