Some forty feet above a fishing village, there appears a snappily-dressed young lady with a sword on her back. She tumbles to the ground.
"Uh, theatrical playfighting. I think there would be a lot of audience for it since you're a literal wicked emperor. I have a friend who likes to pretend but the genuine article's hard to come by."
"I admit that sounds like fun except for the part where it sounds like I'd be scripted to lose. Much more fun if it's a game to be won or lost on skill."
"I usually do at least loosely scripted but improv is also acceptable!"
"Then if you win that bet I'll make time for it, although to be honest if you lose I probably still will."
"I'll look forward to it."
"...I know you don't really know what it's going to do about anything, but—might it let me build my own paradise? Or is that—not the sort of thing it does?"
"It lets people mostly alone as long as they're not dying. There's a religious minority called the Amish who are against technology in general, they still do, like, farming, and Sing doesn't let them die forever, it insists on freezing them, but otherwise they can farm if they want. I guess it's probably doing something to make sure they don't abuse their children but I don't have the slightest idea what, it's really backed off."
"Well. Then I guess I probably get to build my paradise assuming I can find anyone willing to live in it."