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The year: 85,271. The Place: a world dipped in blood and saffron, banded by rings of emerald and night. The rogue 13th planet, LAi, traced a ragged ellipsoid path tangential to the plane of the elliptic - the trickster planet, strangest of all Sol's brood. This is the world of the Creeper. Welcome...and beware. For this is a place neither safe nor normal. Here, even the incalculably sophisticated laws of physics of the 853rd century are considered merely recreations. And on the wind, one can hear the faint but distinct sound of mocking laughter. As a nexus of improbability, Lai is an ideal point from which to access the implicate order and interface with the neosphere - the invisible see of information that permeates areas inhabited by intelligent beings - in which every fleeting thought, every great inspiration, every trivial whim that passed through minds across the eons is written in the ether for eternity. For those adepts skilled in tapping that ocean, knowledge lost or hidden over the millennia may be retrieved - and that which has been forgotten in the omnipediac datastructure shared throughout the United Galaxies. He is one such adept, a technobiotic hyperparallel trans-quantum entity designated with the apellation RYDR. He has dived far into those waters of bodiless memory, drunk deep of their dark, turbulent depths - and in so doing, has been changed. As a result, he is drawn tothe most unlikely event-paths; acquired, it might be said, an appetite for the aberrant and improbable. Having tasted of chaos, he has developed an affinity for it, a bond, and a duty. In times of need, he must undergo a total morphogenic state-vector inversion, becoming that which he is not. The other, his antithesis, the sum total of collective unreason; shamanic avatar of the human preconscious - that living distillate of raw madness known as...the Creeper.

Sniffing the aetheric turbulence, he senses what has summoned him forth - causality violated past the point of madness; a Gorian knot of insanity tied in the thread of existence, impervious to RYDR's scalpel of reason. Tasting the cacophony of 12-dimensional paratachyonic flux, he traces the reality dysfunction to its focal point in the dim recesses of history - and sees immediately the inevitable impossible solution. Though the restrictions set by both man and nature against transit into the past are severe and nickers at the temporal "No Trespassing" signs and pranks space, time, and legislation simultaneously - launching himself back to the beginning - the era of the archetypal template of his countless incarnations. Thanks to the seriously twisted side effects of a new wonder drug, the him and the Creeper had split into two seperate individuals. Leaving the original Creeper a bag of bones, empty as a campaign promise after election day and as useless as complaining about it. As if that wasn't bad enough, the Creeper kept on splitting, his all-encompassing madness exponentially fractionating into its component parts - then mondo jumbo showed up - not by splitting off from the Creeper, but by coming out of him from inside. He's different from the others and he is dangerous than all of them put together.

Having excised the crippling aspect of self-loathing from the progenitor's essence, the Creeper revels in a job well done - brimming with glee that he himself was not only the solution to the temporal metaparadox -  but its cause. Once again, the morphogenic state-vector is reversed - leaving him to his own task of composing this record of events.

Thus concludes this account of his progenital ancestor from the period of that particular incarnation.

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