Years ago, I dreamt of a man who wandered alone through a ruined landscape. Humanity had long since been laid low by war and disease. After generations of ever-weakening survivors, he was the last man alive. Despondent and lonely, he sifted through the rubble of towns and cities, gathering fragments of metal, glass and machined lumber. Such things must have importance, he reasoned, since they endured the catastrophe. From this eccentric collection, he fashioned strange objects of worship and placed them in and around each ravaged place he visited.