Order and Chaos

Nothing.

Nothing.

I was beginning to realize that, even though I was now a god, in reality I was powerless.

There was no way I could truly influence the outcome of events. The best I could hope to do was keep other, more devious deities from interfering. I'd diverted Greg's attention already, but I knew there were other matters to take care of. Matters like...

Nothing.

I knew it was here, even though I couldn't actually pinpoint its location. Lurking. Watching. Waiting to make its move.

Just like I was, come to think of it. We were both just waiting and watching. But what were we waiting for?

Nothing.

When you came down to it, we weren't, really. There was no particular moment that was more opportune than any other to make a move. So as the mob approached Mary, and started striking her with their fists, feet, and whatever weapons were at hand, we both made the same decision.

Nothing.

We let it play out, without any interference. And after an hour, as the army started gasping for breath, Mary was still fine, seemingly unharmed and full of energy.

"Is that all?" she asked. "What else do you have for me?"

Nothing.

They were out of energy to object. Mary had made her point. Of course, the whole army being exhausted meant that they'd need a day or so to rest, but it seemed she had their loyalty. Or at least fear, but that had worked well enough for her father.

But wait. She seemed disappointed.

"Well, that was hardly painful at all!" she grumbled as her exhausted army started slinking away. "Seems mortals can't do enough harm to me. I'm going to have to find something monstrous, or possibly divine. But what sort of creature could be around here that might pose a threat to me?"

Nothing.

And then it was upon her. This was the moment it had been awaiting - when Mary was alone.

Except she wasn't. I was still here, and I could surely find some way to protect her...

But my thoughts were suddenly diverted as I became aware of a new domain being appended to my title. I was now Milton Felus, God of the Apocalypse.

My first thought was that Greg had been right - with De in charge, nobody wanted the job, and like all the other throwaways, it had been tossed in Felus' direction. Which is to say, mine.

Except. Now that it was my domain, I was acutely aware of the progress of the apocalypse. The gods might not be working towards it, but it had already been set into motion.

I was going to have to stop it. But how? And was there any way I could help Mary while I was at it?

chemtrails

The apocalypse was already working, raining from the upper atmosphere down. First, it would kill off the flying cats, then the groundbound ones, then the burrowing ones and swimming ones. There was only one solution:

chemtrails

I had to fight fire with fire. Intuitively, I flicked my tail and flew high, high up into the sky, cushioned by constant farting. "Toot," and "phhbt," my butt said.

Behind me I left a visible cloud of

chemtrails

that hung, fixed in the sky, worrying all observers who were not otherwise distracted, such as Mary and the Nothing. Slowly, the

chemtrails

began to spread out and take over the whole sky of the world. Day turned to night in minutes.

The composition was precise. When the apocalyptic

chemtrails

finally hit my own

chemtrails

, mine would neutralize the existing feline-genocidal

chemtrails

and then both would immediately dissipate into absolutely nothing. Though this solution could take days to work, depending on the density of the apocalypse's

chemtrails

, I was satisfied that the apocalypse had been thoroughly spayed and neutered.

I saw a winged Turkish Vaan fall from the sky, deader than dead. An unavoidable casualty: he had simply flown too close to the sun, wondering about what was above the cloud cover. 'Twas curiosity felled the cat — may he rest in peace.

His corpse conked the Nothing on the head, which didn't phase it at all as it landed blow after blow on Mary. Mary, for what it's worth, was not striking back at all.

"It ſeemſ we are at a complete ſtalemate," she said calmly as it gouged out both her eyes with a proboscis. "Ah! Thiſ ſmarts. I can't kill you, and you can't kill me."

"I can do worse, you know," cackled the Nothing, shoving her face into the river. For all practical purposes, she was drowning: It just wouldn't kill her. I mused to myself whether Mary was getting into this sort of thing. Like... into. I brushed the thought away and continued to observe.

