I Am Chaos

I am chaos.

I am eternal.

I am older than your mortal mind can possibly comprehend.  I was here aeons before the pathetic lump of rock you call your planet formed and I will be here aeons after it is finally ground back into dust.  I have seen more stars, trod on more worlds and subjugated more races than you can barely imagine.  Even the distant realms of the Dreamlands fell under my sway.  Like the rest of my kin, I wield ultimate power.  Reality is my plaything.  All of creation is mine by right.  Mine to shape and to mold at my whim.  The day is coming when we will burst through the barriers of the cosmos and lay waste to your world and wipe the pestilence known as Humanity from the universe.

And yet, something about your pathetic ball of rock confounds us.  Through the caprices of fate and destiny it is your world, your Earth, that is the keystone that blocks us.  Not even Yog-Sothoth, he who is the Lurker at the Threshold, the Key and the Gate, the One who dwells between dimensions, can break through into your world.  Some of my lesser kin find this frustrating, and are constantly seeking chinks in the armour, looking for the one single opening by which they can slip through.  The rest of them are patient and slumber, knowing that the time will come to awaken and take the glory that is rightfully theirs.

Me? I simply find the whole situation amusing.

Why it should be your world that should be our greatest stumbling block, where other greater worlds such as Yuggoth and Aldebaran fell under our dominion, is a cosmic mystery and one that has attracted my interest.  That your pathetic, feeble race should be able to resist us is  impossible, unheard of.  And yet here we are.  Even those of us who came to your world in its infancy – Cthulhu, Tsathoggua, Dagon and others – were unable to gain a lasting foothold.  Now Cthulhu sleeps under the waves in his city of R’lyeh.  Tsathoggua is buried in black N’Kai, in the depths of Yoth beneath the ancient and forgotten city of K’n-Yan, where he whiles away the millennia surrounded by his Formless Spawn and playing with blue spectral entities.  Dagon plays with his pet race of creatures you call the Deep Ones, sending them out amongst humans and drawing them back.  Like the rest of us, they wait for the day the stars are right.

For all your race’s ingenuity and power in resisting us, however, there are those individuals who seek to aid us, foolishly believing they can curry our favour in return for immortality or omnipotence.  As if they would somehow be spared when the time comes for us to return!  Some of them pray to Azathoth, the blind idiot god who sleeps on his black throne at the centre of the universe, whose awakening would see the whole of reality consumed in a roiling nuclear chaos.  Others follow the so-called “Great” Cthulhu, seeking to raise his sunken city of R’lyeh and hasten his ultimate awakening.  There were plots to summon Yog-Sothoth, by trying to create an offspring with a human woman who would tear open the gate, a venture as ill-advised as it was ill-fated.  There are still countless other little cults as you call them, some long lasting, others appearing for a short time, all trying to gain favour with one or more of us in return for untold power over their fellow humans.  I can tell you this: the gods neither know nor care for your pathetic entreaties.  You are to us as those little creatures you call ants are to you.  When we return we will roll over you and barely even notice.

More interesting to me, and certainly more entertaining, are those who seek to prevent our return.  These valiant, brave and foolhardy people devote their lives to foiling the plans of those who wish to hasten our return.  It is most amusing to observe their struggles, giving their lives so that humanity can go on existing.  Even when they break – and they all break, some sooner than others – more rise to take their place.  Over thousands of years I have seen schemes concocted with the most meticulous of planning and detail, only to be spoiled by a small, seemingly insignificant act of defiance.  It certainly makes for an interesting way to while away the millennia.

Recently – and I use the word recently in a very broad sense – I have begun taking a more direct approach in the affairs of your world.  I make no plans or schemes myself, after all there is no need when you have such imaginative people of your own.  Instead I simply nudge and suggest. An idea here, a vision there, the odd promise of power, some of which I even fulfil, the possibilities are literally infinite.  I have appeared in your world in many forms and guises.  Some of them are calculated to inspire fear and worship, others to engender trust and confidence.  Some are fantastic and others commonplace.  With these forms I can plant seeds of ideas or grant certain powers, just enough to start the wheels turning.  Then I simply step back and watch events unfold.  It is especially amusing to me to set seemingly conflicting schemes in motion, watching armies of humans fervently working against each other, each believing that theirs is the only true way while those daring and foolish enough to stand against them heroically give their lives.  None of them know the truth about us.  The truth that assures our ultimate victory over everything.  The great truth is that we are patient.  One day we will win.  One day we will return and all that you hold dear will cease to exist.  To us a thousand years passes like a single moment.  With that sure certainty, what do we care if a particular plot succeeds or fails?

I believe you yourself have encountered some of my forms as you have been reading, or did you truly believe you had come across these pages by chance?  Perhaps this is another subtle nudge, another vague suggestion?  Who knows what you may do with the knowledge you have acquired?  Will you turn to our worship and mistakenly try to help us?  Will you seek to increase your own power at the expense of your fellow man?  Or will you devote the rest of your meaningless existence to frustrating us and our followers?  Will you work to ensure that your pathetic world and the people on it go on living for just one more day?  As with all those who have met me, whether knowingly or unknowingly, the choice is entirely in your hands.

The wheels of another scheme will begin to turn soon.  Great schemes, concocted by the greatest minds your world has to offer.  And within those wheels are more wheels.  And more wheels.  And yet more wheels.  And at the centre of all the wheels and all the schemes you will find me, poking, prodding, pulling, nudging and, of course, laughing.

I am eternal.

I am chaos.

I am Nyarlathotep.