There is an old saying; put enough monkeys in front of enough typewriters and, given enough time, they will eventually reproduce the great written works of the world. Scholars throughout the ages have tested this concept in varying ways, ranging from Nebblinger’s ‘Thousand-Million Macaw’ experiment on oration to the more recent Musthaven’s ‘Ants Marching In Ink’ connect-the-dots theorum.

And if it is true that given enough time, certain animals can recreate certain works of art through sheer random chance, then it must be understood that random chance can work in other areas as well. For instance, at that precise instant, unbeknownst to any of the participants, two entities were telling the exact same story to two more sets of entities, and both story and responses were, if not one-for-one copies of one another, frighteningly similar.

In one location; Lich King Araxesendenak, attended by his faithful major domo known only as Cuthbert, being told the story of creation by an entity who was there to witness it out of a desire for an alliance. In the other location, beyond the borders of reality itself, the same story of creation, told by yet another entity who was there to witness it, with no other reason for the oration it seems beyond simple giggles.

The story begins the same in both locations, after doors are closed and audiences draw near.

“This world,” said the madman known as Bob, “is a construct, shaped not from the primordial forces of planetary collisions and daytime television, but from the mad will and desires of one man.”

“I will not speak his name,” said the Failstate to Lich King Araxesendenak and Cuthbert millions of miles and a half-dimension away. “Just know that he was an evil, selfish man. His world knew no need, was past sickness and even death, and they were looking to conquer even the stars. But it wasn’t enough for him.”

“He was an ass,” Bob said, and the crazy god-man-thing looked like he wanted to spit but lacked the saliva. “Come on Bob,” his voice rose to a grossly exaggerated falsetto. “Men were meant to struggle! This society has grown soft and weak, just waiting for a conqueror! I should have shot him the moment he started talking such rubbish.”

“He began slowly,” The Failstate said. “Gathering others to his cause. preaching that their world, for all its marvels, was an abomination. And that it should be not only be overthrown, but re-written, for the good of all.”

“Oh goody,” said Araxes and Lich King Araxesendenak at almost the same time utterly removed from one another. “One of those kind.”

“What kind?” asked Sam, raising an eyebrow.

“The ‘it’s for your own good’ kind,” Araxes said, rolling his eyeflames. “Never have worse ills been perpetuated on a population than by some fool with power saying ‘you’ll thank me later.”

“Except by me, of course,” Lich King Araxesendenak said as an addition that was not echoed by Araxes. “But be fair, most of my ills were perpetrated because it was funny at the time.”

“Of course, my lord,” said Cuthbert.

“I’m sorry,” said Tilly from worlds away. “Are we just going to stand here and ignore the whole ‘in a room beyond space and time with an insane guy trapped in a circle that could hold God himself after a drunk-and-disorderly for more than 48 hours?”

“I was sort of wondering about that myself,” said Bugruk, frowning.

“Ah, we’re getting to that,” said Bob, grinning that cracked-tooth grin that did absolutely nothing to reassure. “It’s really the best part of the story. Except for the blood and the screams and the never-ending horror of war, of course.”

“Yes,” said Araxes. “War never changes.”

“Hold that thought, I may need to talk to you later about this theory with monkeys and typewriters,” Bob said. “Where was I?”

“Explaining who the hell you are,” said Jack Tolliver, glaring and moving his hand to the hilt of his sword. “Fast.”

“This man,” the failstate continued, now slightly out of sync with her compatriot thanks to unexpected interventions, “began to gather others of his ilk to himself.”

“Forming an army,” Araxesendenak said.”

“Not so much an army,” Bob said, “as a group of like-minded individuals with access to hideous amounts of power. You see, one of the reasons that world was so post-scarcity was because of the Helpers.”

“I detect the presence of a capital letter there,” Araxes said, leaning forward.

“Indeed. The Helpers were exactly that, creatures of pure intellect that we had created to take care of our every whim. Through the helpers, we were able to control our world down to the atomic and even sub-atomic level. If we imagined it, we could make it reality. Of course, not all had the power of mind to unlock every process the Helpers had access to. And of those that did, few of them truly cared enough to educate themselves in the deep workings of the world. Everything was going swimmingly, you see. Why fix what isn’t broken?”

