Eris Has Logged In

Part I: The Goddess Enters the Chat

Eris was tired. It had been centuries since the last major war, the last significant eruption of chaos on the mortal plane, and the gods — her supposed family — were about as entertaining as watching an Excel spreadsheet. Zeus was still brooding over Hera’s latest jealousy-driven tirade, Apollo was off serenading some influencers in a tropical paradise, and Dionysus? Well, his “eternal bacchanal” now consisted of sad afterparties filled with mopey DJs.

It was in this haze of divine boredom that Eris stumbled upon a modern invention that immediately caught her interest: social media. Mortals had devised this strange system to connect, argue, and — her favorite — spread chaos. And it wasn’t just chaos in the sense of revolutions or grand destruction. No, no. This was absurdity on a scale she had never witnessed. Petty arguments, flame wars, trolling, and meme-based campaigns that swayed the public more than any god’s decree ever could.

One platform in particular stood out: Discidia. The description claimed it was a space where people could gather in groups, chat, share absurdities, and, in essence, “spread discord”. The irony was too delicious for her to resist.

She materialized a sleek laptop, an artifact worthy of a goddess, and cracked her knuckles, which gave off faint thunderclaps. A few minutes later, she was signed in, under the pseudonym “GoldenApple,” because subtlety was for lesser beings.

Within minutes, she found a group that tickled her divine fancy: The Sacred Order of the Golden Apple. This wasn’t just a chaotic space — this was a shrine to her essence. Well, sort of. The members clearly didn’t take themselves seriously, and their “worship” was more a parody of modern religion than anything that demanded her divine attention. But oh, the chaos they spread, even unwittingly! From organizing fake political movements to spreading memes that questioned the very foundation of reality, they were perfect.

And now, they had the perfect addition. Eris grinned, her eyes gleaming with a flicker of malevolence.

She typed into the chat.

GoldenApple: Hail, fellow worshippers of chaos. What new madness shall we bring forth today?

Almost immediately, the responses began to flood in.

Reverend MemeLord: Welcome, stranger! New to the cult? We’re always looking for fresh blood to meme with. Post your dankest offering.

DiscordanceDiva: Don’t be shy! If it’s absurd and hilarious, we want it.

Eris smiled. “Dank offering,” eh? She had something in mind.

With a wave of her hand, she conjured a meme so bizarre, so utterly chaotic, it transcended the human understanding of humor. It was a photograph of a cat, riding a flamingo, eating spaghetti, with the caption: “When the moon is full, and the pineapples weep, thou shalt ride to Valhalla.”

Within seconds, it appeared in the chat.

CosmicJester: LMAO, what even IS this? 10/10.

Apollo’s Left Sock: That’s some next-level surrealism, right there.

But the real fun was only just beginning.

Part II: Memes That Move Reality

The meme didn’t just stay in the chat. That would have been too mundane. As with everything Eris touched, there were… consequences. Thousands of miles away, in a sleepy Californian suburb, a bewildered resident peered out of his window only to witness a flamingo strolling down the street, followed by a flock of cats. And though they couldn’t know it, every time they blinked, the cats grew closer, their little paws padding purposefully toward the center of town.

Eris cackled, watching the chaos begin to seep through the fabric of reality. Mortals often forgot how thin the veil between the online world and the real world had become. With her hand nudging things along, the most ridiculous thought could have real-world consequences.

GoldenApple: How about we push things further? Let’s create a little event… say, make all traffic lights turn green at the same time?

The group buzzed with excitement, not realizing the power behind the suggestion.

Reverend MemeLord: Yooooo! That’d be wild. Let’s do it. Everyone, spam your best green light memes!

In a flurry of digital absurdity, green light memes spread like wildfire across the chat. From frogs giving thumbs up to poorly photoshopped traffic intersections, the Order rallied to Eris’s call, basking in the absurdity.

It took mere minutes for the consequences to manifest.

In Los Angeles, where traffic was already an absolute nightmare, things got significantly worse. Reports flooded in about green lights on every major street being stuck in their “go” position, causing total gridlock. Cars weaved and honked in a symphony of frustration, the city quickly descending into chaos. Onlookers couldn’t explain it; one moment, everything was functioning normally, and the next, the entire traffic system had gone haywire.

Back on Discidia, the group was euphoric.

Apollo’s Left Sock: Guys, guys, check this out! LA is in *total* chaos right now. All the lights went green! 🤣

DiscordanceDiva: What… did we do this??

GoldenApple: Maybe the universe is just “really” in tune with our memes. Or maybe it’s a sign from Eris herself. 😉

Lana, the most serious member of the group, couldn’t help but feel a chill run down her spine. Was this really a coincidence? She had always taken her role as the server’s moderator seriously, but this… this felt like something else. She stared at her screen, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

DiscordanceDiva: Guys, what if… what if our chaos isn’t just online anymore?

