Judge sat on his oversized, luxurious throne in the Studio, mulling over one of his next brilliant ideas. He'd already experinted with teleportation, enough to know that with enough principle (and sheer stubbornness), he could fold space like it was a badly written script.
But today? Today, he was going to take things up a notch. Teleportation would solve a problem but create another problem, so creating a clone and switching with it seed like a better plan. No need to break reality every ti he wanted to move from point A to point B. His baby legs deserved better.
So, he rolled up his sleeves, stretched out his ntal faculties like an athlete before a big match, and began the arduous process of creating his clone.
"Alright," Judge muttered to himself, "it's ti to duplicate this perfection."
He stood in front of a mirror he summoned (because why not have a mirror in your interdinsional space?) and focused hard on the idea of a clone—a mirror image of himself, but preferably without all the baby fat and the constant need to be fed.
He pictured the mirror version of himself... nothing happened. Maybe if he tried hard? He tried again... still nothing. His personal space refused cooperate, he dropped the idea quicker than a boyfriend going for milk after getting the pregnancy results.
He decided to adopt ethercraft, because magic always works out sohow. He looked into the mirror again and almost fell for his own beauty, "Man I'm such a lady killer" He thought. He thought about what kind of materials are the best when it cos to making a clone and decided to opt for rubber.
He first conjured up so rubber and plastic for the skin and bones, he put them in front of the mirror. Ether swirled around him, turning into a rather big orb in front of the mirror. His eyes sparkled as he visualized the masterpiece he was about to create... Himself. He used ether to lt both the materials and made a path for them to follow.
In a burst of light that looked suspiciously like confetti, the clone appeared. There it was, standing in front of him—a perfect replica, wearing the sa black suit, the sa handso face, and the sa mildly annoyed expression.
Judge looked the clone up and down, gave a nod of approval, and whispered, "Not bad. Not bad at all." And after a pause, he continued "Gosh! I'm such a lady killer," He couldn't hold back the thought.
The clone, predictably, said nothing. It just stood there, waiting. Judge decided to na it... Clone-Judge. It was simple, to the point, he didn't require any creativity.
Next up: teleportation. He scratched his chin (yes, he summoned a beard just so he could dramatically scratch it). His earlier teleportation experints had worked, but this ti, the stakes were higher. He wanted to switch places with Clone-Judge, not just zap to so random spot in his own Studio. Simple in theory, complicated in execution.
But he was Judge—complicated was his middle na (well, not really, but it might as well be since he doesn't have a middle na) and he was still in the dark about his family na, all he knew was that it had sothing to do with 'Dragons'.
He adjusted his teleportation principle. Before, he had just visualized his destination, pull the ether strings, connect the fabric of space between the two places, and poof—teleportation done. This ti, he had to use Clone-Judge as the destination, making sure that their respective locations swapped. Easy? Not at all. Possible?
Absolutely.
Judge focused, letting his mind wrap around the idea. Ether buzzed around him like a swarm of eager fireflies, and he visualized the principle: instead of just going sowhere, his soul and body would switch coordinates with Clone-Judge's. One second passed. Then two. Then—
Pop.
Judge blinked. He wasn't on the throne anymore. He was standing where Clone-Judge had been, while Clone-Judge now sat smugly on the throne, wearing an expression that was exactly the sa as his own but sohow more annoying. But he soon realized sothing, he was not breathing, in fact, his arms felt like rubber...
"Wait a damn minute!" he scread (at least he tried to) as he realized what had just happened.
He had switched places with the clone, but only his soul was switched, not his body. He imdiately switched back and patted himself and breathed heavily to make sure everything was alright. And finally, he gave a sigh of relief, he did not die because he was inside the studio.
He crossed his arms, looking solemn and definitely not in the mood for jokes. He had two choices in front of him, Either he try to perfectly switch between him and the clone, or he create a functional clone that could guarantee him being alive even if he was outside.
Both were complicated and the forr one seed more plausible. While he was thinking hard on a solution, a blue light appeared and flashed.
"Ugh, her again," he groaned.
From the blinding light appeared the deity of stories, gliding down as though gravity simply didn't apply to her. She smiled at him, her whole vibe exuding "I'm here to make your life both easier and infinitely more difficult." She descended slowly before him and stood on the red carpet between his throne and the descending stairs which led to the long table made of marble.
"Have you lost your way, little one?" She said with a smile. like so ancient therapist with a questionable track record.
"Hold up" Judge motioned his hand for her to stop, "First of all, no, just no. Second, this is not the set of 'Doctor Deity, How May I Fix You?' And third, I haven't even done anything wrong—yet... well, since I am a baby."
The deity pouted, which looked incredibly bizarre on soone who claid to govern all stories. "You should know that you are the only one who speaks to this way. The girl I just t a few monts ago was so much respectful." She looked like a young girl throwing a tantrum.
Judge blinked. "The girl?" He didn't like the sound of that. The last thing he needed was a colleague. He had enough on his plate already—baby schedules, world domination, creating clones. Networking was not on the agenda.
"Oh yes, I got another recorder of stories," Feigning ignorance to Judge's growing discomfort. "She's very far from where you are now, but don't worry, you'll et her eventually. Years from now, actually., but I assure you that you will see her." The deity was smiling again.
Judge shifted uncomfortably. Fantastic. A playdate with another recorder. Just what I needed. "Right, moving on," he said quickly, waving off the idea of 'colleagues.' "Why are you really here?"
The deity brightened, seemingly glad to have an excuse to drop more unresponsible advice. "Ah, yes! I saw you were struggling with your little cloning business, so I thought I'd remind you of sothing important. Since you are behind your schedule in providing a proper story." She snapped her fingers, and Judge's mask appeared in her hands.
Judge's eyes narrowed. "Okay, what cryptic nugget of wisdom do you have this ti?" He said with a sigh. He was just a baby and she was already expecting him to provide stories, but as long as he could get out, he was willing to provide a story or two.
She grinned and tossed him the mask. "Rember, the caraman never dies." And just like that—poof—she vanished into thin air, leaving only her vague words and a mildly annoyed baby genius.
Judge stared at the mask for a second before a lightbulb (an imaginary one, of course) popped above his head. "Of course! The mask! How could I forget?"
With a new plan in place, he put the mask on, feeling the familiar weight settle over his face. He didn't just look like the world's most mysterious caraman; he was the world's most mysterious caraman. "I won't die as long as I wear this one, and I can get out and record stories, oh I'm such a genius"
Satisfied with his brilliance, Judge decided it was ti to test the final product. He was ready for the next step. He went back to his crib, snuggling into the sheets with an evil grin—well, as evil as a baby could manage—and drifted off to sleep, ready for tomorrow night's big test.
———
Morning ca, and with it, the usual chaotic rituals of baby life. Baths were splashes of unwanted cold water, dressing up was like being squeezed into a fashionable straightjacket, and breakfast...well, breakfast was delightful, as long as you liked being spoon-fed mashed goo, as humiliating as it was to say this, but he had to say it, he missed milk, all because of so kind of sweet goo.
Judge endured it all with the patience of a man plotting his rise to power (which, coincidentally, he was).
The day went by without much fanfare. There was the usual family chitchat, so cryptic mutterings from his grandfather, and his mother's casual strolls around the estate, his father was nowhere to be found. But the real action was coming as night fell. That was when Judge would put his teleportation plan to the ultimate test.
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