"Why must he be stored in me?" Freddy asked. "I already feel so. . . unclean, for what you have made me do."
"Because, the dimension is most easily affixed to an object, such as your body. Your body serves as the exterior to that world. The world itself is the interior." said Opera Penguin. "Don't worry, it won't usually open up to there. Only when I intend to open up that place."
"Why do we have to wait?" Roxanne asked.
"Because that child is a resource, and I will, first and foremost, use that resource to make you into someone who can love herself, in the same exercise of power in which the rest of your friends will also getting a serious upgrade." said Opera Penguin.
"I, I love myself already, you asshole. . ." Roxanne sounded like she was about to cry.
"I have already said what I will say on that subject." said Opera Penguin. "You alone know yourself."
Roxanne stormed off.
"Another thing." Freddy said, as if he hadn't seen what just took place.
"Yes?" said Opera Penguin.
"When Sun was indecisive, why did you not bring out the DJ? He is quite sociable." Freddy asked.
Opera Penguin laughed. "Are you kidding? He's huge!"
"Oh. That is. . ." Freddy said, "a much more, how might I say it, basic reason than I was expecting."
"Funny thing you say that." said Opera Penguin. "I actually just lied to you. You see, when I lie, it's really to make things easier for everyone. The real reason might be a little, well, I guess you could say it might be a little hard to grasp."
"Could you tell me in the most simple terms?" asked Freddy.
"Well it honestly isn't, as you're probably thinking, a matter of bias." said Opera Penguin. "It's more that DJ Music Man is a little less, well, there. His real mind is a bit, I guess you could say, younger."
"Real mind?" Freddy asked.
"See, this is what I meant." said Penguin, slumping.
"I notice your speech and demeanor have become much more casual." said Freddy.
"Yes, the way I acted before was just that, an act. And I really can't keep it up for as long as I plan to be here." said Opera Penguin.
"I see. But truly, what do you mean by a 'real mind'?" asked Freddy.
"Well, this'll be long, but" Penguin said, "This world rejects true power."
"Your presence here seems to say otherwise." said Freddy.
"On the contrary, the fact that my power is remarkable to you is proof of the fact. This world rejects power by confiscating the essence of spirits whenever they grow under their own power, but it does less to affect the power that already is within me. Many universes have some sort of shroud of spiritual suppression, but seldom are they absolute on all fronts. Often there is a form of spiritual essence that is allowed to grow, or one which is given by the cosmos as a sort of compensation. In this world's case, it's something in between. Power springs forth under three circumstances: Birth, art and death." said Opera Penguin.
"I-I suppose you were correct. I do not understand. I suppose you are saying that even we machines have some higher, profound existence, proven by our consciousness? And this comes from the fact that we are art?" asked Freddy.
"Almost. But I'm afraid it's only the shell of you that comes from art. Your true beginning was with death." said Opera Penguin.
"What is death, then? I thought it meant an end." Freddy asked.
"Death is the end of life, yes." said Opera Penguin.
"I thought life meant the state of being, of existing as a conscious being." said Freddy. "That is the definition from the innate lexicon programmed into me."
"Not quite." said Opera Penguin. "Life is both a state and a thing. It is the most natural state of being, but not the only one. It is characterized by its vibrancy, and its finitude. There are others. Other states, that are also other things. The state of life is the possession of the thing called life. Similarly, these other states involve the possession of other. . . things, in life's place. You and others have been existing here in one of the others in that state for quite some time."
"I do not. . . I do not remember dying." said Freddy.
"Well, you never did as the one you are now." said Opera Penguin. "Only as the one you once were. Have you ever had the feeling that the person whom you think yourself to be is not who you truly are?"
"How did you know? Is this to do with my 'shell' that you say comes from art?" asked Freddy.
"Precisely." said Opera Penguin. "And that's why there are some here who I don't plan to listen to. Because their 'shell' is greater than they are. And they only make it bigger with time."
"And why is that important?" asked Freddy.
"What comes from birth and death is unique and irreplaceable." said Opera Penguin. "What comes from art is created by man and can be created again. But I must tell you. . ."
"Yes?" Freddy asked.
"When I give you life. I will make you one with the heart of your shell. I will make your shell, your persona, become a part of you. I know I forced you into the first part of the pact, but I will permit you escape from this, if it is unacceptable to you." said Opera Penguin.
