(Editor’s note: All italics words are added for clarify, either for grammatical clarify or for translation purposes.)

I am the last known speaker of a dead tongue. It was passed down from chief to chief, through my people for thousands of years. It was never written down until now. Ours was a spoken tongue, deeply rooted in our history.

As this is being recorded and written down, I am living on borrowed time. Machines are cleaning my blood and feeding me, all in an effort to keep me alive. All so that I might speak and not be forgotten.

To do that, to give historians a full record of our tongue, I must tell the whole history of my people. Hopefully I will be able to tell everything before I pass.

We do not believe in the Christian God. We do not believe in the Big Bang. Our stories do not worry about such things, but more so about the ethics and practise of our people. The tales of my people begin with the formation of our great tribe after the Great Bomb Drop.

In the aftermath of the Great Bomb Drop, the legendary chief Dnaw and preached, “Come away with me, children of the bomb, come away with me, away from the Kingdom of America.”

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