@admin, disregard my earlier comment! But thank you again for being, just, insanely understanding. i made the oracle quit yellin'! Apophis's speech will still be in all caps, probably? He's constantly screaming at the top of hHs lungs, but he shows up less often anyway, or He'd lose His menace.

@celine, thanks! the general idea for apophis as a character is that he's the opposite of your general "god of evil," or "evil overlord" archetype. often those types of characters are cold, calculating, inhuman characters. and that's cool! but evil feels very personal and human to me. my idea of a "pure evil" character isn't a souless supercomputer-type thing bent on hurting people for no reason, but a childish, incredibly powerful but impossibly immature freak, spewing venom and vitriol not to serve the forces of evil, but for it's own disgusting, bitter pleasure and gain! 

tl;dr Apophis is just bill cipher with all the comedic traits stripped away, and it's because i'm a contrarian loser

and now, the part

~~ 

ASK HOW TO DEFEAT APOPHIS==>

Good question. Great question. Granted, you still have no idea what Apophis is in a literal sense, because this Oracle guy just answered using an exended metaphor, but still. Knowing how to defeat Him would be cool. First though, you do have another question to ask, because you're getting a slight headache.

YOU: Okay, uh, Oracle?

Oracle: MMMMMYES?!

YOU: Could you, maybe, tone it down a little? Like, are you capable of doing that? Is it a concious choice you make, to shout endlessly?

The Oracle considers, and then speaks. Its voice lowers considerably. It's still speaking loudly, however.

Oracle: Of course, my boy. I was unaware you humans were of such faint constitutions.

YOU: Was that a dig at me?

Oracle: Child, I know not of the human "digs" of which you speak. Know only this: for the past few years, my only interaction with humans has been with the grandfather of the scribe and the heir.

Wren: And my heart goes out to you.

Oracle: Yes, LAND SAKES ALIVE, that man is thorughly UNPLEASANT company. But he is also hard of hearing! I found it necessary to BELLOW and CAJOLE him in order to get through to him!!! Heavens above, why does the geriatric geezer not buy himself some human ear canal plugs?!!

You shrug. Your complicated relationship with your father aside, you've always felt sorry for Wren's whole situation. Being cared for by a man like her grandfather... Well, you suppose "care" is an improper term. It makes your own living situation seem downright enviable. The only positive you can think of is that he doesn't seem to care about Wren being trans... but then, that's a problem, as well. He doesn't seem to care. 

The Oracle continues to look at you, and you realize it looks expectant. Oh yes, your other question.  It's difficult having conversations, everyone you know is prone to tangents, yourself included. It appears the same is true for insectoid soothsayers. That's oddly comforting.

YOU: Okay, um. How, exactly do we stop the literal God of Evil? Like, what kind of "god" are we talking? Lowercase-g? Uppercase-G?

Oracle: Oh, uppercase. Surely. To answer your question, the first step was... Well, it was finding YOU. All six heroes must unite! I wanted to meet you quite a bit, KNIGHT! But there are two others you must find! The Apostate, and The Hermit! This is how it has ALWAYS been!!! The Six rise against Apophis! THE SEER! THE HEIR! THE SCRIBE! THE KNIGHT! THE HERMIT! THE APOSTATE! And, alas... Invariably, they either fall in brave battle, or into corruption and disgrace. 

YOU: Corruption? Is this that thing you said about uh... "A double-sided coin," or... Whatever? 

Oracle: INDEED! Smart lad! Your DISTINGUISHED PEERS will likely be able to be found at your HUMAN LEARNING SCHOOL CAMPUS! I know their names, FOR I KNOW ALL!

It lets loose an exuberant laugh, which quickly degenerates into loud coughing. You turn to Wren and Diana, wondering what the appropriate response is. They shrug, obviously desensitized to the Oracle's... Eccentricity, you suppose, would be a polite way of phrasing it. 

Oracle: ALAS! Apophis, incoherently VILE though he may be, has many worshippers hidden among mankind, and hosts of wicked beings from Zones outside your own pay degenrate fealty to His black altars! Few truly wish for His success in destroying all existence, but there are countless deluded and selfish enough to use His dark power, believing themselves wise enough to fool Him. Even I, WISE PROGNOSTICATOR THAT I AM cannot alway discern who has fallen to His wickedness and deceit! DO NOT LET THIS TROUBLE YOU TOO GREATLY! Trust one another! But beware nonetheless! The other heroes you seek are known as Tracy Peixoto, and Ryan Haskins!

