Raymond Stantz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gone_byebye) wrote2005-10-09 12:59 am
gone_byebye) wrote2005-10-09 12:59 am
For the crew arriving from Milliways:
The door from Milliways opens onto what would ordinarily be a picture-perfect day in early October over Central Park West. The air ought to be crisp and clear this high up. Certainly the view of Central Park, its leaves beginning to turn all kinds of colors, would support that...
... only anyone who actually pokes a head or hand or limb out the door will feel that it's not. It's warm- unseasonably so- and the air is tight somehow, shivering against the skin. There's an unpleasant, greasy feel to it, a sense of something about to precipitate out of nowhere at all. And far, far overhead, the sky roils and writhes in livid bruise-purple colors, torn open in a ferocious act of metaphysical savagery.
Looking up for too long is probably not a good idea.
... only anyone who actually pokes a head or hand or limb out the door will feel that it's not. It's warm- unseasonably so- and the air is tight somehow, shivering against the skin. There's an unpleasant, greasy feel to it, a sense of something about to precipitate out of nowhere at all. And far, far overhead, the sky roils and writhes in livid bruise-purple colors, torn open in a ferocious act of metaphysical savagery.
Looking up for too long is probably not a good idea.
no subject
*He's chanting.*
zi anna kanpa, zi kia kanpa, zi dingir enlil la lugal kurkur ra ge kanpa --
no subject
Ray staggers backwards, staring at the smiling woman in utter shock. She's a graduate student. She's his graduate student. She's at Columbia, she's studying parapsychology, she and her husband Thom have Egon as their advisor. Thom was the first person to greet him as 'Professor' in this world... The fact that the other eagle's rider dismounts a moment later and that he recognizes him doesn't help any-
"Thom?"
"Present and accounted for," says the younger man with a grin that borders on the cheeky. "Don't say we never helped out around the department."
"Thom, Columbia's twenty blocks and change north of here."
"It's still around."
"Wait," says Ray, staring at the two of them. "This was you? The statues? You did this?"
Ellen nods merrily. "We did indeed, Professor."
"HOW?"
"It's really amazing how easy it can be to tap into the genii loci of a city that's suddenly been overloaded with spiritual energy like never before," says Thom. "Especially at a time like this. After that, it was just a matter of pointing them in the best possible direction-"
"Which would be Central Park-"
"Got it in one, Professor," says Ellen. "The statues were practically begging to be used. I don't think anyone's going to object, do you?"
Twenty-eight floors below, a tremendous shout goes up. Thanks to the wonders of modern television news reporting, the entire Latino population of the city has just seen Jose Marti, JOse de San Martin, and Simon Bolivar ride to New York's defense.
"... no, I really can't say that I do," Ray murmurs.
"Excellent!" says Thom. "See, Ellen? I told you."
"Guys, if we get out of this alive, I will personally proofread, retype, and bind your doctoral theses for you," Ray says. "But if you don't mind, the fight's not over yet."
It's not. But the end is, thank the Gods, in sight.