(We see DM and Methos on a park bench, with Methos pondering a question)

Methos : You see, Macleod, things were once much different than they are now. The things you hold sacred were not the merest consideration as little as 500 years ago. Things you take for granted were held to be miracles. Foods you would consider rot were held to be delicacies. When we rode, there was a small desert revered so widely, even Kronos wouldn't cross it. There was knowledge lost, and ignorance gained. Nations vanished, and within a generation they were not even forgotten legends. Every star in the night sky held an amazing portent. Every day on every Calendar meant an Old One was slogging back from his pit, waiting for the hero who must needs triumph over it, only to be corrupted as the new host, but destroying the Old One in the process, as well. The world was once a great deal more brutal, but there was still room for gentleness and art. Leisure was not unheard of, though kings knew no hot tubs, only willing servants. Absolute power corrupted absolutely--unless you were wise. But at what price is such wisdom achieved? Knowledge itself is its own reward--as is survival. The world is nothing like what it seems, and yet it is also more itself than it is possible for you to know. But mere survival is never enough--and yet it remains the only thing worth having, in the last of it.

(Methos almost chuckles as DM gets up and starts to walk away)

Methos : What's the matter, Duncan? Don't care for the harsh truth of it all?"

DM : No, that isn't it.

Methos : Oh, really? Then why are you leaving, in such a huff?

DM : (Throws up his arms and yells)

Because I can't remember what my BLOODY QUESTION was!

(Leaves, shaking and mumbling; Methos sits there and gets a befuddled look)

Methos : You know----neither can I.
 

Goodbye to ATH for a time --- Rob