I am compelled to discover why history may end, perhaps why time itself will cease to be significant. I sense in my spirit a new future, a great mystery is to be revealed. I have know all my life of this mystery; it was told to me by my parents, it is called: The Meriothea. My parents came from the Age of Crisis as the world teetered on destruction, the atmosphere was self destructing and before the Atmospheric World Congress was formed by the men and woman of Science and Humanities. They had mapped the human genome, put a man on Mars, yet had failed to resolve the problem of the atmosphere and world weather. Before, the world was just too superstitious from the disaffections of ten thousand years of religion to have the collective will or intellect to solve the world condition. A herculean task to repair the ailing atmosphere, overcome social chaos, develop a new world order. No small task, it was in vain, things had gone too far. Now only my parents, the Children from the past, the subject of this journal made the new world I live in and it is they who will let us know what the Meriothea brings. Let us return to another time, the age of crisis.