To tell my story I must reach far beyond the past. I must reach backward in time to the misty ages when the world was flat. There were mastodons and saber-toothed tigers. Man was a puny creature, with a flickering fire at the entrance to his cave, and with an even smaller light behind his eyes. There were giants in those days: monstrous creatures, half-man and half-god. The earth trembled beneath their feet, and the winds blew at their beck. Their voices echoed as cataracts boomed in deep gorges or as boulders avalanched down mountainsides.
Gradually, during the next eon or two, man's intelligence flamed. Myths melted before new knowledge, and the earth slowly became round. And within the earth were entrapped the giants. Even today an occasional earth tremor reminds us.
As man developed, he soon fashioned his own giants. He found the material among his fellow men: Aristotle,