Once Upon A Time There Was A King The king surveyed his lands, preoccupied. The creature had laid much to waste. Here and there a bastion stood, a storehouse of necessaries still uncorrupted by its malicious efforts, but the distributed attacks had altogether been excruciating. He could wait for third party assistance no longer; he would resolve this infection at its source: the wyrm's layer. His travels were neither efficient nor simple; it seemed that some fatal error awaited him at every fork. He was beginning to take a pessimistic approach by the time he finally entered the inhabited segment - whether it would be his completion or his execution remained to be seen. It was, without question, nondeterministic; and poised at this critical juncture, he found he lacked the resources to continue, and waited. In time, he slept. The king's environment sickened and changed, and he passed from memory; no reference could be found to him. The garbage collectors saw no trace of him. Those who set out to find him returned, unsatisfied, with one word only for their efforts, one useless bit of information: null.