The Cyclopean Sibyl’s past is shrouded in faulty memories and half-truths. No one remembers when he arrived, nor when his words of wisdom would mend fences and squash umbrages. He once served as an oracle to a king, but lost his foresight when time stopped having meaning. He once served as counsel to priests, but lost his voice when the time for rest had ceased. Or maybe he once served as the voice of the people, but stopped talking altogether?