Eventually, when it had crippled Mary beyond speech or action, it buried her alive in a hole her own troops had dug. (Little did he know, at that very moment, Mary had already achieved her transcendent pain and had arrived at the home of the Gods.) Although she was perfectly fine after a night's rest, Commun and I had to literally dig her out of that one.

---

You are Prince Milton and you are dead-set on being as irrelevant (and irreverent) to the plot of this adventure or any plots to put you on the throne over your sister as you possibly can. What are you doing instead?

Building the biggest, wildest theme park-with-adjoining-wildlife-park Vendet... no, the world has ever seen!!!!

playing video games like a huge loser

playing video games like a huge loser

You are, of course, playing the latest offering from the kingdom's most underappreciated boardgame creator, Video Kojima. You're probably the only one here who sees his genius in making games that can be played without having to deal with another actual human being.

One day you might even win one of them. That day is not today, however. You haven't even made it close to removing the large metal gear in the center of the game board; you barely made it turn twice before losing.

So naturally, you're looking for something else to do.

Building the biggest, wildest theme park-with-adjoining-wildlife-park Vendet... no, the world has ever seen!!!!

And you're suddenly struck by a brilliant idea. You're looking for another source of amusement - so why not build a place specifically to amuse you?

You can probably even convince your mother to pay for the whole thing if you tell her that it's for a plan to take the throne. Yes, that would be perfect. Maybe you can even hire Video to design the place, he's good at entertaining you. You take a few moments to admire the sheer brilliance of this plan.

---

I shut off the spy camera. I'd seen enough, and I was tired of sarcastically describing Milton's actions.

Using my games to spy on the Prince had turned out to be a complete waste of time. He never did anything interesting, and he wasn't even learning the lessons I had included in them that would prepare him to be a great King. No, he was only concerned with his own entertainment.

Still, there was some good news in all that. I was, after all, about to get a significant amount of money in exchange for devising my greatest masterpiece. I might not be shaping the direction of the kingdom, as I'd planned, but becoming rich was hardly an unacceptable outcome.

Naturally, I started making blueprints for the park immediately. Milton, simpleton as he was, would be impressed that I was already working on exactly what he wanted.

To begin with, what would be the central attraction of this park?

TWO GEARS

I cannot support an adventure that kills cats >:c

TWO GEARS

Milton dismounted his albino camel before my cavemouth and threw his cape in with a flourish. The gusts picked it up and flew it back into his face, where he kept it.

"Video!" he hollered, voice muffled by capecloth. "I have come to commission from you a grand game. I am Prince Milton Vindictus, a huge fan of your work."

"Excellent!" I said, crawling out of my sleephole. "I have just the concept for a solo game what's board takes up acres... I will finally prove to all that Video games are art."

"The Citizen Kane of Video games!" said Milton.

"What's Citizen Kane?"

"I don't know!" said Milton. "What is this grand concept?"

"It is called A Tale Of Two Gears," I said.

"Remaining in your wheelhouse, I see. Or is that GEARHOUSE?"

I was obliged to laugh. Then, to bullshit. "In this case, the gears are metaphorical. It refers to the gears of history, always churning and meshing in unpredictable ways." Milton nodded. Now came the expensive part. "Nearby your castle I shall build a replica reflection of Castle Vendet, absolutely identical in every way. I shall scour the world for spot-on lookalikes for the people in Castle Vendet, besides yourself, who will act out my brilliant script until the boundaries between the game and real life make your head spin."

"Just like a gear," Milton nodded.

"Just, like, a, gear," I said.

[18:34:08] <Agenonthego> I want our pizza ruler to marry Elsa
[18:34:29] <Agenonthego> Then we can have frozen pizza princes and princesses

"Can you work pizza into it though?" Milton asked.

"What? That'll ruin the illusion!"

"I know, but I really like pizza. Can you make it, like, Candyland, but with pizza?"

I grumbled. "It'll cost extra."

"Done."

And that's the story of how there came to be an exact duplicate of Castle Vendet where everybody wore hats made to look like pizza.