"I do not understand what this entails." said Freddy.
"Let me ask you something." said Opera Penguin. "Do you like being 'Freddy'? Do you like being 'Glamrock Freddy'?"
"Very much so. I love performing. I love this place. I love the children. I love being their entertainer, their hero. I love making them happy. Even though it's disappointing when I can't make them happy."
"Then you would forgive someone who wronged you terribly in order to stay as 'Freddy' forever? To become more him than ever before? If that terrible wrong was what got you here, but it was truly despicable?" Opera Penguin asked.
"Of course. I do not suppose you could elucidate this question's purpose for me?" Freddy asked.
"Very well. Your current existence is based not only on death, but also on a destiny of vengeance. You were wronged, long ago. Your vengeance was gained, but it was empty, for the one against whom it was scored came back, and then after getting killed again, he came back again. In fact, he always comes back. So your existence is based on chasing vengeance that you will never receive. But when I give you life, your existence will not be conditionally based on that. It will be based on life. Even the lingering ghostly parts of your being will become able to exist on its own, even without life, should you retain the will to do so." said Opera Penguin.
"Well, this sounds positively wonderful! But, I still feel terrible about Gregory. How is what you are doing to him conducive to giving us life?" Freddy asked.
"My magic is a form of art in itself. I have made power in him by making art of him. I have made power in him to make his sorrow powerful. However, after this first night, I will not directly be causing the emotion I am harvesting. In addition, his power will also produce energy from others' satisfaction at his emotional state, whatever that may be. As long as it pleases another, it will also produce that same kind of energy." said Opera Penguin.
"So if I make him happy, and I feel happy about it, you will not be motivated to make him sad?" Freddy asked.
"Right on the money." said Opera Penguin. "Though he will still have to stay in you during the daytime."
"I see. . ." said Freddy.
"You know what? You've been a good sport about this. How about I give you an additional little something?" asked Opera Penguin.
"I am sorry, but I do not wish to work for you further for the foreseeable future." said Freddy.
"No, no! Nothing like that. Just a little token of goodwill I figured you might enjoy." said Opera Penguin.
"What is it?" Freddy asked, warily.
Opera Penguin took off his hat.
"Not only am I a magician in the literal sense, but you might have noticed I also dress somewhat like a stage magician, yes?" asked Opera Penguin.
"I was not aware of a distinction between the two." said Freddy.
"Ah, well." said Penguin. "But you know the whole stereotype of pulling a rabbit out of one's hat?"
"Yes, but. . . you do not mean to say that-" Freddy began, before Penguin threw off his hat, which warped in size briefly, while Penguin waved his arms, and out levitated. . .
"Bonnie!" Freddy exclaimed. "But how?"
"Magic." said Opera Penguin, waving his hand, and then vanishing.
"H-hello, Freddy." said Bonnie, his voice sounding oddly hollow.
"Is that truly you?" Freddy asked.
"I'm the same person you always knew as, as Bonnie, yes. But I'm changed, as well. He spared me no painful memories as he brought me back." said Bonnie. "I remember many things which I'd rather not."
"I am sorry." said Freddy.
"It's not your fault. Listen, I know he brought me back but you can't trust him. We're like dolls to him. Even if we were flesh and blood, we still would be. We will be." said Bonnie.
"Well, I am at least thankful for his doing this." said Freddy.
"That's what he wants you to feel. Please, don't let it cloud your judgement." said Bonnie.
"Well, you'll also have to tell that to Chica. She will be overjoyed." said Freddy.
"How has she been?" Bonnie asked.
". . .not good." said Freddy. "She has been reduced to her base urges."
"What do you mean?" Bonnie asked.
"Eating garbage. And pizza-flavored slushy mix." said Freddy.
"You have no idea how uncomfortable your initial statement made me before you clarified." said Bonnie.
"I am sorry?" Freddy said, confused.
"No, you wouldn't get it. I learned a little when I was just a ghost after Monty shattered me." said Bonnie.
"What?!" Freddy asked.
. . .
Night 2
The next night, Opera Penguin opened up Freddy, and Gregory was dumped out onto the floor unceremoniously. His skin was grey, and black tear-like markings streaked his face.
