The words, suddenly, came spilling out of me.

  “Ah, relaxation. That elusive minx. That sweet siren of surrender. Always just out of reach. Her voluptuous curves beckon to us as we tell ourselves that bliss is just on the other side of just a little more noble sacrifice.”

  I looked out at the crowd. They were spellbound. It was as if the words were being channeled from some force of truth beyond us all. No one was more surprised than me.

  But who was I to question the muse when it spoke through me? Sure, its word choice was a little florid. Yes, I’ll admit, I squirmed a bit at its strange fixation on metaphors about the female form.

  Who knows where inspired rhetoric comes from? I’d read somewhere that a man steps into a moment that calls for the transmutation of his wounded soul into something sublime, and fate does the rest.

  The quote came from a book I’d found lying around in the barren outpost I’d been stationed at during my brief stint as a Human Scarecrow. It was the only reading material for miles.

  Its title, as catchy as it was morally indefensible, only came back to me in that moment, as I prepared to further dazzle the expectant crowd.

  Great Speeches by Terrible Perverts.

  Oh God.

  I made eye contact with a group of ethereal women in the first row. They smiled at me, batting their technicolor eyelashes, apparently wooed by the bile spewing from my lips.

  I let myself inhabit my body for twenty seconds and this is what happens? I made it this far without betraying my principles. And now, at the last second, I was going to blow it.

  I sounded like Gertalus Getter.

  I’d always promised myself as a boy that when I had a cult following of my own, I would never resort to this kind of boorish behavior. Devotees willing to do anything for you are for holy wars and the occasional errand, not the shallow pursuit of pleasure.

  I struggled for the words to turn this around before it got out of hand.

  “But, of course, peace isn’t only some buxom temptress,” I continued, eliciting audible groans of disappointment.

  “No. Peace. Tranquility. Contentment. They can also feel like…”

  I wracked my brain for something less popular.

  “A worm… that wants to tell you about its dream. A dentist… without gloves… who’s just eaten a wet sandwich.”

  I fumbled for an escape hatch out of this disturbing web of words I was weaving.

  “That is to say, uh—what I mean is—these images I’ve presented to you. They’re, uh, worse things. Which are—they’re opposed—to the other stuff—yes! And isn’t that the key?”

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  In that moment, despite the laws of grammar and logic, I realized I had stumbled across something true.

  Maybe not true in the sense that most people who didn’t grow up with the manifold dental problems I did would remotely understand. But true to me. Actual me. Not the fake prophet I’d been cosplaying as.

  Ludo Brax: just a guy who’s had it up to here with worms and their constant jabber.

  “Because, uh, it’s only after the worm tells you about his dream that he can realize you don’t care—and keep it to himself. It’s only after you file a complaint that the dentist can be forced to wear gloves.”

  I thought of my life to that point. I’d lived so much of it unable to appreciate the slivers of happiness I was given because I was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “Maybe it’s the fact that bad things can happen...”

  I saw the Carousel of Horrors that had literally and figuratively made up most of my days.

  "...that makes it so that good things are actually good. Like standing here in the sun, talking to all of you. Or making a friend.”

  I gestured mentally toward Meg. I felt her beaming, blushing almost. I didn’t need to say anything. She didn’t either.

  I turned back to the awestruck crowd and took a deep breath. Any moment now, I figured they’d realize what a fraud I was. I wouldn’t be the first to Ascend. I wouldn’t Ascend at all.

  It dawned on me: these were probably my final moments as a prophet.

  It had been a wild ride. Exactly the kind you’d expect if someone told you you were chosen, handed everything you could ever want, and worshipped you for doing absolutely nothing. Equal parts humiliating and excruciating.

  Suddenly, something cracked open. Some infinitesimal part of me, buried underneath all of the very real disdain I had felt for everything about this place, saw what this moment really was:

  My last chance to say something. Something true. Something people might actually hear.

  Something that, if I got lucky, could help. Or, at the very least, prove to myself this had all been worth it.

  Just then, I heard the distant call of the Cotton Candy Hawk. It was back.

  Was it recycled? Or did even the System find it too strange, too beautiful, to part ways with?

  As I listened, the bottom fell out of the whole absurd spectacle. The crowd. The togas. The small platoon of Liaisons fanning me with leaves. It was like realizing you’re in a dream halfway through. But this time, I was the monstrous freak with something to say.

  “Any moment now, you’ll all Ascend. But I won’t be going with you.”

  The roar of the stunned crowd was immediate and sustained. I tried my best to explain over the commotion, but after a moment, I just gave up. What was the use? What did it matter?

  In just a second, they’d all be on their way. The stakes, if there ever were any, could not have been lower. I felt lighter than I had in ages.

  “I didn’t make the cut. I—I… I don’t think I’m the kind of guy who’s supposed to be in a place like this. I don’t like the sun. I don’t like food. And I think the way some of you acted in here will someday be studied.”

  Copious heads whipped around and turned toward Bruno, who, feigning obliviousness, directed their attention back to me with a gracious wave.

  “I don’t know what this Garden is. But if you ask me, there’s a reason you’re moving on. A reason this isn’t forever. Because if it was—we’d all get bored.”

  I realized immediately that concept did not exist here, but I soldiered on just the same.

  “So look around you. Turn to your fellow Citizens, the Liaisons who have done so much for you. In many cases, I’m sure apologies are in order.”

  Tearful hugs abounded. An air of reconciliation, recrimination, finality.

  “That feeling you’re having right now...knowing it’s about to end?”

  “That’s the only real thing that ever happened here. That happens anywhere.”

  I felt a swell of emotion build up in my chest. I nearly choked, coughing for at least a minute before I finally managed to land the ship.

  “The rest is just bliss biscuits.”

  I allowed myself a cheeky smirk—the first time I’d truly smiled since I’d gotten there—as the final line escaped from me in giddy triumph.

  “This has been another Twizted Dispatch from the bent recesses of the Ludoverse.”

  [ARCHIVIST NOTE]: