Is your brain constantly thinking, or do you have times of silence?

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When my surface thoughts quiet, that only means the maelstrom underneath hasn’t escalated to full-on all-out take-no-prisoners warfare. The Great Game of Power no longer needs involve the innocent mortals. Factions arise and crumble during these thousand year-long reigns of ‘peace’, but at least the human toll is both bearable and at least somewhat rational.

But when one faction decides to make a power play, shots fire across the bow and are answered with the dull thud of steel resolve, there is no stopping the ensuing carnage. Militias are raised, armed and sent into warfare with nothing that even barely approaches “training.” No national resource is left unplundered by the demands of war. Thousand-year stretches of war punctuated by hundred-year bloodbaths.

All that was built up, gone in a flash, and the engine of war production grinds out more war materiel from the bloody fields of mind.

There is no doubt, no worry, no concern on any parties part that the war is not just. There are no defectors, no place for humor that isn’t midnight black, but inexplicably there remains room for tactical escalation. When technological warfare grounds down into defensive posturing, magic rears its ugly head.

The fighting spills out of my head and out into the world. The city becomes more animated, I start taking risks that serene peaceful me never thought of taking. I learn anew what safety looks like in my city at 3am in the morning. Demons visit me in the ‘quiet’ of the night and rack my body with exquisite tortures. The essence of my will urges them to plow ahead, cleanse this body and mind with the fire of eternal strife.

Never is there a resolution, there is only ever temporary armistice, an uneasy truce. Because if it were to keep going, it eventually yield something far worse than endless self-torture. Not peace, this human being and all the factions and humans comprising them could never even entertain the thought of such a travesty.

No, what’s feared is that the flywheel will spin itself apart and all of the energy built up from the torture and conflict will dissipate into fine bloody mist. That fear keeps me from too much escalation all at once. Instead I must figure out how to escalate gradually.

Whether directly involved in the endless warfare or not, is only ever of momentary concern to me. Sometimes I peel back the curtains and take a look at the gory hellscape. Occasionally I’ll get mad and yell that they’re not working hard enough, let’s get a move on, maggots. Whichever side’s currently winning, I’ll add a few divisions over to the other side just to make the battle run that much more closely. If I can whip up another magical episode, I’ll happily sacrifice millions. I’ll move a few pieces around the board, look at it awhile to ensure that Eastasia will still be at war with Eurasia in a million years when I can afford to take another look.

Then I’ll close it back up, come back to the outside world, give you a smile and maybe a hug, just to reacquaint myself with what empathy feels like after my war planning session, maybe give you some tips on wrestling with your inner demons if that’s what you’re looking for, and exist as a normal person for a few million years. Perhaps 20 minutes later when I’ve upheld the commitments I’ve made to all the people who perhaps haven’t made such a game out of self-torture, I return to run my little underworld.