You recognize both names. Tracy Peixoto is an... Oddball. But they're okay, you guess. They go to your school. Ryan, however, was born with a deep desire to bully you and your friends, and he has more than succeeded in fulfilling that role. He's a creep.

Oracle: I'LL NOT BE TAKING ANY MORE QUESTIONS!

With that proclamation, it leaps atop the pool table, grabbing a pool cue, and pole vaulting out through a closed window, shattering the glass pane and snapping the stick. You rush to the (now broken) window, and gaze out in blank fascination as it runs at incredible speed into the densely vegetated forest, and out of view.

Wren: why did he do that

Diana What a cool guy!!! :D

What do you do next? 

PLAY POOL==>

You think for a bit on the information just delivered to you in an artless bout of exposition. You realize what you really need is some sort of distraction. You look around the room, wondering wht to do. Then you realize it's a pool room.

You feel really dumb. 

YOU: Okay... It doesn't sound like there's really anything we can do to "save the world," or whatever right now. So, you guys wanna... I dunno, play pool? To keep our minds off our great responsibilty or.. whatever.

Wren: I don't know how to play pool. I think my Grandpa had this tablee put in more as furniture than anything.

Diana: The Oracle shattered the pool cue when it pole vaulted out the window! How can we play with one stick?

YOU: Well... 

Diana: Also, I do not know how to play pool.

YOU: Well, yeah man, me neither. I figured we'd just... I dunno, make something up. Something fun. I dunno, I don't think you can play pool with three people anyway? So...

Wren nods.

Wren: Okay, yeah. That sounds fun. 

You set the pool cue along the center of the table, on the long side. Diana sees what you are doing, taking the parts of the cue, and lining them up as well, setting a barricade across the middle of the pool table. The three of you all grab the balls and place them on a recliner. You take the eight ball, and place it in the center of the barricade. Each of you grab 5 balls.  

You walk over to the minifridge in the corner of the room. You open it, and see it's filled with generic diet cola. You pop open a can, and take a sip. It isn't bad, but it's not good. Diana whispers something to Wren. She nods enthusiatically. This can't be good. Diana leaps over to the minifridge, grabbing a pair of scissors from the counter beside the fridge, and grabs a can. She punctures a hole in the can, and with lightning speed, begins chugging the diet soda through the hole, as Wren giggles and eggs her on. You snort. Weirdos. 

Wren strolls over, and pulls out a can, and drinks it how normal humans do. She flips on the radio. It's a commercial.

Advertisers voice: Would you fight, for brand loyalty? Would you win a war, for brand loyalty? Would you raze a field, burn it, salt it, guard over it to ensure it never gave life again? Would you view the world as you were asked? Would you uncover the secrets hidden before thine very eyes? Would you read newspaper articles, counting each misplacement of letters, each seemingly innocous phrase that is just... slightly off? Would you kill? Would you steal? Risk imprisonment, even death? Pepsi-Co. What would you do for brand loyalty? 

You shake your head. They run that one too often.  

YOU: Ready to play? 

Wren: Sure! 

You all walk back to the table, grabbing the balls and standing about eight feet away from the table. Each of you take one ball and throw it over the barricade, and try to throw it in the holes in the side. You each fail, one at a time, repeatedly, for about five minutes. You run back and grab all the balls out of the table a few times. Eventually Wren makes one in. 

Wren: This is basically just cornhole, but really stupid, right?

YOU: Basically, yeah.

On the radio, Diana's dad is talking. His show, you guess. He's talking about some political protest outside the Town Hall. Held by the Order of the Seventh Tongue, a party that is weirdly popular around here, despite being bizarre. 

Diana: More demonstrations?

Wren: It is around time to vote for Mayor. 

Diana: Sam, is your dad going to run for reelection again?

YOU: Yeah, probably? I mean, I doubt anyone else will run?

Diana: Well, The Seventh Tongue will run someone.

YOU: Yeah, but they're actual raving lunatics. Like, I think they're a cult?

Diana: Definitely!!!  I sometime wonder if they are just, like, intentionally there to distract people? I mean, they wear cloaks and hoods, and conduct animal sacrifice, right? 

Wren: See, the thing about Deen being a "seer" or whatever, is you really have to wonder, is this thing she told me true, and she knows with her magic powers? Or is this just another product of the free word association that is the pthrought process of her beautiful brain?

