Something is reading over her shoulder.

She holds very still.

A gnarled hand clutching five battered tarot cards emerges from over her shoulder, and a voice like cracking branches gives the order: "Choose."

"...why?"

"It is the Law."

"...what. Since when? Law from where? Who wrote it? Who are you?"

"Since the beginning of time, when the Creator set down the Law of Shadopolis. We were created with the Law, its natural opposition."

"What's Shadopolis? What do you mean, natural opposition? I didn't ask when you were created, I asked who you were. Also I'd love to know why you're sta—crouching? On me."

"The new world. My world. We were created to oppose the Law. That is our purpose. That is who we are."

"If you oppose this 'Law' then why are you helping it along by making me choose whatever according to it?"

"Have you never obeyed a law that you hated?"

"...good point. So what is this Law?"

"It is the code that determines how my universe Is and Was and Shall Be."

"And it says you have to sit on my back and ask me to pick a card?"

"Not in so many words, no, but it leads inevitably to this conclusion."

"...care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Wow, so helpful. Is there anything else you can tell me about this Law?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?" she asks, once it's clear the thing's not gonna elaborate.

"No."

"Why not?"

"The Law constrains me on some matters."

"What matters?"

"A great many."