Attic Chronicles 11/26/21...Last time I checked in with you guys, I was flying on the back of a Kenny Beats-esque demigod through the glass roof of the Temple of 808s. The following moments were definitely a blur, but when I found myself able to see again, we were overlooking this vast golden cityscape. From a bird’s eye view, I could see that the buildings were all arranged in a specific way. These massive shapes that on the ground appeared like skyscrapers, from up here looked like keys of a piano, alternating white and yellow gold. And they were moving as though some gigantic, invisible hand was playing them. Some keys would lower and others would rise back up, like a pneumatic player piano. I couldn’t make out the chords themselves, but it was advanced. Probably jazz. “What does it mean?” I asked the demigod. “It means it’s already written,” he replied. “I’m not sure I understand. What’s written?” “Everything.” “Who’s playing the keys?” “Exactly who you think.” If I was a