"Gregory, what did he do to you?" Freddy asked.
"Now now, no need to be dramatic." said Opera Penguin.
"Why is he like that?" asked Roxanne, almost sounding angry that Gregory had changed colors.
"Nothing you need to worry about." said Penguin. "Is everybody here?"
Everybody was, except for DJ Music Man, though Opera Penguin promised Freddy he would also be affected.
"Then let's begin." said Opera Penguin. He raised his hands.
Gregory levitated into the air, and begin glowing incandescent white. The bright light consumed all vision, and caused all of the animatronics to spasm and begin to fail, but when the light cleared, there were no animatronics at all.
There were creatures. New beings.
"A few rules you'll be subjected to:" said Opera Penguin, "Firstly, you have all night to be alive, but in the day time you may only be alive while no adults are looking at you. Secondly, you will no longer refer to yourselves in your living forms by your former names. Your new names are Ferdinand, Bernard, Cheyenne, Rochelle, Monsanto, Apollo—and Nyx—and Orpheus." As he said these names, Opera Penguin gestured to Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, Roxy, Montgomery, the daycare attendant(to which he ascribed two names) and then up, implying DJ Music Man. "Also, Vanessa will instantly fall asleep when she sees your living forms until I get her on the same page as the rest of you."
Freddy looked at his new body. His fingers were thicker, and he had heavy claws like Monty. His entire body felt sensitive and warm, and, overall, odd.
"But, I am Freddy-" he said, before he felt something like a cattle prod in the back of his neck.
"Not anymore. Except when you're in your non-living body." said Opera Penguin. "Anyway, I've also transferred some basic knowledge about taking care of an organic body, you know, things like eating, using the bathroom, showering—ah wait, I'm going to have to make there be a shower here somewhere, aren't I? I've also put the knowledge of social conventions and cultural norms regarding all of these things in your minds."
"Everything feels. . ." Rochelle said softly, clutching herself as if locked in a freezer, ". . .so warm, so tender. . . I feel so vulnerable."
"You are. Don't get hurt, because I won't get paid to fix your body, unlike a mechanic would with your unliving bodies." said Opera Penguin.
"I assume we will be able to return to those?" asked Ferdinand.
"Yes, you can return to them at will at any time, but, as I said, you'll also be forced to take them on in the daytime when normal adults are around." said Opera Penguin. "And also, in addition to needing food, your bodies will require an additional form of sustenance, different for each of you, one that is more spiritual in nature."
"Yes?" Ferdinand asked.
"If you want me give the laundry list now, they are: Trust, memory, offerings, love, awe, fun and company." said Opera Penguin. "But the singular names for them tell little more about them than a person's name does about them."
"Tell me about mine, then." said Ferdinand.
"This reminds me too much of horoscopes and bullshit like that." said Monsanto.
"How do you know about those?" Opera Penguin asked, somewhat confused.
"You hear a lot when you're golfing with people." said Monsanto.
"Ahh. But I assure you, these needs are very real. Without them, your bodies will ail, and lose the traits with which I have chiefly blessed them." said Opera Penguin.
"Talk in English." said Monsanto, in a surly tone.
"If you don't impress the hell out of everyone, you're going to become crippled and get ED." said Opera Penguin.
Monsanto became visibly panicked.
"Offerings?" asked Rochelle. "Are we going to need to make some kind of altar for one of us, or-"
"No, no, no!" said Opera Penguin. "Just give Cheyenne her pizza or whatever, and she'll be fine—wait, how do you know what an altar is?"
"We do have Internet access, you know." said Rochelle. "Well, not now, but in our old bodies we did. Some sites were blocked, though." said Rochelle.
"I see." said Opera Penguin. "I suppose I can add a computer room, too. No sites blocked."
"Why are you giving us all this stuff?" Rochelle asked.
"Well, it will give Cheyenne a running start, and it really is smaller than my main gift to you all." said Opera Penguin.
"But, you still haven't told me my necessity?" asked Ferdinand.
"Yours is simple. You need trust. You need to be relied upon." said Opera Penguin.
"I see." said Ferdinand. "What about the rest?"
