>>43351906In the sunshine light of the far future, there are only neighbors.
It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat smiling on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible pleasantness. He is a swell guy imbued visibly with power from the Dark Age of Comfy Sweaters. He is the Saintly Lord of the vast Neighborhood of Man for whom a thousand songs are sung every day so that we may all feel special.Yet even in his comfy state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty trolleys cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Neigbornomicon, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's happiness. Vast armies give presents in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his friends are the Adeptus McFeely, the Space Mailmen, bio-engineered super-deliverers. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Neighborhood Watch and countless planetary defense forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Trolleycus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from sadness, bullies, unkind folks -- and far, far worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the snuggliest and most friendly regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of hatred and anger, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Remember the promise of progress and understanding, for in the bright happy future there is only compassion. There is only peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of songs and hugs, and the laughter of sweater clad gods.