---

So, you're Commun Marx, and once again Mary Vindictus has been so inconsiderate as to go barreling ahead in the plot without you. This one cat, possibly the same cat from earlier that set the Queen off on a fit but probably not, comes up and starts mewling and pawing at her fresh grave as soon as Nothing leaves.

You sigh, fetch a shovel, and get to work. It's hard work and the cat doesn't seem to want to leave you alone. You appreciate the company enough that at some point during that long night of digging, you actually start talking to it. What do you say?

Cat
have you ever thought about how gear trains worked

Meow.

Cat
have you ever thought about how gear trains worked

"Cat," I began, seeing as I had no way to know its name. "Have you ever thought about how gear trains worked?"

"Cut!" Eliza shook her head in disappointment. She put down her megaphone and stood up from her divine throne, which honestly just looked like a simple chair with her name on it. "Now, look, I may be new to this Goddess of Theater thing, but why would you ask a cat a question like that? Of course it's never thought about gear trains. It's just a cat. Oh, sure, it's the new Felus, but you don't know that."

But I did. How was I supposed to forget such a key fact?

Eliza rolled her sixteen eyes in frustration as she saw my puzzled expression.

"You're never going to get this part right if you can't get into character. Now, remember, Commun doesn't know the cat's a god. He thinks it's just an ordinary cat. So, what does he, or rather you, say to it, given that fact?"

Meow.

"Meow," I offered uncertainly.

"Meow," the cat answered back at me. It rubbed against my legs. Eliza seemed pleased with this, at least.

"Good, good. We can work from there. You see, who needs Lexos' dusty old scripts when you've got real talent like that?"

To be honest, I wasn't really sure what the point of this whole exercise was. I'd spent so much time playing roles for the gods that I always had to work to remember who I'd been in the first place.

Who was I, again? And just why had the gods put me in their inscrutable plays?

You're some lonely filthy commoner named Grub

So, you're not Commun Marx, right? Not at all. You're this angel, a new cat fresh from Limbo named Grub. Now it ain't all halos and wings — matter of fact, not at all. And one thing you gotta learn is that your job description is whatever they tells ya it is.

Now this Eyeliza broad, she threw a spade in your hand and at first you thought she wanted you to dig, but then she told you to "cut" over and over again and apparently she wants you to play pretend. You gotta fake like you're Commun Marx and you're not sure that's even a real dude. At first you thought you didn't know what you were doing, but now you're starting to think that Eliza doesn't even more than you do. So to speak, she just can't fill Lexos' throne.

And you know how much that matters? Not a gods damned lick, 'cause it's showtime, baby.

Bells a-ring. Ms. Get-An-Eyeful pulls the antenna out on her cell phone, adjusts her tie, and nods a couple times. She thinks you can't see her. (What'sa point of alla them eyes?)

"Alright Grub," she slams the antenna back down, "I think we've narrowed down on a charming rough-hewn quality and I don't wanna over-rehearse you. So we're putting rubber to ground and getting this show on the road! There's been a change of plans, though: Greg's a no-show, so we gotta scrap the lightning. Which means you're gonna have to get creative with killing Commun Marx and taking his place yourself. Okay? Okay. Great! Action!"

Before I could stammer out my waits and my whats, zip and zap, there I am, a celest standing in the middle of the Meadowlands looking every bit the part of some leathery old economist without so much as a knife or a rock to my name. Just great. Now what's the big idea, ya bozos?

> you're not going to do anything. you're getting as far away from this mess as you can

I couldn't take it any more. I was sick of this whole play, or whatever Eliza was doing. It didn't make any sense and nobody was even going to pretend to explain it to me.

I considered leaving the mortal plane entirely to escape, but now that the boundaries were being monitored again, that would draw too much attention. I didn't really want to deal with any gods at all right now.

So I just walked away. For several hours. It wasn't as if I was capable of getting exhausted, after all.

Eventually, I came across two near-identical castles. The only difference I could see was that one had a moat, while the other was sitting in the middle of an enormous pizza.

