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I surmised he was speaking of those entropic regularities that apparently prevailed in reality as we know it, the loss of energy, its transformation into the ashes of the stellar night. "It will grow cold and dark," said Misk. I looked up at him. "But in the end," said he, "life is as real as death and there will be a return of the ultimate rhythms, and a new explosion will cast forth the primitive particles and we shall have another turn of the wheel, and someday, sometime, in eons which defy the calculations even of Priest-Kings, there may be another Nest, and another Earth, and Gor, and another Misk and another Tarl Cabot to stand upon a windy hill in the moonlight and speak of strange things". Misk's antennae looked down at me. "Perhaps," he said, "we have stood here, on this hill, thusly together, unknown to either of us, already an infinite number of times". The wind seemed now very cold and very swift. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter )