All the Ideas were extinct. A rare creature. An elusive inhabitant of the human mind. None were left. What remained were empty halls and well-worn paths where they once wandered and hid. The Folk, in such deep denial, searched still in vain for Ideas. They traced their hands along old markings and sung old tunes, driving themselves mad. The Great Stale overtook them. From the dust of their remains, perhaps one day the Ideas will return.