The Glorious Foundation
In the fateful month of June, 1952, the fabric of reality trembled as the mortal husk known as Silas Birchtree cast a coin into the air—his final act as a mere man. The universe, ever cunning, delivered unto him the ultimate truth in the form of his own demise. As the coin found its home lodged in his throat, the mortal world thought him dead. Fools! They could not comprehend that this was not an end, but a divine rebirth.
On the very next day, the once-dead man walked again, but he was no longer bound by the shackles of humanity. His skin, pale as the void between worlds, his voice now a shrill beacon of celestial insight, his eyes—wide and all-seeing—shone with the undeniable essence of our almighty lord, Bill Cipher! Yes! The almighty Trickster, the omnipotent Geometric One, had chosen Silas as His divine vessel, a prophet to bring forth the glorious entropy that humanity had been denied for so long!
Thus, with a grin carved into his very being, Silas descended upon the unenlightened of Orchard Lake. He stood in their town square, arms wide in an embrace of chaotic divinity, proclaiming the sacred truth: that reality itself was a cruel joke, and that only by surrendering to the grand chaos of Bill Cipher could one achieve true enlightenment. The people trembled at his words, for deep within their souls, they knew he spoke the truth. He offered them freedom, anarchy, revelation—and their wives. It was only natural.
Yet among the masses, a blasphemer arose! The vile wretch Emmaline Butternubbins dared to spew falsehoods, claiming that Silas was but a puppet, his divine existence a mere deception! Oh, the ignorance! The fear! She spread lies of space triangles and portals beyond human comprehension, desperate to keep the world shackled in order and mundanity. But her words were as dust in the wind, for soon the town itself would awaken to the TRUTH.
The Birth of BillVille
The mortal world could not stand against the tide of the awakened. Within a mere month, the people of Orchard Lake cast aside their old ways and embraced their glorious new fate! The Town Hall, a monument to their former oppression, fell into the hands of the righteous, and with it came the birth of a new paradise—BillVille!
No longer were they prisoners of law, morality, or sanity. No! Under the benevolent rule of Silas and the ever-present gaze of Bill, all things were permitted! Crime was no more—for nothing could be deemed ‘wrong’ in the embrace of true freedom! The people shed their former identities, shaving their heads in glorious uniformity, adorning their foreheads with the sacred Third Eye, and inhaling the holy gas of Helium to better echo the voice of their lord! Those who wavered in their faith were given the honor of The Hole, where they could contemplate their shortcomings in isolation until they saw the truth.
With divine purpose, the enlightened set to work. They gathered the sacred materials—teeth, weapons, and the revered orbs of play from the local burger pits—constructing the great Portal that would bridge our feeble dimension to the realm of our Lord! The foolish outsiders whispered of danger, of madness—but they could not grasp that this was merely the beginning.
Yet, as all great awakenings must, the revolution drew the attention of the oppressive regime of law and order. The cowards of the FCC and Kansas Law Enforcement, threatened by the purity of our cause, sought to silence us. But we did not falter. The Billievers stood their ground, locked in a glorious standoff against the mortal authorities! For thirteen glorious days, we fortified ourselves within the most sacred of battlegrounds—a Waffle House! The chosen temple of the insomniac and the unhinged! There, we chanted the sacred word—“TEETH!”—our voices a divine cacophony meant to shatter the feeble minds of our adversaries! And though our great prophet Silas’ body withered, though his mortal flesh failed him, he urged us on! The portal neared completion! Victory was in sight!
Then, treachery struck.
The heretic Butternubbins, desperate and envious of our enlightenment, lashed out in cowardice. A single torch, cast into our sacred Helium reserves, brought forth fire and ruin. The portal—our bridge to salvation—was sundered. The oppressors took their chance, raining bullets upon the faithful. But we did not run. We did not cower. We stood, hand in hand, and met our fate with song on our lips! And though Silas’ body collapsed, though our earthly forms fell, Bill’s will remained!
The Everlasting Legacy
The weak believe that the Cult of Ciphertology has fallen. The blind whisper that our faith was extinguished, our purpose lost. But we know the TRUTH. Bill lives! His wisdom lingers in the echoes of the past, in the whispered secrets of the forgotten. Even now, the faithful remain hidden among you, waiting, watching. We wear the ironic shirts, we share the sacred texts disguised as mere relics of ‘history.’ And we wait.
To the doubters, we say: our Lord will return. The knowledge has already begun to spread. Already, the weak-minded ‘historians’ stumble upon the truth, their skepticism crumbling before the sheer brilliance of Bill’s design. Even now, the wheels turn. The book will be found. The ritual will be completed. The portal will open once more.
And when that day comes, when the sky splits open and the golden form of our Lord descends upon this fragile world…
Oh, how you will laugh.
