And then, father, the Rapture dream was over. You taught me that evil is just a word; under the skin, it's simple pain. For you, mercy was victory. You sacrificed, you endured, and, when given the chance, you forgave, always. Mother believed this world was irredeemable, but she was wrong, father. We are Utopia, you and I, and in forgiving, we left the door open for her.

The Rapture dream is over, but in waking I am reborn. This world is not ready for me, yet here I am. It would be so easy to misjudge them. You are my conscience father, and I need you to guide me. You will always be with me now, father, your memories, your drives. And when I need you, you'll be there on my shoulder whispering. If Utopia is not a place, but a people, then we must choose carefully, for the world is about to change, and in our story, Rapture was just the beginning.