While the grand expanse of potential fiction was as yet only barely explored, Rufus considered that the architecture in which that world existed, and by which that world grew, had been large static for the past however many Copyrights.

Rufus eyed his URL bar. Sequel.

The sequel was the archetype of the Ficlyverse, to be sure. Oh, there were New stories, unattached to anything, fledgling quantum pairs fizzling out of the vacuum with the hope of gravitating some more fiction. Some flourished, gaining in views, then comments, receiving ratings until finally they spawned a sequel. Without the sequel, they would have been lost to their author’s history; with the sequel, their life was renewed, prolonged, filled with hope and promise.

There were also Challenges, stars in the darkness about which the fiction would swell and form and spin, generating New Ficlys out of the nether.

And finally were the Prequels, tachyons of the Ficlyverse.

Rufus had typed all three into the URL bar. Enter. He wrote. Submit.