Diana: Thank you for calling my brain beautiful, but I will remember the veiled insults you have sent in my direction, and some day you will have to answer for them (<3)

Wren: Understood (<3)

You return to the "game." Wren gets a few more in. Diana accuses her of cheating due to "being tall." Wren replies something along the lines of "Tough luck, Buddy." You glance up at a clock. It's about 11:30, so you've killed a little more time than you'd meant to. The others have lost all interest in the game, and Diana has made a sizable hole in the drywall with a ball. You smile to yourself. You've missed this.

What do you do now?

~~

bits and pieces of worldbuilding eemerged in this part, as scum unto an old pool. i like to worldbuild in broad strokes!

i think i've said this before, someone commented on The Terminal being similar to night vale, folks, i started that show very recently. the similarities are just bizarre coincidences, including terrance being a radio host, but now it's impossible for me to think of his radio show as being anything but a carbon copy of cecil's show in the podcast, so i decided to just bring it full circle.

we get some inklings of the weirdness that is politics in the lord entropy cinematic universe. the idea of the Order of the Seventh Tongue came from a friend. there's no political satire or anything present at all, it's just me being silly. i thought a cartoonishly evil sounding party would be funny. was i right? you, the reader, can decide! 

sorry for being late, i've been swamped with papers and whatnot. anyway!

~~

ASK ABOUT RECENT PROGRESS==>

YOU: Okay... I'm assuming you had planned that whole talk with the Oracle, to, to haze me, or whatever? 

Wren: I wouldn't put it that way? But yeah, that was a conversation we had... I guess, anticipated. For a while. 

Diana: Yes, it was.. planned is the wrong word. It was vaguely anticipated! We did not plan on telling you today, but you had questions.

YOU: I guess it was right on time, it looks like the oracle had... Places to be.

You briefly turn your gaze on the broken window.

Wren: Yeah, I'm not sure it did? I think it may have done that for fun. 

Diana: It looked fun!

YOU: Okay. So, have you... Have you taken any... steps? At the whole "killing evil gods" thing?

Diana: Well... No. Not exactly.

Wren: We really just got back from a pretty big adventure. Although "adventure" might be the wrong word. Nightmare vision quest.  It's kind of tiring to do something like that. We're just... I dunno.

Diana: We are relaxing while we can. We are waiting for school to start. Then we can, I do not know, begin recruiting or whatever. I mean, why should we start now? We would have to talk to Ryan...

Wren: Yeah, he's a huge creep. Tracy is okay though.

Diana: Yeah, I called them to tell them that they are destined to join us and become a hero.

YOU: Is that a joke, or?

Diana: No!

Wren: Yeah, we face-timed. They're cool with it? 

YOU: Okay... Wait, you have their phone number? How?

Diana: Ehhh... Don't remember?

You and the others leave the pool room in a state of disarray, walking out into the hallway. You turn down the hallway, heading down back into the living area. You're not sure what exactly to do next?

I'll go with looking for the parents because i'm not entirely certain what the first one meant?

~~

LOOK FOR PARENTS==>

YOU: Hey, Diana, are your parents around?

Wren:... dude, did you not hear terrance on the radio show? I think that's recorded live.

Diana: They have jobs! Although Alice is still around here somewhere, I believe. 

YOU: Okay... Look, I'm kind of bored.

Diana: What?

YOU: Okay, let's turn this into a hypothetical situation, I guess. 

Wren: What if, instead, you were just open about the way you were feelin-

YOU: Okay, so lets say you wake up one morning, and your lie is completely normal, right? And then you go to visit your friends, and they suddenly show you, like, a giant monster. And the monster systematically shatters your view of the world. And it turns out the world is way, way weirder than you can imagine. But then, it turns out your friends, who are, like, magic heroes, don't even want to do anything! Like, none of them even want to save the world! They just want to, I don't know? Sit around. Watch ENA. Play pool. Etcetera.

Diana: Sam, that was not, in any way, a hypothetical.

YOU:Dude, that was entirely not the point.

Wren: Look, man. It might just have to do with the way you were introduced to the "supernatural," or whatever. I mean, for Deen, she was terrorized by an alien who meddled with her memories for years probably. For me and Alex, it was being hunted by a demogorgon knockoff while lost in the woods. 

YOU: Well, yeah, but...