"One of you can almost hold themselves up. If they would only love themselves, they would require little from anyone else." Opera Penguin said, smirking. "One needs fun, but he must also sometimes willingly give himself over to his other side, who needs to make sure that there is order and justice. The needs of both must be met in order to sustain him. One needs simply to be remembered. Finally, one needs to be in the presence of many people, the quantity more important than their care for him." said Opera Penguin. "I'm sure you all know who you are." he added, with a smirk. He winked, and a literal sparkle, like you'd see in a cartoon, emitted from the wink. It was an indigo light, glowing and going out like a cinder. And then, strangely, everyone knew who they were. And Gregory knew who everyone was.
Opera Penguin then turned and manifested a door in one of the walls. Ferdinand stepped forward, curiously, and opened it. There was a great suction of air as a great, gaping void, in which there were lights of many colors, mostly violet, which seemed both chaotic and structured.
Opera Penguin lifted an arm, and the door shut.
"I should add that this place will revert most changes you make, while hiding others." said Opera Penguin. "So don't worry about cleaning things up. I honestly don't think I could trust you people with that anyway."
"I suppose Mont—I mean, Monsanto is somewhat disorderly." said Ferdinand. "But how will the others know all this that you're telling me?"
"I can telepathically disseminate information." said Opera Penguin.
Ferdinand paused. "I cannot access the Internet." he said.
"Best time to practice shifting back willfully." said Opera Penguin. "It won't cost you anything, except a few moments as Ferdinand."
Ferdinand convulsed slightly, and then, in a strange blur, he morphed into Freddy.
"Telepathic. Disseminate." said Freddy. "I see."
Opera Penguin laughed. "I really need to restrain my needless ten-dollar vocabulary, if it's going to have such an effect on you."
Freddy became Ferdinand again.
"Is Gregory going to be okay?" Ferdinand asked.
"That's for you to decide." said Opera Penguin. "He will doubtlessly be at odds with Rochelle. Be assured, though, I will not let him die."
. . .
Gregory got up.
He looked down on himself. He looked like he was covered in ash.
He looked up at Freddy, who looked different. He actually looked like a bear, sort of. He was still humanoid, and his eyes were still larger proportionally to his face than a non-anthropomorphic bear's eyes would be, along with some other miscellaneous proportional differences, but he was clearly flesh and blood, and his outfit was clearly separate from his body.
He saw Gregory, and called out his name.
Gregory ran up to him.
"I am so, so sor-" the 'new' Freddy began, before Gregory hugged him. "I heard you when I was stuck in there. I know, you weren't in control of what you were doing. Just try to keep the others from eating me or something, okay?"
"Gregory, I can assure you, none of my friends will want to eat you. But I am afraid I will have to take you back into that place you had to endure at each sunrise. I am sorry for this. I still cannot control all of my actions."
Gregory sighed. "It's okay, Freddy."
There was a sudden electrical noise, despite Freddy's new flesh-and-blood appearance, and he suddenly rattled off "I-am-not-Freddy-in-this-life-I-am-Ferdinand!" with the posture of someone tied to a stake having a seizure.
"Okay. . . Ferdinand?" Gregory said, uncertainly.
"I don't think I will ever feel forgiveness for this. You should not have been caught up in it all." said Ferdinand.
"It's my fault." said Gregory.
"No, you could never have foreseen anything like this, Gregory!" Ferdinand said.
"No, really! I came in here for food and shelter specifically in spite of whatever would happen. Of course, I thought it would be something more like police called, or me getting kicked back out onto the street or put in an orphanage, but I can accept this." Gregory continued.
"Well then, I will, at least, find you some food. Come, I will show you the kitchens." said Ferdinand.
. . .
Now was the time for the last pact. The one that brought it all together. The lynchpin.
Opera Penguin sunk into a great blackness below the Pizzaplex. It was not a real space, but rather something special of his own creation.
Standing some distance away was the silhouette of a man. But as a normal silhouette would be solid black, this was a solid purple, except that it darkened in the vicinity of the eyes, although the eyes themselves were silvery white, and glowed.
"Where is this? What is this place?" asked the man.
"This is a dream. A spiritual image of a space, representative of a projection of my communicative spirit." said Opera Penguin.
"Run that by me again, would you? Without the hippy talk. Please." said William.