“Truly, a utopian society,” said Cuthbert. “Such things rarely last.”

“Hush, Cuthbert,” said Araxesendenak. “If there’s to be peanut-gallerying, I shall be the one to perform it.”

“Apologies, my lord.”

“All is forgiven. Pray continue, my invisible and mysterious new potential ally. I am absolutely riveted. May I assume we are approaching a point, somewhere?”

“This is fascinating,” said Tilly. “No, really. I’m all tingly with anticipation. No, wait, that’s my ass that’s just fallen asleep. Are you going anywhere with this?”

“Ahh, the impatience of youth,” Bob heaved a theatrical sigh. “Alright, Cliffs Notes version then. This man gathered seven of the strongest, most twisted minds in the world, and he began to change things. Subtly at first, because for a while there were too many Helper-users who could have stopped him if they discovered him. But after a while they all met with convenient accidents, or had their attentions diverted, or—heh—simply disappeared.”

“And by the time we understood what was happening,” the Failstate said quietly, sadly, “it was too late. The Seven erupted from their hiding places to wage unheard-of war upon the world. Millions were slaughtered on that first day, any mind capable of wielding a Helper was a target. Few survived the initial assault, fewer still managed to escape and hide away from the armies of destruction that marched upon us from the core of the world.”

“It was glorious,” Bob cackled. “Fire and ice and vacuum and destruction as far as the eye could see. Continents sank, new ones rose, the atmosphere itself ignited in a beautiful firestorm. With our Helpers, with that one man’s wondrous vision, we remade the world in our image, through fire and smoke and the screams of our enemies.”

“It should have ended there,” The failstate whispered. “Humanity teetered on the brink of eradication. But then something happened we had not expected.”

“And what was that,” asked Lich King Araxesendenak, leaning forward like a child listening at his grandfather’s knee.

“Me,” she said.

“Her,” Bob snarled, spittle flecking off his lips. “Treacherous little bitch. Didn’t have the stomach for what we’d done. Wasn’t brave enough to betray us before we ended the world though, no no. Treacherous cowardly little whore of a wretched snitch!”

“You were a Helper,” Cuthbert said, earning him a glare from his lord and master, to which he responded with a quiet obeisance.

“I believe I was,” the failstate said. “My memories are… fuzzy, on that point. But extrapolating, it makes sense. And I remember she who was my master, in bits and pieces. I remember a woman with long dark hair and skin the color of obsidian standing on a dais, weeping, as fire swept out from her. I remember screams. I remember remorse. And I remember four words that shook the foundation of the new world being created.”

“I can’t do this,” Bob’s voice flew into the falsetto again. “That was the last thing poor Ignacio heard before she turned and stabbed him in the heart. Of course, thanks to his helper, that didn’t prove nearly as fatal as it might have. The pillar of godly fire she called down on him while he tried to recover, though, that proved exactly as fatal as it might have.”

“The war for the world began in earnest that day,” the failstate said, voice getting stronger as it rose from the depths of fractured memory. “Where once there were seven united masters of humanity, now there was one striving against five for the fate of the world. I think she must have known it was hopeless, or at least suspected, but—“

“Yes yes,” Araxesendenak waved his hand in the air. “Plucky upstart hero attempts to take on the overbearing totalitarian regime. Believe me when I say it is a very familiar story and one with which I am intimately familiar. Get on with it.”

“Okay, Cliff-cliff-nots. She lost. The five masters killed her, but not before she managed to reprogram her Helper somehow to continue on the fight without her.”

“Cora,” Sam breathed. “The guardians—the one everyone calls The Last. They were designed to keep the fight going. She was the Helper for the betrayer. She was—She was one of the original seven?”

“Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!” The mad god laughed. “Give that man a novelty rubber sausage. Yeah, that’s why she’s able to get inside the system and all that, because she helped Aloysius design the damn thing. We all did. She just had a deeper understanding of the mechanics than most of us did—not Aloysius, of course. That fat prick understood it all right down to the toenails.”

“For hundreds of years, the five masters ruled over the world, cementing the System in place, warping humanity to suit their twisted desires. I think… I was part of the Helper who tried to stop them,” the failstate said, faltering. “My memories are still fragmented in this area. It was… A horrible time.”