Wren: Look, I totally get why you're so excited to get some heroing done or whatever. The Oracle is a pretty cool guy, and it really can't help but make everything seem really cool and exciting. But man, Deen has slept about five hours in the past week, trying to avoid her brain alien, because of something he did to her in a dream, something she won't even talk about with me! And if that freak wanted to, he could knock her out and force her to sleep anyway! Alex doesn't go anywhere without a can of mace anymore, and when I have nightmares, I get to live with the fact that nothing in them is even mildly implausible anymore! 

Wren takes a couple deep breaths, sitting down at a stool by the kitchen counter. You look around, you guess that your group had entered the kitchen at som point. You hadn't really been paying attention. 

Wren: It's totally understandable that you want to do hero stuff. But this can be genuinely scarring. And it's really exhausting. Maybe it's just how Deen and I are, as people? Maybe we're just lazy. But really, we just want to have time to relax. While we're not out being shoved around like pawns on a chessboard. 

You guess that makes sense. You realize that maybe you had higher expectations then you should've. And actually, now that you think of it, you're pretty tired yourself. Actually, really tired.

Why are you so tired? You can actually, physically feel yourself falling asleep. You're tipping from side to side like a cartoon character, and you have no idea why. Oh no, wait, you're standing next to the-

You fall, slamming your head into the kitchen counter, knocking yourself out immediately. Nice job!

You open your eyes, and you find yourself bound to a table in a small white room. There's a machine to the side, making some sort of muffled gurgling noise. There's a poster with a cat hanging off a tree branch that reads: "FALL, IDIOT, FALL." 

To your side, a stainless steel door slides open. A little guy wearing an astronaut helmet steps out.

YOU: ...what?

???: Morning, sunshine!

What? 

@celine: yeah, it's hastur. he just has a few different posters. let the horrible organ stealer live his life. also, i understand your apathy. i think you're expressing fustration at the occasionally bad pacing in the story? the idea with the low points of the story is to allow the characters room to do normal things and be normal teenagers. but it doesn't always work great. i understand your frustration, i myself have contempt for most of the things i've written, about the moment i've finished writing them. you have to understand that mostly i write short fiction. i don't think i've written this many words in a series before. i love these characters, but i do need to take and respond to criticism. that being said, it would be helpful to me if that criticism was expressed in ways that i can more easily understand, or in more specificways, so i can better build off of it. i'm still learning how to write. i don't think you ever really stop learning? but i just want everyone to have a good time.

thats a lot of words. 

~~

RECOGNIZE HASTUR==>

You blink at the little guy. He's definitely wearing a space helmet. The glass is reflective, and you can see your own face staring back at you, stretched out by the strange shape of the glass. He's also wearing a yellow cloak, or robe of some sort. You realize this is the alien from Diana's dreams. Somehow, you also know his name. Hastur? You don't think anyone told you that. Weird. 

YOU: You... You're Hastur, right?

Hastur: Ooh! Ding ding ding! Smart cookie! Sam Aberdeen, I salute you!

YOU: How do you know my name?

Hastur: I ought to ask the same, kidderoony! 

He cocks his head to the side.

Hastur: Kidding! I know how you know my name! All the little people who make your decisions for you know it! 

YOU: What?

Hastur: Yep! Hey folks. I'm aware that you can hear me. And I always was!

YOU: Okay, look. You seem... insane. But, again, how do you know me? 

Hastur: Okay dude, geez. Take a... A chill pill. 

He pulls up a high stool beside you and sitys down in it.

Hastur: A couple of your little friends went on a little trip recently, and stopped some heir from killing The Old Voice! It's all anybody's been talking about. I was visiting a lower layer to sell some of your pal's organs when I heard about it. Prophesied heroes. It only took me a while to find you!

BE SNARKY==>

YOU: So, I suppose you're going to take my organs now?

Hastur: That's the plan!

YOU: How about an autograph first?

Hastur: Hm. Funny boy, huh? I'm a pretty jovial guy, yeah?

YOU: jovial?

Hastur. I'm hip. Cool. Friendly?

YOU: Um?

Hastur: Look. Your friend Diana sassed off to me. And so I did something funny to her. Do you want to know what I did?

YOU: Sure. I'd love to know exactly how hard I'm going to have to beat you up, you freak.

Hastur: I added her to my cringe compilation.

YOU:... Sorry? What?

Hastur: I forced her to relive the worst memories of her life. Over. And over. For about fifteen minutes, I think. But for her it felt like hours. And I could do the exact same thing to you. Maybe I will.

