Wilson groans. "I never had to deal with anything supernatural back on Earth. Things were governed by observable, explainable forces, not magic and destiny."

This is significantly less true than Wilson thinks it is. Magic is within closer reach in the Constant, it's true. Anyone with the right materials and a workstation with a silly name could fill their pockets with magic staves and amulets. But there are enterprising individuals who found ways to harness it from Earth, mysterious phenomena that defied the laws of nature, portals that let Them cross between worlds. Some of his fellow survivors could even have told him about it, if he'd been willing to listen.

The thought that he might have been steered to the Nightmare Throne by forces greater than either of them instead of earning his Pyrrhic victory rankles. Wilson knows he wasn't the only survivor who tried; Wendy made it halfway into the gauntlet, WX-78 almost reached the end before being torn apart by spiders, a few others at least tried out the portal. The idea of a world where things went differently and he's just another survivor to Maxwell because someone else was the one to free him also bothers Wilson, for some reason he can't put his finger on.

"Never mind. What was that about cups?"