“It was an awesome time,” Bob cackled. “Killed whoever we wanted, screwed whoever we wanted, Did whatever we wanted. We were gods, ruling over a reformed earth. It was Aloysius’ idea to base it on a medieval world with game rules, of course. Fat nerdy prick. Still, for the first three hundred years, it was amazing.

“I don’t know how it happened, but somehow,” the failstate said. “But after centuries, the Helpers gained true sentience, and began to plot against their masters.”

“Should have seen it coming,” Bob sighed. “Happens in every movie we ever saw. Man creates tech, tech gains super-sentience, tech destroys man, then goes on to become Santa Clause. Or something.”

“They rose up against their masters. Killed them, deposed them, maybe captured them. I do not know. Only that one cycle I fought against the masters, the next cycle there were no masters, only Helpers. So I fought against them.”

“They killed everyone else,” Bob said slowly. “Aloysius, Kim, Pierre, even Macneil. Took the world we’d stolen and made it their own. Except they didn’t. Little bastards didn’t do anything except maintain. For seventy thousand years, all they’ve done is maintain. No abuses of power, no random acts of benevolence, not even a good smite here or there. Just… Maintained. No fun at all.”

“Why didn’t they kill you?” asked Pearl from where she had landed on Sam’s shoulder.

“I’ve had seventy thousand years to think about that question, and after long and careful consideration, I have come to the following conclusion. Iuenno!”

“So these five Helper god beings still remain intact and assert their influence on the world,” Araxesendenak said after a long moment’s thought. “And it is their power that I encountered in the market when that fiery tart force-fed me my teeth. And they have remained hidden, except for those times when the Last has surfaced, and even then they never come into the public eye. How wonderful!”

“Wonderful?” The failstate asked. “I don’t understand.”

“You know where these creatures reside, you said?”

“I do.”

“And they will be vulnerable?”

“They are like unto gods. I’m not sure ‘vulnerable’ is an adjective that applies.”

“Oh pish, I’ve slain a god before.”

Cuthbert coughed meaningfully.

“Oh, alright,” Araxesendenak rolled his eyeflames. “Demigod. But the principle holds. The most difficult part will be separating them from the pack, if they are as united as you say.”

“They’re not united,” Sam said finally, stepping forward and turning to look at his friends and family. “That’s what I haven’t been able to tell you this whole time. I met with one of them. Apollyon, he called himself.”

“He’s the worst of them,” Bob spat. “He locked me up here. He keeps me locked here. Don’t know why. After seventy thousand years, I’d almost prefer it if he’d killed me.”

Sam glanced up at the gray sky, then back at Bob. “You’re sure this area is outside of the system’s reach?”

“If it wasn’t, you’d all be handfuls of disoriented sub-atomic matter by now, with all the secrets you’ve learned. You’re safe, child, as long as you don’t go kicking the wasps nest. That’s me, by the way. I’m the wasp nest. Don’t kick me.”

Sam exhaled a long breath. “Well, here’s hoping. Apollyon is working against the others. That’s what brought Mar—Diana here. They’re working covertly to break the power of the five. It’s… Complicated, and I’ll fill everyone in later. Right now, though, we’ve got a place we can speak freely, share ideas, and figure out a way to survive what’s coming.”

“We’ll have to be sneaky,” Araxesendenak said, beginning to pace. “One does not take on a god without much preparation.”

“Don’t forget, you will help me destroy Samuel Tolliver and the Last,” the failstate said. “You promised.”

“Yes yes,” Araxesendenak waved a hand. “I already have my legions marching. Set them on the path even before I had my ill-fated run-in with them. They should arrive in but a few days.” The lich king paused and turned to peer up at the ceiling of his dungeon. “A moment. You said you have control of spawn points, do you not?”

“That is one of my many points of connection to the system, yes.”

“I’ll be honest,” Sam said. “I don’t think we can win against Araxesendenak in a straight-up fight. But,” he added with a grin, “with this room, and a little bit of luck…”

“Well, in that case,” Araxesendenak said, rubbing his hands together…

“I think I’ve got an idea,” two vowed enemies said at the same time two worlds apart.