YOU: Okay, but why? Why are you doing any of this? 

The restraints on your arms and legs loosen.

Hastur: Come on, man! I'll show you!

Follow the insane space alien? 

@celine: okay, good to know you were just in an incoherent rage for unrelated reasons, and YES, i use repetitive language way too often thank you for pointing it out, because i don't even notice it. and yeah, hastur was just refrencing the adventure with ten and lillie in garbage narnia. sounds like the litttle creep found out about it, and figured out that diana was one of the people involved!

~~

FOLLOW? => YES==>

You follow Hastur out the sliding metal door. He's walking at a steady, very quick, speed. The hallways out here seem to be oversized metal tubes, with rounded walls. Occasionally, there's a window. a bright light is shining outside of it, far too bright for you to see anything.  

You feel like a rat in a maze. Hastur is clicking his heels against the smooth metallic floor, moving at astounding speed. 

YOU: Can you slow down, man?

Hastur: Certainly! We wouldn't want wittle baby Aberdween getting sweepy, now would we?

YOU: Jeez, you're a jerk.

Hastur: It's been noted! But I kid, kid. I kid.

YOU: Kid kid?

Hastur: I mean. I'm joking, child. Pulling your leg. Giving you a light ribbing.

Hastur shrugs, and noticeably slows his pace. You can now walk beside him instead of trailing behind him.

YOU: So, my friends went on an adventure, huh? 

Hastur: Yep! You didn't get any specifics?

YOU: Not exactly.

Hastur: Far as I can tell, it wasn't really much of anything. There was this kid named Lillie, who I guess was some sort of Heir, destined to kill The Old Voice and take It's place.

YOU: Who's the Old Voice?

Hastur: Holy toledo, they kept you out of the loop, huh? It's just some ancient deity that used to rule over one of the smaller Layers. It was betrayed by some nobody skeezeball named Nyarl, and the Layer was split between the two. They were fighting all the time, but eventually a status quo was set in place, and everything was just dandy!

YOU: Ok...

Hastur: Eventually, a prophecy was revealed! A human girl had come of age. Her name was Lillie, and she was destined to someday kill the Old Voice and take It's throne! Which was great news for Nyarl, who promptly kidnapped her and started trying to influence her to do what he wanted. The Old Voice also found out that this heir was out their somewhere, and started looking Itself. 

YOU: This story is getting a little bit too complicated.

Hastur: Well, don't get your britches in a twist kid! It's only gonna get complicateder! Because, see, Lillie had a lil someone waitin' for her at home! Some college student named Ten! 

YOU: Dude, it's like you can't go six seconds without introducing another character! This feels like lazy writing!

Hastur: I'm not "writing" anything! I'm recounting a story for you, you moron! Listen to it for more than four sentences without interruption! Jeez, man! Ugh! 

YOU: ...

Hastur: No, no, it's fine. Don't apologize or anything. I'm over it. Anyway! Ten, Lillie's lil' datepal, headed over here to Emerald Springs to look for their girlfriend! But yeah, they met your friends somehow, and your friends headed over to The Old Voice's Layer!

YOU: You keep saying "Layer?"

Hastur: Dude, I can't... I don't even know how to explain Layers. Use your... Your thinking cap. Think about it. Just... try to contextualize it. But... Okay. Your friends visited the... Layer... Gah, no I can't even talk anymore without wondering what you know. I... Okay, your friends ended up offering an ultimatium. Nyarl and the Old voice had to get along and rule their Layer together, or they'd have to fight! And it worked! The two''ve them are co-ruling the Layer! The only downside is that trade sanctions are crazy around there. I can't even sell Diana's organs around there without registering.

YOU: Oh nooooo....

Hastur Laugh it up, shmuck. You won't be laughing soon! Not when you see my pet project, and understand the gradiosity of my plans! We'll see who's laughing then!

Hastur stops, turning on his heel.

Hastur: Me. It'll be me.

YOU: ...

Hastur: I'll be laughing.

YOU: Yeah, no, got it.

Hastur nods, apparently gratified by the exchange. You make a sharp turn down another tunnel. Something about this turn feels final, and you're fairly certain you've reached your destination. With an elaborate motion, Hastur waves his arms at the steel sliding door in front of you.

It opens.

The two of you walk in. There are giant test tubes lining the walls to either side of you. The glass is fogged, and a strange blue light emanates from all the tubes, lighting the chamber. 

