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so it would remain until enough humans dreamed the dream, at which point they would then…through bursts of industrialization, or visionary philosophers and leaders, or even wars…bring the unconscious desires to reality. They would think of it as ideas waiting to happen, and in a sense, they were right. They just didn’t understand that there was an actual, metaphysical structure behind it. The concepts would develop a nebulous form, and then the functions would follow to actualize it.
    “In any event, Overseer,” Nicrominus had continued, “here is the situation, and the problem. The human race has largely been purged from the Damned World. And if my theory is correct, those humans who do remain are remarkably dangerous. For energy cannot truly be destroyed; it simply changes form or concentrates elsewhere. Which means the pure power of dream and imagination, rather than being diffused over millions of humans, is now concentrated within the minds of a mere handful. Of course, they don’t know it. They know of a time when humans dominated, but accept the status of their environment for what it is. But if they dream of greater things…if they take to imagining things not as they are, but as they could be…it could be disastrous for us. Through means we cannot begin to guess, they could set events into motion—affect probabilities, develop devices—that could spell the end of the Twelve Races.
    “But we cannot simply destroy the humans in self-defense, because therein lies our quandary. You see, naturally this sphere, this plane of existence, far pre-existed human beings. It was, however, chaotic. Unformed and void, almost unrecognizable. Humans were created to help bring it into sharper focus. They began as primitive specimens, but evolved over time. As they evolved, this sphere likewise evolved from the chaos that reigned to the relative order that now holds sway. The calamitous depopulation of humans has thrown this plane of existence out of whack. We are seeing, in the diminishment of the power of hotstars, merely the first step. If my theory is correct, if the few humans who are left should die off completely, the hotstars will not be the first things to give out. This entire plane of existence could come completely unraveled. It could well descend into the chaos that existed before humans were developed to hammer it into shape through their imagination, their will, their hopes and dreams and aspirations, and their odd obsession with ascribing names to everything. They even gave a name to the phenomenon: Entropy.
    “Nor will it necessarily end here. The nearness of the Elserealms, its dependence upon hotstars, and the effect the current energy depletion is having, indicates that the deleterious effects may ripple through to the Elserealms as well. Both the Banished, and those who banished us, may well share the same fate.
    “The depopulation of humanity may well be the single greatest calamity the Twelve Races has ever faced. There is only one solution that I can see: We must locate what humans there are and find a way to repopulate the species, all the while holding their dreams in check or turning them to serve us, lest they wind up—through sheer force of will—creating a series of circumstances that could lead to our utter destruction.”
    For a long moment, the Overseer said nothing.
    Then had come an explosive sound, like a crack of thunder. Lights had flickered on and off, and the very air seemed to crackle as if a storm were building up within the structure itself. Nicrominus had fallen to his knees, whimpering like a hatchling in the face of the unfettered wrath of the single most powerful being in the Damned World.
    And for the first time since Nicrominus had shown up, the Overseer had spoken.
    “ You, ” thundered the Overseer, “ Have got. To be shitting me .”
     
    ii.
    Nicrominus, during his relatively leisurely voyage over courtesy of the Zeffer’s vast, dangling tentacles, had had a