Which castle would I enter?

----

"Cut!" someone shouted, suddenly. She looked at me and pointed.

"That's some great costuming work there, Grub," she said. "But you look a little too much like the old Commun Marx. The whole point was to give the character a fresh new look for our new audience!"

For a few minutes, I just stared at her, shovel in hand. The silence was only broken when the cat meowed.

Of course, I realized she was a goddess. I knew divinity when I saw it; it wasn't like a god would just be an ordinary-looking cat, after all. But I didn't have the slightest idea what she wanted from me.

How was I to respond?

Obviously the Pizza castle.

"Well, can I get some access to wardrobe, then?"

Obviously the Pizza castle.

I stalked 'round the pizza castle for a hot shake and a minute, until I turned a corner and found myself nose-to-nose with this bald guy... you know the type: glasses, a mustache, and a cone-shaped hat decorated to look like a pizza slice.

"Hi," he introduced himself instead of apologizing or backing away any. "I'm Herman Cain, owner and proprietor of Godfather's pizza and 2012 GOP party primary candidate." He extended his hand to shake.

I took it. "Grub," I snorted. What else was I gonna say, right?

"Would you like to hear about my flat tax proposal?"

"Well, can I get some access to wardrobe, then?"

I thought fast. "Well then can I get some access to wardrobe, PLEASE?"

"Oh meOW!" teased Eliza. "Take 5, everyone!" She clapped. "The diva needs a wardrobe adjustment."

I retreated backstage, but I had no interest in wardrobe. Instead, I detoured to the catering table and then, out the back door when I hoped nobody was looking. Typical Marx, isn't that? Thrust into a new situation suddenly, runs away.

It cleared things up quite a quite a bit, though, when I exited into a grand hallway with 30-foot ceilings, dotted with potted plants, water coolers, filing cabinets, and artifacts from ancient legends (some taxidermied.) I had been teleported to the home of the gods!

My judgement was at hand. I had to hide, run, anything to save my skin before they figured out just who had bumbled into their inner sanctum... but where to?

Counter with a different kind of proposal--a BUSINESS proposal

Right to the throne room, ofc

Counter with a different kind of proposal--a BUSINESS proposal

I didn't want to hear about this guy's flat tax proposal. I didn't even know what he was talking about. What was a "2012" or "GOP"?

"I've got a better idea," I said instead. "How about you come and work for me? I'm sure a pizza party guy like you can really turn my business around."

Mr. Cain suddenly seemed worried.

"I'm sorry, I can't," he said. "I'm not allowed to leave this castle until the Herman Cain in Castle Vendet leaves. Oh, shoot! I'm desynced now! Video's going to be real upset if I don't get back in character..." He paused for a moment. "Nine. Nine. Nine. Simple and brilliant, wouldn't you say?"

I was starting to suspect that something odd was going on here. But what was I going to do about it?

Right to the throne room, ofc

De.

De had taken charge of the gods, from what I had been able to gather. And she was on Mary's side. If I were to see her, surely she could put me under her protection. I'd likely have to go on some form of quest or something in return, but it would be hard for it to be worse than what I'd already been through.

So I ran for the throne room, ready to beg De for mercy. But when I arrived, it wasn't De sitting upon the throne of the gods.

Who was it?

A SMALL, ADORABLE DOG.

MILTON

A SMALL, ADORABLE DOG.

MILTON

"Hi!" said Milton, the dog. "I'm Milton, the dog!" He wagged his tail excitedly.

"...Where's De?" I asked.

"In her office, hard at work!" said Milton, the dog. He nodded over to his left to a very plain door marked simply, "Office."

"Well —"

"She's much too busy for throne-sitting, I'm afraid! Yes sir, if you're here to make an appointment, it might be a while!" He hopped off the throne, disappeared underneath it, then pushed out a large book before him. "Oh, I'm her secretary angel! You know, dog is just God spelled backwards!" He grabbed a corner with his mouth and opened it up.