Hastur: So, Sam, pal. Wouldja like to see where all those organs from your chum Diana has been going?

YOU: Pkease don't say "chum" again. But, sure.

Hastur cackles, pushing a button on one of the tubes. The glas slides open, and a thick smoke flows everywhere. 

It clears. There's a figure standing, eyes closed, wearing a white robe. 

It's Diana. Or, perhaps more likely, a clone of her.

What?

What do you do? Or say?  

aaaa the part is almost done i'll finish it tomorrow so sorry

PANIC==>

You stare at the silent body of your friend. You turn slowly to the side, watching in blank terror as the glass of countless other tubes open, revealing other copies of Diana. You hear a scream, constant and loud. Idly, you wonder where the scream is coming from, and then you realize: It's you. You stop shrieking long enough to breathe, turning you head wildly to scope out any possible exits. The door you had entered the room through is gone. Not closed, gone. Vanished. 

With nowhere to run, not that it stops you from pacing in a circle quickly, you begin breathing heavily. Your sunglasses are fogged by the breath you release in ragged, sharp jolts, and the result is that you are even more disoriented than before. You hear Hastur's voice drifting from nowhere. It feels like it's coming from a distance, but you know it isn't.

Hastur: Oh, for Throne's sake. You've snapped, haven't you? You humans are hilarious! I'll never understand why you always end up being chosen as heroes! Your brains break so easily!

He sounds amused, and perhaps a little disappointed. He strolls casually over to you, speaking again. You turn your gaze toward him, cold sweat trickling down your face.

Hastur: Really.  I mean, this breaks you? A few odd replicants? Buddy. This is but one iota of the wonders under your pathetic human sun. This is just part of my plan. My master plan. But you don't care about that, do you? My plots don't matter to you. Has it even occurred to you that there might actually be a great reason behind the innumerable clones of Diana? 

You slowly turn on your heel.

YOU: W-why?

Hastur: I'm glad you asked!

He claps his hands twice, and a spotlight appears on him. You stare, bewildered. 

Hastur: I am but a humble organ seller. Now, culturally, you have to understand that "organ seller" is not as lowly a position as it must sound. I am well respected. My organs are reliable and useful, and I've been selling them for a long time. Granted I do tell my clients that the organs are from real humans and not harvested dream bodies, but nobody's perfect! 

He stops, waving his hand around in vague frustration.

Hastur: The point is! I'm a bad person. Agreed? But even I, stealer of organs, brain tormentor of children, all around amoral freaksauce dawg, believe that Apophis needs to be stopped. 

YOU:... wha-freaksauce dawg?

Hastur: Humans are weak. Pathetic, doddering insects. Your bodies tear like tissue paper! Your brains break like a horse's leg when a strong wind blows! But for some deranged reason, Throne decided humans are going to be the big honchos, the prophesied! Which was a bad decision, arguably?  You guys are so little! So I had an... Idea. I had all these excess organs from our mutual firend Miss Zhu. And, I was aware from my various connections and inherent skill in gathering information, that she was one of the Six who are meant to kill Apophis! And I figured, well, she's probably going to die in battle.

YOU: N...No, she....

Hastur: Oh, no! Nothing personal! It's just how humans work! Like, if I slammed your head into the wall, you might black out, right? Watch, uh... Watch this. 

Hastur takes his helmet off. His face is... something. You can't really look at it without feeling a little... scared. You can't remember his face when you're not looking at it. But then you look at it, and.... It's terrible. 

Hastur strolls over to a wall. He slams his head into the wall, making a loud crashing sound. He pulls his head back, with no reaction. He casually puts his helmet back on, and you find that you can no longer remember what his face had looked like, even slightly.

Hastur: See? It takes quite a bit of force to hurt something like me! The point is, it's easy to hurt a human, and I knew that I had a bunch of excess organs from one of the Six Heroes! I figured I could do something with that, clone a few backups of Miss Zhu, to take her place in the case of a terrible accident.

YOU: Okay, but this isn't... That's not a "few clones." This is, like... An army!

Hastur: Okay, yes. I took a couple replicant-making courses online, and it's so easy. And so cheap! And so I did... Kind of get carried away? But it's... We're making progress.

Hastur puts his weird hand on your shoulder.

Hastur: There is one last thing I would like to show you. But... I'm worried your tiny human brain will break. Do you think you can handle it?

Good question. You're not sure.

What do you do?