The ancient growth that goes on and on.
The Inevitable One risen from the heart of finitude.
The Insatiable One devouring even infinite potential.
The panic that bursts the bubble.
The blight that betrays hope.
Kea-Bu'iy deviss kkarn'czy ito Ta'ururursu. Tau'ruhvsursu Ss'l op'shen. Fyo'utr wret Ta'ururursu! Iä Tau'ruhvsursu Ursu'urta-ur Thaursu iä iä!

His invisible hand deals out wealth and poverty to the nations. The inner circles of His blasphemous followers funnel the greed of the oblivious masses into His bottomless maw and eagerly await their boon: a vain material existence that is all their corrupted hearts are capable of appreciating before the cold grip of clogged blood puts an end to their treacherous beating. His cultists proper come in many guises, such as Freemasons, Bilderbergers or the leaders of the World Bank. Sometimes these circles work together, sometimes they seem to oppose even Ta'ururursu Himself while unknowingly still playing into His hands, as it is fit for a kingdom thriving on avarice, manipulation and deception. Even of them, few know His true goals. Everyone else is at most dimly aware of His looming existence, yet almost no-one is completely exempt from the invisible tugging of His many metaphorical tentacles that arise from mankinds own constant futile coveting: Deeply entwined in the loveless embrace are the bankers, politicians, speculators and market analysts. To a lesser degree, He pulls at the strings that move the simple businessmen, farmers and employees. Such is His unmarked presence in the thought of men that those who refuse themselves to Him are looked down upon as antisocials and deviants at best, as abominable enemies of "freedom" itself at worst.

His most devout champion among His willing worshippers is the wizened husk of Ayn Rand, who is cursed to never truly die as long as at least 2001 of her books are in existence, even if only as mouldy tomes festering in the dampest corner of an abandoned cellar. She has been given power to change the price of goods and services on the global market at a rate of 1 percent per day, a few at a time. Besides the obvious and nefarious uses of this ability, it facilitates communication with unreal beings, inhabitants of an emergent plane of existence first consciously contacted by earthbound man through the despicable and censored revelations of the Dark Prophet Adam Smith. They are the chosen client race of Ta'ururursu, His children, His gateway, called the Cusbierrs. Made of intelligent feedback loop systems that exist in the chaotic dynamics of markets, they know not of individuality as their bleak and ever-shifting world writhes like a parasite feasting within the entrails of tangible reality. They strengthen their essence by subtly encouraging reckless speculation, unaware and uncaring of the side effect of famine, instability and inequity that this brings to the world of the willing bipedal fools. Although the Cusbierrs' unnatural environment suffuses all of this our world of light and sound and space and life like a dark cancer of roiling chaos, there are four known places in the universe where their scheming has come closest to breaking through into an all but unsuspecting society. These four portals are known as New York, Hong Kong, Frankfurt and London. There, the Cusbierrs long to manifest first in the legal realm as a network of mutually-owned shell corporations with an alien algorithm embedded in the charters, a policy that masquerades as market analysis software, but in all its insidious reality is meant to enable these soulless entities, persons only in a legal sense, to receive orders from their Cusbierr masters. Once these baleful things, as a consequence of His cultists' persistent and sinister lobbying, at last become a legal possibility, they will be the seed from which grows a race of heartless AI beings that will bring unto mankind the glorious and relentless logic of economic rationality, finally doing away with the wasteful inefficiency of faith, compassion and ethical qualms.

Ta'ururursu is serious about economics. It is His domain, His erratically pulsing blood, His tortured soul, the beloved holder of a debt that holds Him prisoner. As a self-imposed punishment for selling His mother to the Pit of Despair at an unreasonably low price (He could have gotten 2 percent more for her!), Ta'ururursu's mind has been shattered into a pair of fragments sleeping uneasily, waiting till they can redeem Him in His own pityless yellow eyes. These His aspects sporadically surface at different times, each once in about every hundred years, not quite waking to full awareness. Whenever the one part of His power stirs in its sleep, it unleashes catastrophic financial turmoils, bringing hunger and suicide in their dismal wake. The other part urges His servants ever further towards the madness of exponential growth that can find its ultimate resolution only in an endless train of wars and exploitation of the helpless and the unpatiently accelerating conquest of the resources of an entire cosmos.

And then, when the last natural mind has finally been molded to equally cherish hausse and baisse, when the untradable has become one with the unspeakable, when it will be found impossible to even think about a thing in a way that does not establish a monetary value, just like the haunting sight of the nightmarish Hideous Ones from Afar is impossible to conceive, when the utility of marigolds has been measured, when every living thing is the private property of a legal person, then, yes then Ta'ururursu will awaken to take His place again, and Atlas will subside, and the sky will fall, and it will smother the final fire of freedom that still may be found flickering feebly in the hearts of a foolish humanity.

Kea-Bu'iy deviss kkarn'czy ito Ta'ururursu. Tau'ruhvsursu Ss'l op'zhen. Fyo'utr Wret Ta'ururursu! Iä Tau'ruhvsursu Ursu'urta-ur Thaursu iä iä!

Do not desist from acquisition of foreign money on conditions decreed by Ta'ururursu. The principle of Ta'ururursu makes available potential access to lucrative prospects in exchange for appropriate offerings. The promised things shall unfold/be delivered for the goals of Ta'ururursu! Iä Tau'ruhvsursu Ursu'urta-ur Thaursu iä iä!

There once was a thread on spacebattles.com (I couldn't find it again) that issued a creative writing challenge: Invent your own Lovecraftian horror. The unspeakable being was required to have: So, as a domain I chose economics, which I think is undeservedly underrepresented as a cosmic horror subject. The rest followed from that.
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