I like to imagine a lever.
The lever is connected to a spigot. From the spigot flows cash money. I am one of few entitled to collect from this spigot. Before I can pull that lever, I must pull three other levers. Each of those levers is connected to two pulleys, which raise a total of six buckets, each holding the egg of a different extinct bird. The eggs must be brought to five monarchs, who tell me exactly one true thing immediately before dying with no heirs apparent.
The sixth egg goes to the Moon.
The five true things are whispered into the ear of the Secretariat Administratum. She gives me a form to fill out. The paper of the form is woven from the fine hair which grows on the underbelly of the Malefisteed, harvested at great cost by the Maleficarum; the paper accepts only ink placed with utmost sincerity. There is only one question on the form:
What can change the nature of a man?
I sit on the frozen peak where the Administratum sees fit to operate and begin to contemplate my answer.