"Just go by my first sentence. This is a dream. Except, it's not just in your head. This conversation, and everything in it, is real, with me, a real person, and will have real consequences." said Opera Penguin. "This is a physical space that I can occupy with my own body, and yet it is also a mental realm that interacts with your dreaming mind. The objects in this location are woven from my magic, physically tangible and able to interact with the material world, but subject to the laws I determine with my thought."
"I haven't had a dream in nearly a quarter of a century." said William.
"I guess the whole 'always coming back' thing didn't allow for much rest." Opera Penguin said, smiling.
"So what? You're here to gloat or something? That you swept my entire neatly-running system out from under me?" asked William.
"No, in fact. I was coming down here to offer you a pact. And in your case, I will even give it to you as a contract to sign, with all the deal in plain sight." said Opera Penguin.
A table, with a written contract and a quill—not a pen, a quill—appeared in front of William.
"With all due respect, I appreciate the gesture, but it's not like I have any choice in the matter, is it?" William asked.
"What do you mean?" Opera Penguin asked.
"I had them all under control, and now you give them free will. And I know you're going after Vanessa and Vanny next. So it's not like I have a choice." said William.
"Oh, true. . ." said Opera Penguin. "I guess you really can't use that thing that lives above you in your current state."
"You're saying I could, if I make this deal?" William asked.
"Yes, we will, in a sense, be business partners. Although I will not be so easily betrayed as your previous one." said Opera Penguin. "If you wish for a summary, you will be at the center of my operations. You will handle large amounts of power, in fact, you may see yourself become a god of sorts. But I will have a hand in much of this, and I will have a great deal of control in all of this as well."
William sighed, and signed it, still not feeling like he had any choice.
Then he woke up, inside his recharging station, in his awful, awful body.
He saw that Opera Penguin was just outside, and he exited the container.
"Are you going to give me some kind of new body, then?" he asked, as clearly as he could with a throat that felt like it had a coating of concrete on the inside.
"I could, but it'd be kind of rough and ready. Still, it would be more fit than your current form." said Opera Penguin.
"Go ahead. I'm sick of this body." said William.
Opera Penguin did a thing.
Everything suddenly felt painful like William hadn't physically felt in a long time now.
"Oh, sorry. I'll need to put on some skin really quickly." said Opera Penguin, who did another thing.
William staggered over to powered-off monitor to see his reflection, and jumped back, nearly screaming.
His new body was that of a skinless human man, but with the forehead part of the skull horrifically bloated to match the exact shape that his suit's head had had, minus the ears.
"What the hell did you make me?" William wondered aloud.
"Something better than before. That's all that matters at the moment. Anyway, the only person who will be seeing you any time soon is me, and that will mainly be in the dream." said Opera Penguin. "You might want to consider taking a stroll around this cramped space, seeing how you like the feel of your new body."
William essentially walked in a few circles around his small room. "You know what? I actually do feel better. More fit than I was when I died, that's for certain."
"Well, you can literally observe with your eyes the musculature I gave you. Not much, but equivalent to someone who's fairly healthy." said Opera Penguin.
"Not much I can do with it, though." said William.
"Now, I should probably give you a lowdown on what I'm doing with you." said Opera Penguin.
"Yes, I suppose I should at least know what's in store for me." said William, wretchedly.
"I'm essentially using you as a reservoir for all the illicitly-gained energy I gather at the Pizzaplex." said Opera Penguin. "Right now, the bodies I have given the former children produce energy out of some sort of emotional force. I assume you've been watching all along, using your influence. The bodies don't actually need that energy to maintain themselves. Rather, they actually purposefully shift into a 'lower gear' as a punitive measure for not generating enough energy."
"Emotions as an energy sounds ridiculous." said William. "Who ever lifted a stone by feeling? Actions are what matters, feelings are just what motivates them."
"I've known people who could generate the power required to lift a stone by feeling mere irritation." said Opera Penguin. "But in a sense, you're right. Will—that is, the inward beginning of effort—is almost always required to perform anything at all. But there can be times when you can make feeling into an action itself. And no, it's not absurd. Emotions are the hues of the heart, and the heart is the base of all personal existence. Spiritual power exists in the realm of personal existence, because the spirit is personal existence."
William sighed. "Again with the hippy crap."
