☦Eldricht masters of probability. SCP-1855.☦
Before time, a group of construction workers found a space in the infinite nether and decided that one day, a teenage human should need to drive through that point on his way to a new home, and that he should take some extra time to get there, and that certain trees should provide shade and that some of them shouldn't, and that on his way he should be a little hungry.
So they laid the groundwork.
In order to do this they would need dinosaurs and giant flaming balls of gas.
Construction went very according to plan, with the mammals eating the dinosaur's eggs and a politician being shot in the head in his convertible.
They waited a few years and shared cans of watery beer up until this punk turned a corner on a shaded Louisianna backroad. One of them sat in anticipation with a walkie-talkie, and a bag of fun sized Snickers. Their foreheads were coated in sweat as the human puttered closer to his truck. He drew closer, slower, because there were construction signs and the worker was blocking the way.
The human took off his helmet and pulled up to the worker's window.
"Hey, can I go through here? The signs say do not pass. I don't know what that means." said the human.
"Uh, yeah," the worker responded, mouth half full of chocolate, "just follow the pilot car up ahead."
"Hey thanks!" he said, and began to put his helmet back on.
"Wait a minute there, you hungry? I got some Fritos that I'm not gonna eat."
The human looked at the worker, puzzled. "No, not really. I'm not really hungry."
The worker grimaced, and looked away on down the road.
This universe would stretch on in infinite wrongness, its denizens completely unaware how wrong they all were. Of course a few aesthetes would jump off of some bridges due to some sort of implacable existential crisis, but I digress.
The workers held a meeting in an abandoned Wal Mart 3,000 years after they learned that their construction wasn't up to code. The fat man shaped creatures sat in the mucus coated inventory room on ladders and stacked pallets.
"Probability is hard to master," the fattest of them said in a lazy croak "but not impossible. We know that."
Some of them shuffled in their seats, and many cigarettes were lit.
"This universe is wrong, and that is sad. Outside you'll see octopus slime monsters funneling through that big hole in the ground, doing things to the human populace. That ain't right. That's wrong actually. That is not a thing that should happen."
Everyone muttered in agreement.
"But we're not gonna sit around crying about it, or blame anyone, not even Steve. We freeze this world and move on."
They sat in silence for some time, ignoring the weird squishes and screams coming from outside.
"I'll do the honors."
The fattest one opened the loading garage and stepped outside onto the pavement.
"An infinite number of possibilities stretch out around us in every moment," he croaked loudly as he stepped a few meters in front of a human and its monstrous pursuer. "…and it's your job to know what happens at least one hundred million steps ahead."
"Oh my god please help me!" the man screamed as he neared the worker. "Help!" he screamed at the unmoving, bored looking man creature. The worker stepped aside as the human approached, and, a few moments before the human passed him, he extended his foot. The human tripped and the slime monster closed the distance.
"Oh god why! No!" the human screamed as the monster… well.
The group of workers applauded quietly as the fattest turned his back to the vulgar scene behind him, and made his way back to the garage.
"This is how it's done. In a few million years this world, led by the hybrid sextuplepus necromancers, will be frozen permanently by your typical stasis anomaly, and we will be transported to a blank dimension. We'll go from there."
They waited a few years and a human turned a corner on a Louisiana back road on a scooter.
The human was starving, and had been driving for about five hours. He saw that there was a gas station a few miles ahead on his GPS, and decided to drive past the construction workers and the pilot car that was supposed to lead him through.
"Hey buddy, slow down!" the worker screamed as the human flew past him on the old road. But he didn't slow down, and one thousand years later shadow people would be eating human hearts, and the resistance would create a device designed to destroy them all in one fell swoop, and it would backfire horribly.