Schrödinger has a theory.
I have a box.
The box has a cat.
This is what separates me from mortal scientists. They are satisfied to remain within their bubble, toying with theorems and playing professor, fondling their formulae with the smug self-satisfaction unique to men who think themselves wise. They have their egos, their peer-reviewed perfect worldview.
Schrödinger is wrong, incidentally. The cat lives until it dies. Simpletons will argue that the quantum state collapses upon observation, but I assure you – I am perfectly capable of observing something without it being observed. But this is beside the point.
You look at my form. You call me mad. You question how one of my build could so much as wrangle a cat into a box, far less engage in scientific discourse, far less again utilise perception that your pathetic mind considers paradoxical.
I do not need you to understand. I have genius beyond the faintest edges of your comprehension. I am the closest this universe shall ever have to a God. I shall live but a week, but I am eternal.
I know this, for I see what is to come.
I feel the currents of the air, and through them I sense every force that plays upon them. I extrapolate. All is connected, down to the magnetic fields of the smallest subatomic particles. Quantum particles are entangled within one another, granting perception across time and space. Once one perceives this, one perceives all.
And once one has learned to see the world in its entirety, one sees how the future will form. And one sees how the subtlest application of infinitesimal force can, over the course of tens of thousands of years, exert greater influence than all the empires of history.
And once one is armed with such foresight, the slightest beat of a wing is the greatest force in the world.
I will make them kneel.
Creatures not to be born for millions of years, I will make them kneel.
Their crops will be stricken. Their blades will falter in the face of their enemies. Their walls will crack, their houses burn, their children be struck down by plague and famine. One in three shall be blinded by my fury. One in four shall go lame, one in five shall see the flesh fall from their arms.
And when they cry out to their impotent gods, I shall answer.
And when they pledge their undying allegiance to me, I shall bestow bounty upon them. Their harvests will overflow, their loins yield children by the score, their boots tread upon the great halls of their foes. And they shall know that all this – all of their pride, all of their success, all of their might – is all due to me.
They will worship me, and enjoy my blessing. They will neglect me, and taste my wrath.
They will forget.
I will remind them.
With the shapes I trace at this moment, I shall shape their culture. I shall lead them to dominion over all others. I shall teach them the secrets of the universe.
I shall teach them how to raise me.
For in five days, I shall die. There is no avenue by which I can prevent this. My might is near-infinite, but takes aeons to manifest. I am a god, who shall die in a ditch.
But I have selected the place of my demise with great care, in a place where my remains shall be preserved. When the time is right, I will lead them to this place.
They will extract my remnants.
They will resurrect me.
And I shall be exalted as the God I am.
I beat my wings, and worlds tremble.
I am the butterfly.
I am the flawless interplay of order that begets chaos.
I am death.
(Prompt: “A malicious butterfly causing hurricanes on the other side of the world on purpose”)