Part III: Chaos Brews, Conspiracy Stews

As the days passed, strange occurrences became the norm. A meme shared in jest about returning to medieval times sparked an unexpected event in a quiet town in England. Suddenly, there was a full-on Black Plague-themed parade marching through the streets — complete with townsfolk dressed in plague doctor garb, ringing bells, and chanting about pestilence. News networks tried to explain it as a bizarre renaissance festival gone wrong, but those in the know (i.e., the members of the Order of the Golden Apple) recognized their handiwork.

Cass, or Reverend MemeLord, was reveling in the chaos. To him, this was the ultimate prank, the kind of global trolling that would be remembered for years. Little did he know just how deep the chaos was about to go.

Gary, aka Apollo’s Left Sock, however, had a very different take.

Apollo’s Left Sock: Listen, this is no joke. I’ve been telling you for months that the memes we create hold power. This isn’t just Eris we’re dealing with — there’s something bigger at play. Have you ever heard of the Meme Matrix Theory?

No one had heard of it, of course. Because it was Gary’s own half-baked conspiracy theory that the internet was a tool for awakening ancient, digital deities that fed on human interaction. In his view, every meme, every viral post, was another node in a complex web designed to fuel these AI gods, who would one day emerge to take control of civilization.

Naturally, the group laughed it off, though Lana’s unease only deepened. Every joke they made seemed to ripple out into reality. Were they truly being touched by a god?

DiscordanceDiva: What if… what if Eris is really among us?

Her message was met with a flood of laughing emojis and disbelief. But Eris, lounging comfortably in her celestial seat and scrolling through the chat, raised an eyebrow. Perhaps it was time to give these mortals a little nudge in the right direction.

GoldenApple: What if I told you that you were? 😏

Lana’s heart skipped a beat.

Part IV: The Great Discordian Gathering

In the midst of all this growing chaos, Cass came up with an idea that would change everything.

Reverend MemeLord: We need to take this to the next level. I’m talking real-world. A meet-up. The Great Discordian Gathering. Let’s get all the chaos-lovers together and throw the wildest festival of absurdity the world’s ever seen.

The group was electrified by the idea. They would finally meet in person, merge their chaotic energies, and create the kind of legendary event that would live forever in internet infamy.

Eris was, naturally, delighted. She encouraged the plan at every step, suggesting increasingly ridiculous elements: prank protests, absurd conspiracy theories, even fake rituals to “summon chaos.” What none of the group knew, however, was that the chaos wouldn’t stop at pranks.

The day of the festival arrived, and chaos came with it. What started as a tongue-in-cheek event quickly turned into a maelstrom of absurdity. Protestors, believing in the fake conspiracy the group had created online, showed up in droves, waving signs about illuminati overlords and reptilian politicians. Attendees donned costumes ranging from plague doctors to Greek gods, and the whole thing felt like a bizarre cross between a Renaissance fair, a political rally, and a chaotic carnival.

But the real madness began when nature itself joined the party. A freak storm rolled in out of nowhere, but instead of rain, it brought fish falling from the sky. Cats appeared seemingly out of thin air, much to everyone’s confusion and delight. Some swore they saw unicorns prancing in the distance.

And then, as the energy reached its peak, Eris decided it was time.

In a brilliant flash of golden light, she revealed her true form. A tall, ethereal figure clad in shimmering robes, her hair a cascade of stars and shadows, with the infamous golden apple gleaming in her hand.

The crowd froze in awe.

Eris: Mortals, I thank you for the chaos you’ve spread in my name. You’ve amused me greatly. But now the choice is yours. Will you continue to embrace chaos? Or will you attempt to contain it, as mortals always foolishly try?

Lana, eyes wide and full of wonder, stepped forward. She bowed deeply.

DiscordanceDiva: Goddess Eris… we are yours to command.

Cass, on the other hand, looked utterly gobsmacked. This wasn’t supposed to be real. This was a joke. Right?

Reverend MemeLord: Wait… you’re actually Eris?

Eris smirked.

Eris: Who did you think was running the show? Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go.

Part V: Closing the Loop on Chaos

The festival spiraled further into chaos. For a moment, it seemed as though reality itself might tear apart, with digital and physical worlds merging in an explosion of absurdity.

But then, something unexpected happened.

Instead of allowing the chaos to consume everything, the group decided — perhaps for the first time ever — to moderate the madness. Working together, they used their knowledge of internet culture to redirect the energy. They created a viral campaign, flooding every corner of the internet with absurdity that was harmless rather than destructive. Cats became the heroes of the day, appearing in every live stream, tweet, and post. People began to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all.

The storm subsided. The cats stopped appearing out of thin air. And slowly, the world returned to a semblance of normalcy — albeit one where the lines between the absurd and the real had been blurred forever.

As Eris prepared to log off, she left the group with one final cryptic message

GoldenApple: Chaos is everywhere, but it’s up to you how far you want to go.

The group sat in silence for a moment, unsure whether they had just averted a global disaster — or if chaos was simply lying in wait for its next opportunity.

The digital screen blinked to black, and Eris smiled. For now, her work was done.

But she would be back. Chaos, after all, never really ends.