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King of the Hill


Gojira

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???

My external reflectivity prevents any lasers from entering my universe-body, and altering the size of things around me is no concern to my scalar field manipulation powers.

I'm not quite sure what you mean by "expand via death lasers" either- explode into expanding debris clouds? Those also pose no difficulties when you can vary the gravitational constant/speed of light/fundamental charge constant/strong and weak nuclear force constants at any given zone in space. :P

But sure, you can have a cloud of hot debris.

Your cloud of hot debris.

I shall be over there, mixing up a batch of metallic hydrogen.

My metallic hydrogen, of course.

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I have no idea what you guys are doing over there in that gigantic cloud of expanding ionized gases, but the hill is over here.

And it is as the hill should be, grassy and green with a few small trees and pockmarked by the craters of the never ending war.

So I'll just have a seat in a lawnchair atop the hill, just like I used to.

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Before the Novikov self-consistency principle notices what I'm doing and shuts me down, I displace one of the hillverse's hills onto the surface of a barren planet somewhere in the GreeningUniverse. The hillverse hill immediately starts undergoing binary fission, replicating itself and covering the formerly-flat surface of the planet in hills in a matter of hours.

In thaumatic backlash for my clear violation of physics/logic, the planet's tenuous atmosphere turns to elemental mercury and settles around the bases of the hills.

My Land of Hills and Quicksilver.

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A tremendous explosion takes place, equivalent to the big bang.

7 billion years later, the hill is again pristine and natural, grassy with craters and a few small trees.

This time instead of merely a flagpole, it has a sign on top.

"The hill must stay grassy and natural, no more universe altering please."

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I drop the coefficient of the strong nuclear force within the sign and its post until they violently disintegrate into hydrogen gas and neutron radiation, which I trap and direct up and away from the hill.

The hill remains grassy and natural, despite the fact that a humanoid universe just altered a small part of a bigger, amorphous universe on top of it.

My grassy, natural hill.

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I resize myself back into my normal teen size and tell the children all about Nuclear Salt Water Rocket propulsion, which causes them to run in terror back to their mommies and cry about the scary story the creepy gray lady in the black dress told them. The juice is absorbed by the ground and causes the grass to become even more lush, and that which touches me becomes intergalactic ice-dust in the GreeningUniverse.

My juice-fertilized hill.

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The robots fail to make hills or to go back in time. On the first count, the gravity in your former-hillverse is too strong for rock to act any more solid than honey, and even the best robots can't build hills out of honey. The best you can do is tiny, millimeter-high rock droplets that look vaguely hill-like. Could be good enough, I suppose.

On the second count, the Novikov self-consistency principle stops you from creating a paradox, because paradoxes are impossible.

Meanwhile, I still have a hill.

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