Of the many tales of the bold and brilliant Cesare, none has ever been as moving as the story of his temporary insanity. His wit was thrown to a place where he could not use it, and so was not able to maneuver his lips or limbs accurately or desirably. This battle was not fought outwardly, but within the confines of his mind, and imagination. Power is dangerous it is true, for the thought of loss is unthinkable; thus the power over our mind is the most dangerous, since it is the most coveted.
The details of Cesare’s outward situation are unclear, but the epic battle for control has been fully documented, in its incredibility; such incredibility that it warrants incredulity from all who hear it, and most who tell it.
The king, Cesare was in a cell. He had recently been overthrown and replaced by an unsuitable subordinate that could not run a world such as he lived in. This world was great in its complexity, and had accomplished many things within its boundaries. Neurotopia was a metropolis that was rivaled by few others, and matched by fewer. Cesare had been a good leader. He was not perfect, and his temporary (yet frequent) absences had damaged the world’s reputation and self respect; however, when he was in his rightful position, his calm reign had brought an end to all dissenters nonviolently and fully. However, he had left for too long, and now was held captive by his own subjects. His second in command, Alterego, had assumed command, and led Neurotopia into disaster.
Cesare would break free. His very will could untie the rope and open the cell door, and he did, willingly. Will was one of his more faithful men, who followed him whenever there was something that he knew he needed (or, perhaps, wanted) to do. Will knew his master well, and served him well also. Unfortunately, his mind was not strong, and required guidance from the intellectual Cesare. The former king knew what he would have to do. He would need to destroy or detain Alterego and regain his thrown to restore Neurotopia from its current turmoil to the past utopia.
He could not do it alone. The only force strong enough to directly confront Alterego was the Imaginator. This shady figure was a ubiquitous presence in Neurotopia, but he and his men often slipped from the edges of thought when thought was directed towards them. Cesare knew that they lived far from his home, and that it would take much journeying to reach them, but he was ready to enter hell itself if it meant regaining Neurotopia. At this point Cesare slipped into a reverie about his kingdom and its accomplishments. Soon he saw Alterego take the throne, destroy and repress his people, and foolishly attack and fraternize with other worlds. He then saw himself riding a tremendous blue emu into the capital of Neurotopia and smiting Alterego with a magnificent table tennis racket made of gold. He was startled by this strange dream and shook himself, only to realize that the men he sought were before him.
“Ah,” said Cesare, “You are exactly the men I seek.”
“We know,” replied one. “We seek you as well.”
Cesare frowned for a moment, then answered, “You have found me.”
The stranger’s eyes widened, growing wider than the moon and brighter than the sun, blinding Cesare with its impressiveness.
“Have we?” it said, and more as a statement than a question. “How can we have found one who has lost himself? The kingdom is a part of you just as much as you of it; it needs you and you it. It is a mutually brilliant relationship that you cannot disregard.”
“I need your help to retake it,” pleaded the powerless Cesare, shielding his eyes.
This gesture only caused the phantom’s eyes to grow but wider and brighter. “Why?” it asked.
“You are the Imaginator. Your power and sorcery coupled with my mind can only spell victory.”
“Or ‘rheumatism.’”
“What?”
“Never mind. I am at work at this very moment. What I do here you shall never see again, save in dreams,” said the Imaginator, and as he spoke a great red ostrich rose from the dusty earth, and a mighty cricket bat was born unto Cesare. Cesare took his giant feathery steed and rode to Neurotopia to dethrone Alterego. As he neared the palace archers shot hundreds of arrows at him, not seeing who he was. The arrows turned into strips of cotton as they neared Cesare, and a humongous weevil gathered and ate the wasted cloth.
Cesare neared the throne room. He saw the many advisors of thought tied up in the corner, and Alterego sneered and ate messily.
“Alterego,” yelled Cesare, “I have come for you.”
Alterego looked up from the remains of his meal, and looked at Cesare disdainfully.
“I am the ruler of Neurotopia now,” he spat. “You left one too many times.”
“My lapses were nothing to your stupidity. You shall be overthrown.”
“With what? A cricket bat? You may take your silly English sport elsewhere, sir, and stick it…”
“Enough!” shouted Cesare over the vulgar other, and with that he threw the cricket bat at his foe. The bat transformed into a bat, and flew headfirst into Alterego and out of the window. Alterego clung to the bat and fell into the lake below.
Cesare soon regained complete control over his mind and body, and though his foolish lack of attendance remained an issue, his reign was respected and not disputed.