"I'll make an appointment, fine," said I.

"Excellent! Now where did I bury that pen..." Milton began sniffing around on the ground.

"Do you have somewhere I can sit, somewhere safe?"

"Sure! Sure sure sure sure sure sure," said the dog Milton. "Just take the throne, it's cool."

I contemplated the awkwardness of sitting on the divine throne, and the inevitability of getting dog fur on my gross old butt. "No thanks, I'll just go sit against that wall."

"Okay!" Milton the dog said. "Oh gee, I forgot to ask: Who do I have the pleasure of writing this appointment is for?"

"...What?"

"Who's the appointment for?"

"Oh," I said. "Well, I guess... me?"

"And who are you, silly!?"

"Oh, uh, Commun Marx," I said. Milton sniffed around a bit more and then started frantically scratching at the tile floor. "Actually, make that party of two. Commun Marx, and, hopefully... Mary Lee Vindictus."

Milton looked up. "She's coming?"

"Hopefully," I said. "If her plan works out."

"Oh boy!" said the dog. He yampered over to the throne and shoved the book back under. "I can't wait! De's told me so much about her."

"Oh? Like?"

"She's a queen!" Milton yapped.

"And?"

Milton shrugged. Typical De. I sat down against the wall.



"Hm," said Milton the dog.

"What?"

"You hear that?"

"No, what is it?"

"A pregnant silence."





"I guess it is, isn't it?"





"Yes."





We both turned to the gigantic double-doors of the court as they slowly, but loudly, creaked open. This was it. We could all tell we were witnessing the dilation of the cervix of the pregnant silence. Though the court doors came none other than the Queen herself!

"She's here!" yipped Milton. He began to hop around, panting. "She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here!" He licked her legs and ran around in circles. "She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here! She's here!" He ran up to the office door and began to scratch at it.

"However did you beat me here, Commun?" Mary asked.

I shrugged.

"Did you already make an appointment?"

I lolled my hand back and forth: "sorta."

"Right this way, Miss Vindictus!" said Milton. "C'mon, hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry hurry!"

The door to De's office suddenly opened. Guess that was our invitation. "After you, miſter Marx," shrugged Mary.

The room was lit only by one bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling. There were sheets of paper all over the floors and De's desk, and all four walls were practically wallpapered with scribbled-on notecards and different-colored yarn affixed by thumbtacks connecting them. She was going around, frantically but gracefully attaching and detaching the tacks in her web. It reminded me of my time in the Grand Library.

"Go," said De.

"You've got a major problem with a rogue celeſt. Nothing keepſ killing people," said Mary.

"Like her friend Adeline," I chimed in, mostly to protect Mary from her own big mouth.

"Right, and me, but I got better, and ſir Noſe but who careſ about that jerk?" Mary said.

"Your guard?" said De.

"...Oh," said Mary.

"And I'd like to," I started in, clenching and unclenching my hands. "I'd like to apologize and be forgiven for the whole attack thing, I don't know how to, uh, express that, I wasn't even really involved, I'm worried for the troops —"

"Ok," said De. Insantly, I remembered the numbers 1,031 and above. She pointed at Mary. "Why?"

"Why?" said Mary. "It sayſ it wantſ to become God of Death."

"Good," said De. She whipped around to her desk and pulled a blank index card out of her rolodex. She scrawled "NOTHING" on it and pinned it to a wall. She grabbed one end of a string off of a card marked "FABLIO" and dragged it to "NOTHING," and nodded to herself.

"Good? What?!" said Mary.

"Really!?" said I.

De just kept moving tacks and string around and nodding, ever-more fervently. We should have known she wouldn't repeat herself. A smile broke out on her faceless, grey head.

"Tell it: Free Nose and Ade for godhood," said De. She took out a piece of paper and started scrawling on it.

"But it'ſ evil!" Mary cried.

De said nothing, and began tearing superfluous notecards off the wall.

"But you get complete restitution," I said to Mary. "It won't do any more bad when it gets what it wants."

