At first, there was warmth.

An animal was born, the same as all animals were born. It writhed blindly, instinctually seeking the heat of its mother's body; and just as instinctually, its mother licked it clean. It cried, squirming, and latched to a teat, suckling milk.

It knew only darkness, the warmth of its mother, the soft bodies around it. When it was full it was content; and it when it was hungry, it cried for sustenance.

After some time, light entered its eyes; blurry, amorphous shapes that whirled about, sensory input it could not understand until it did. Its mother was grey-furred and streaked with black. The other soft bodies were in many different colors. They lay upon warm, coarse golden strings, in a corner, dark brown rising on all sides.

It could move on its own; it could cry, and hear its own cry, hear the sounds of others.

In this way, its world became real.

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