Once upon a time, a cloud of energy singularities passed through the Earth, and each one was absorbed by a life form. Every touch-point was changed, endowed with power. Rarefied beasts became the ultimate predators, or the unbreakable survivors. Touched humans became great heroes, or terrifying villains.
A thousand years ago, the first Star-Pharaoh conquered the world. Desiring greater conquest, he called forth his sages. After years of trial and mage-craft, they built him an astral vessel, capable of sailing between the dimensions to reach other worlds. Today, the fleets of Astralis land upon thousands of worlds, serving the whims of a modern figurehead pharaoh, the ambitions of the imperial senate, the conquests of the astral navy, or the greed of the Lightermen mercantile guild.
Throughout history, some people have disappeared without a trace. These are the stories of where they went, and what they created. We do not know this place, yet we frequently touch it with our dreams. It is there that the truly missing go. Somehow they become so attuned to the essence of the unconscious that their bodies slip into that world. Yet, they still dream, and when they rouse, they live amongst the architectures of our imagination and theirs. They wake to a world of fantasies and nightmares, some of their own doing.
This morning, when you woke up, you and some other folks were whatever the fuck you thought you wanted to be. The world is in chaos today. How will this work out? What stories will come of it? How many terrible things will happen because you and some other folks had an idea but hadn’t thought it through?
Somewhere in the universe, there is a house where a boy hid his wishing machine. The house went up for sale, numerous workers fixed it up, a handful of realtors tried to sell it, and dozens of families visited it to see if it was right for them. Each of them projected their wishes for a future upon the house. Now the house is a nightmare of conflicting realities.