Thirty thousand years ago, as a hunter calmed his fatigued lungs, lying in the dew, with his eyes shooting up into the arm of the Milky Way, he proposed to himself in his mind the idea of a magical lever. If one pulls the lever, the world ends. Obviously, the one who pulls the lever also dies. The wizard who made the lever also dies. Why, then, the hunter wondered, would such a lever ever be made? The wizard’s magical potential is only limited by his own capabilities and experience, which he develops and grows every day. If and when he acquires the spells required to do something, then that thing will be done, regardless of whether it is good or bad. Even regardless of if it hurts him. Such is the nature of the wizard. Thus if the wizard eventually has the magic to make and pull the lever, the lever will be made and it will be pulled. The hunter chuckled at the queerness of his imagination and returned home to his woman and his children with that night’s supper.