My own religion, if you can call it that, had changed in its fundamental premise, but not its basic assertion: I’d always told religious friends that there may or may not be a God, but if there is one, I wouldn’t want to have him over for dinner. I’ll stand by that last part.

“But all I have is hearsay, passed on by others of my kind.”
“Including this ‘nameless’ stuff,” I said.
“That’s true. And at various times in my life, I’ve wondered whether it might not be a delusion—some sort of fiction that we share. Like a religion: there’s no way you or I could prove that the nameless don’t exist.”

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