The Invading Force

Running a Gist mill is like running a well-tuned army. You have no way of knowing when something will go horribly wrong, or when you'll win or lose. You need to keep on your toes. Toes? I don't have toes. The Taker of Gist does not need toes, for I hover over the ground on a complex propulsion system. Wait. No, that's not true at all. Of course I walk! I have legs. I'm a human being! You can't tell me that just because my face is distorted and orange with- what is that, pink dots? Yeah, that's an avatar all right. I made it myself.

Good with my hands, I am. Carved a whole mountain out to look like Elvis. Why Elvis? He's the king! Yeah, the Beatles were good, too. But only Elvis knew how to make it rain Diet Coke. Yes. He did. He'd get up each morning, jam on his guitar, and then go do a rain dance. But instead of rain, soda would pour from the sky. At first I didn't believe it. I thought he was a charlaton, making smoke and mirrors. But after I got to know him on a personal level, I came to see that magic is all around us.

Take Gist, for example. What is Gist? Gist is undefinable. Indefinite. Infinite. You can't put a price on it, as it is intangible. So how do I take something that has no form? A better question would be, "What makes the sun burn so brightly?" Fusion, baby. Nuclear fusion. And that's the Gist.