"I'm not on drugs." said Opera Penguin.
"Whatever. Go on about this, this energy." said William.
"The stuff that comes from the, how would you say, not-animatronics, represents the positive side of our energy resources." said Opera Penguin. "Gregory represents the negative aspect. Yet, the not-animatronics will also provide that negative aspect if they begin to fail."
"And how do you use this, as you call it, 'stuff'?" William asked, stiffly.
"The negative emotional energy is more useful to us." said Opera Penguin. "Your existence in this state is actually based on energy of negative emotions in general, but suffering, as well as the moral gravity of your actions, in particular. Your being stuck in this place, 'always coming back', that's built on the essence of your victims' suffering, and on your malice. A sort of natural retribution, if you will. A way to collect your karmic debt by making you exist so long that you will inevitably suffer greatly. Or perhaps, in a more optimistic view of things, an opportunity lent to you, by the grace of circumstance, to redeem yourself. But enough of this, this really is getting into frivolous talk, of the kind which you attribute to those trapped in drug-induced pacifism and misguided ideas of hyperbolic cosmic co-dependence. The fact is that, the force you call 'remnant' is actually two forces: First, the presence of the dead you have slain, and second, the residue that their anguish leaves behind. However, there is a further dichotomy: Over time, as the children forget who they are, blinded by the shells that are put around them, the identities as the mascots of this place, the remnant becomes 'lighter'—that is to say, their energy becomes drawn from more positive emotions. The children actually produce it through the joy of 'being' the 'real' characters of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."
"Then how come I still see dark remnant here and there? And what about this light remnant? It's the one I've found uses for." said William.
"The light remnant lends itself to practical use. It has a greater tendency to take on the form of a tangible liquid or gas, for some reason I can't comprehend, and as such, people with no relevant powers can interact with it." said Opera Penguin. "This universe, as you may have heard me explain, stops power from being gained. You see, normally, power is gained quite easily, through physical and mental activity, though usually only in significant measure from physical and mental activity that uses one's existing power. In worlds such as this, however, the power is either 'denied' existence, leading to a distortion that will cause spirits to grow in power rapidly the moment they are free from such universes, or the universe absorbs power as it is grown, either to use that power to its own benefit or to redistribute it in certain ways. This one is the latter-most kind. It denies the growth of the spirit's power, but at the same time, it does so in such a way that it grants power, and sometimes a surcease of the inability to gain power, under three distinct circumstance. Birth, art and death."
"Ignoring the whole idea of implied 'multiple universes', a reality in which the natural state of things has people attaining superhuman powers seemingly by default, and the idea that universes somehow have their own ends to serve, how is this relevant?" asked William.
"Well, you see, the forms in which the cosmos redistributes this power are molded by the cosmos itself." said Opera Penguin. "And these forms have very odd specifics in regard to their mechanics, managing to function quite consistently on quite arbitrary conditions to power. Birth is an ephemeral but subtly overwhelming power. Art is timeless, but only the most impassioned art, or the art that goes on to inspire the most awe gets any real power. Death is always present, and its fruits hang in the air and drift around like pollution until they slowly disperse, unless they are harnessed by a ghost that manages to remain active and alive."
"And?" asked William.
"Even when the children forget themselves, they still have some anguish, deep inside, that commands them to kill. When they do achieve this, usually with underpaid security guards, that releases the power of death into them, and makes that anguish stronger, making the dark remnant return. Of course, any death can do this, but the agonizing deaths they inflict on below-minimum wage workers is far more efficient in giving them a reminder of their own suffering." said Opera Penguin.
"Is this going anywhere, or are you just torturing me like that hippo did during the. . . bad times?" William asked, shuddering at the memory.
"In short, light remnant is powerful to use for specific purposes, but it's the dark remnant that I can use to make you stronger. And the more of it I use to make you stronger, the more you'll be able to control it yourself. Of course, to harvest lots of it, we'll need an ample source." said Opera Penguin.
"And that's Gregory?" Afton asked.
"Yes, well," said Opera Penguin, "he's a start."
"A start? But even I can feel. . . something. . . coming off of him." said Afton.
"Yes, but I have an additional idea on how to gain more." said Opera Penguin.
"Yes?" William asked.