"It'll have power over the afterlife!" said Mary. De kept throwing notecards and yarn on the floor. There would be no debate.

"C'mon," I said. I dragged Mary out of the office by the arm. We disappeared from the home of the Gods, and reappeared back in the mortal world. But where in the world were we?

---

Meanwhile, at Castle Vendet, Herman Cain was standing at a corner in a hallway, talking to nobody.

"Hi," he introduced himself to the empty space before him. "I'm Herman Cain, owner and proprietor of Godfather's pizza and 2012 GOP party primary candidate." He extended his hand to shake, then gave a worried expression. "I'm sorry, I can't," he said. "I'm not allowed to leave this castle until the Herman Cain in Castle Vendet leaves. Oh, shoot! I'm desynced now! Video's going to be real upset if I don't get back in character..." He paused for a moment. "Nine. Nine. Nine. Simple and brilliant, wouldn't you say?"

I must take a detour now to clarify: he wasn't a part of a sci-fi hivemind or under the effects of a magic spell cast by Video or anything like that, he was just crazy and stupid and talking to himself like a typical politician.

That's when the Remdat, Duke of Remdat, across both castles, said to both Cains: "What are you doing?"

"Practicing my speech," said Herman Cain. "Has to seem off-the-cuff and spontaneous, so I figure it oughta be incoherent."

"...Your speech for what?" said both Remdats.

"Milton's coronation! It's a sure thing, don't tell nobody," said both Herman Cains.

"Mhm," said Remdat, who suddenly lunged at defenseless Herman Cain with a pizza cutter! Heroic Herman Cain wrassled the knife out of Remdat's hand and plunged it into his neck.

Meanwhile in the pizza castle, the simulated Remdat rolled out of the way of the lethal slice. "Please help me," he begged me, Grub, crying. "I don't want to die for impersonation."

"Hey, that's not fair!" said the fake Cain (and the real one.) "Now I'm off too!"

"Please!" begged Remdat more, clinging to my legs for dear life.

How could I spin this so it helped me out with my burgeoning small business?

We were still in an office. But a DETECTIVE's office.

----

Spin it literally. Like a centrifuge

We were still in an office. But a DETECTIVE's office.

For a moment, I thought we hadn't gone anywhere at all, the surroundings were so similar. But then the differences became clearer.
Especially the backwards letters I could see through the door. They said:

ЯƎᗡЯO ИƎЯUA⅃
ƎVITƆƎTƎᗡ ⅃AYOЯ

And that's when I realized where we were. This was the office for the detective the Queen hired in order to ensure that any murders in the castle were quickly solved, in order to minimize political assassinations that she didn't approve of. We were back in Castle Vendet!

And Ms. Order was not happy to see us when she entered.

"What are you two doing in my office?" she shouted. "My services are for royals only. Unless you're Malcolm's daughter or his secret lover or something, you've got no business here. Besides, even if you were royals somehow, I'm busy. The Duke of Remdat's scheduled to be murdered about now and I've got to look at Video's notes on how the hell I'm supposed to solve it."

Well. What could we say to that?

---

Spin it literally. Like a centrifuge

I started spinning around, the Duke of Remdat still clinging to my leg. The intense forces soon caused him to fall unconscious and vomit, and so I stopped.

"I'm not killing him again," Herman Cain said, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was too busy trying to figure out how this worked into my new business plan.

But before I could say anything more, a detective with a pizza hat on walked onto the scene, yelling at some unseen people to leave her alone while she solved the murder.

"Um, he's not dead," I said. "Just unconscious."

"Keep your trap shut!" the detective shouted back at me. "I don't need another uninvited guest getting in my way! You can't even be a suspect, you're only in one castle."

I was about to ask a question, but at that point she yelled at some unseen person that they were asking for trouble if they interrupted her again.

Then she reeled back as though she were being punched in the face.

I felt awkward as I watched her losing struggle with empty space. Was there anything I could do?