elaborate three dimensional sculpture that stuck out from the ceiling, depicting an intricate scene of figures and telling a story of some great saga of war and peace, pride and prejudice, love and hate, faith and betrayal, all combined to make the greatest mural: history, the story of time itself. As I looked in awe upon its beauty, I was startled by a voice coming from an unseen figure somewhere on the center platform. It said, "Jehu, you have come at last. Welcome." The voice was very gentle and pleasing to the ears, slowly and confidently spoken, meticulously articulated. I looked around in its direction and saw a short, elderly gnome with a long white beard reaching to his chest and a short crop of hair on his oblong head, which was outfitted with a sharp, angular nose, a pair of sparkling eyes, and two protruding ears. He was no more than four feet tall, and no less than three, with a dignified poise to him, and was dressed in a dark robe with a black and gold design on it. We looked at each other for a moment, he smiling pleasantly and me expressionless, for though I felt that I should be surprised, or at least bewildered, at the sight of a gnome in an underground cavern, I was not, it was as if I had almost been expecting it to happen, as if in the back of my mind I had already been there and done that. Perhaps it was only a case of predestined deja vu, or maybe it was something less tangible. Either way, the gnome then broke the silence again, saying: "Let me introduce myself, Jehu. I am Onan, the Lord of the Past, and these are the Chambers of History." He then paused for a moment, waiting for my reaction, which was, again, not too much surprised, but rather complacent, thought I didn't look bored or snobbish, as is sometimes the case in that situation. Instead I became as genial as possible, realizing that whatever force was behind this, it was greater than I. "Hello, Onan, it is pleasure to meet you," I said, advancing with a proffered hand extended towards him, which I realized belatedly made me appear oafish, but he took it good-naturedly, and with his pleasantness eliminated my unease at shaking the hand of one half my size. He then beckoned for me to follow him, and turned and walked to the center of the platform, where he unexpectedly laid down on his back, facing the muraled dome. I did the same, somewhat hesitantly, though I found it to be quite comfortable once I was down. He saw my sluggishness and by way of explanation said to me: "Do not be troubled, my dear Jehu, for we lie on our backs to bring about clarity of mind." Then he continued speaking, calling my attention to the sculptured dome: "That is history," he said. "What do you mean," I asked, "I've always viewed history as an organic being, constantly growing as it devours the present."