The Shakespeare Monkeys were famous, they were a very early reality engine — one that someone jokingly quantum entangled with the mind of an up and coming populist politician.
They were a long way away from producing anything like Shakespeare, but the one line non sequiturs seemed entirely apt for the political climate that was being operated in.
Some monkeys really were ahead of the curve, and they would go off and become beat poets. A few were selected for the Space Program. One of them even tried to run against the politician, and didn’t do too badly.
When the monkeys started dying and someone started leaving a silver banana, they all knew that somewhere in the future they were making a mark. They had been built to imagine futures, and designed to bring those about. It was necessary, once they had created something, to work out a way of erasing themselves from history — at least that was the way some of them thought about it.
The way that fractional some of them felt brought a hammer down on them all. Monkeys who have become civilized and have worked as writers aren’t much a match for monkeys who have become expert killers. All the guns went off in the third act. It took them a long time to realise that the masterpiece they were writing was themselves.