"The world's irregularities are escalating by the day. It's unpredictable, as predicted. There's still something missing in this puzzle, something that prevents me from predicting the outcomes of this chaotic system. One component to..."

Descartes's scribbling was interrupted by the sound of knocking.

"In" he murmured, annoyed by the disturbance.

A young guard stumbled into the study.

"Master sir, a gipsy requires your visit!"

"A what?..."

"A gipsy. A fortune teller."

"And what on earth makes you think it's a great idea to bother me with such tomfoolery?!"

"She claims to have something valuable to you, master."

Descartes looked around. Dusk was peering through the curtains. Dirty dishes all over the furniture. He's lost the track of time, but he could see he hasn't left the room for at least half a week.

"A small walk won't do me harm."

He had no idea how wrong he was. "Welcome to my domain, you who is born of god and void."

"Why are you disturbing me, what for?"

The woman gave him a twisted smile, as if he stepped right into her trap.

"There's an unknown rythm in the universe..."

"Possibly. So?"

"A rythm that binds all things."

His eyes were set aflame by the realization.

"The key to everything..."

She pointed at him with a warning.

"But the one who disobeys will be cursed, will be sane..."

His voice trembling, he just begged:

"Show me."

She's grabbed an ornate dagger, laying among magical instruments, stood up and approached him.

"What are you doing?"

"To see the thing how they are, you need to unveil the eyes of your mind. The ritual doesn't harm those who have faith."

"Faith? I am a man of science!"

"Then in science your faith lies. There's always something out of measure in which you have to believe to be anchored within reality. And so, behold The Puller of All Strings!" she screamed, and swiftly stabbed him dead between his eyes. Descartes woke up in an unfamiliar space. Everything he saw was beyond human reason, and just at the edge of possible grasp for his genius mind. Among it all lied an impossible creature - a god of some sorts, reeking of cruel trickery. With senses not meant for a human to be experienced, he's sensed that it's sleeping. And dreaming. Dreaming a dream of degenerate conception.

The realization came soon enough - it is his reality that's being dreamt into being. And there's no much time left before the mockery through sleep will bore the Dreamer. "There's not much time left!" he screamed, waking up. She pulled the dagger out of his head, miraculously undoing all harm done.

"Indeed."

"I understand you ability now. You observe the breathing and the fluid flows of the Dreamer and predict the dream's course of action based on the tendencies of those phenomena. You're no more of a magician than I am!"

She gave him a tired smile.

"All is magic until it's understood deeply enough to become science."

"Yes, thank you. Your undisputable favor will be returned. I'll begin working on preventing the collapse of the known universe immediately!"

"Oh yes, the favor will surely be returned..."

It never crossed his busy mind, that her actions were not motivated by survival, but something much deeper and more sinister. Revenge. The world needed a surogate. An artificial womb to keep itself alive. An impossible cradle.

Descartes pondered long and hard. What could exist despite the barriers of reality? Inside and outside at once? Dreams. Nightmares. Through mad logic he's engineered a machine, capable of sustaining reality around itself, using fear as its fuel. Not ordinary fear though, no. Fear of a nightmare. Something beyond human comprehension. It couldn't be imagined. But it could be calculated. Descartes formulated the pure horror, but wasn't unscathed by the end of the process - his mind has become unhinged, more vulnerable to the flows behind The Curtain.

"There was an unknown rythm in the universe. A rythm that binds all things. Now I shall replace it with my brilliance, establish and rule the Empire of the Mind!"

The construction of the engines was hasty and desperate, as the reality was visibly falling apart. By the end of the final day of work, concepts as basic as language were completely erased from the universe, almost dooming their efforts to failure. Despite such a major setback, they succeeded all the same, enslaving and torturing nightmares to keep their surroundings from total erasure. With time, more engines were built, restoring the land lost.