"Right now, I'm using my magic to hold off the spirits residing in that amorphous body up there. They want to tear you apart. But perhaps I can make a shell for them, too. One in which they, too, will lose themselves. But there will need to be a point of conflict. To cause them suffering. To cause them rage. And to make conflict, I will have to make resistance." said Opera Penguin.
"How?" Afton asked.
"Like I said, art can become power, and my magic can fulfill the requirements to be considered 'art'." said Penguin.
"And what does this entail?" Afton asked.
"It means that, even though the universe weakens many exertions of my own power, it actually is far easier to create power here than it is to do so elsewhere." said Opera Penguin.
"Give it to me in plain English." said Afton.
"I'm going to weave astral, monstrous forms for the children as of yet disembodied. And then I'm going to make the night guard fight them." said Opera Penguin, smirking as if he were merely an eleven-year-old boy, and his plans consisted of putting gum in Vanessa's hair. "Naturally, you're going to have to take your influence off of her, and tell Vanny to steer clear of her for the time being. Actually, wait. . . tell Vanny to come down here sometime soon."
"What are you going to do to her?" Afton asked, warily.
"Don't pretend you care that much. Like you said, you've found uses for light remnant." said Opera Penguin. "And you know you can just make another. That dirty mattress has Vanessa's blood on it, and you know how to make as many 'Vannies' as you need."
"Yes, I suppose that, if what you say is true, I'm actually going to have a steady supply of remnant for the foreseeable future." said Afton. "But still, I'm just kind of curious. What will you do?"
"Make Vanny powerful, so she can more stress for Vanessa. You see, I will also be harvesting energy that Vanessa will produce with the power I give her. The more high-strung she becomes, the more energy she will likely force herself to create with this power. She'll wonder why her efforts are having less and less effect, as she tries harder and harder. Of course, this power being of art and not of death, she really will not be producing any kind of remnant at all. Rather, she will be produce for me the energy that I need to weave new spaces altogether." said Opera Penguin.
"So you'll be giving Vanny powers like you'll be giving Vanessa?" asked Afton.
"Yes, but for her in particular I will use some light remnant mixed in with my own magic." said Opera Penguin.
"Is it possible for me to learn this magic you use?" asked Afton.
Opera Penguin shook his head. "Like I said, independent growth of power doesn't really work in this universe, plus. . ."
He raised a hand, and touched Afton's bloated head. A rush of knowledge, of memories ran into his head, all regarding the process of learning arcane magic, although it mercifully eschewed the actual information Penguin had learned.
"Thank you for clarifying why I don't need to start learning this, ever." Afton said, laughing. "I'm hoping that this power you will be giving me is much more, how would you say, intuitive?" he then asked.
"Most certainly!" Opera Penguin laughed. "Anything is more intuitive than arcane magic, that's what makes it so powerful. You can create anything whose metaphysical essence you can wrap your head around from the ground up, starting from absolute nothingness, weaving it into existence, using the energy of the soul as your material."
"And that's different from remnant?" Afton asked.
"Oh, yes." said Opera Penguin. "The soul is an infinite thing that is infinitely distant from all other parts of reality except the consciousness, which is its presence in the spirit. It is the infinite center of the being, and yet we have no control over it. In addition, the soul, the one part of us that's eternal, is deeper inside of us than the part of the spirit, the essence of us that is, well, us. Remnant is a business of the spirit. But the spirit is neither infinite nor eternal. We can cease to exist as who we are utterly, and all that will remain is the barest core of the consciousness, and the memory the soul has of our being. But the soul alone remains. That is truly what absolute destruction is."
"Cheerful." said Afton.
"Arcane magic is the only practice I know of that can access mana, finite portions of the soul's infinite energy. It is the only absolutely shapeless energy in existence. It has no physical manifestation. It has no appearance. Mages can only sense their own because, when it is channeled from their soul, it dwells within the consciousness, and even then we either shape it into more complex energy, or use it to harness more complex energy." said Opera Penguin. "Arcane magic is not a practice to enter into lightly, because it takes absolute dedication to use effectively."
"And why are you using yours to do all these things, here?" asked Afton.
"I'm looking to achieve something, but you don't have to worry about it." said Opera Penguin. "Right now, what we care about is making you as close to a god as you can be."
. . .