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May. 16th, 2005 10:00 amI've been passing in and out of Milliways more often now that I know Pete's got his feet under him and that I'm not going to get thrown into the wrong continuum. Okay, that's not true. I'm kind of hoping that the door will open on the animated continuum one of these days, so I keep going home at night instead of just staying here as much as I used to. So the 'x arrival at Milliways' dating system isn't going to do me much good.
It's been interesting the past few days. I've met an FBI agent who thinks he's got a case with major supernatural involvement- his name's Dale Cooper. He's good. I haven't seen his eyes glaze over once since I've started talking to him- and he was the one who initiated the conversation about paranormal subjects, which is always a good sign. You don't often meet agents of the Federal government who believe in parallel dimensions, in my admittedly limited experience. I gave him a business card. You never know- if Peck tries anything else, it can't hurt to have the Fibbies in our corner, right?
And I met, um, Puck. Like, Robin Goodfellow, kind of Puck. At least, he introduced himself as Goodfellow- I'm guessing it's the same being but you don't ask for specific names when you're dealing with the Fair Folk. He was having some trouble with the Bar and I offered him some advice and he got what he wanted and asked me what boon I would beg of him, and of course all the hair on the back of my neck stood up at that point, so I asked him for an up-to-date copy of Spates, and he got it for me and asked why I would waste a wish on a trifle. Told him I didn't know who he was (true) and that I didn't think it was that big a favor (also true) so why should I ask for anything big. This went over well. We wound up talking for a bit and while he still gives me the heebiejeebies, I'm going to chalk that up to innate survival reflexes. I mean, civilizations all over northern Europe didn't come up with laudatory euphemisms for his kind without reason, you know? He called me a very peculiar mortal, said he hoped we'd be friends, and vanished. This worries me more than Q saying I was one of the brightest humans he'd run across, but we'll see how it goes...
... holy mother of Fermi. I just looked into the Spates he got for me.
It's the size of a copy of Who's Who and What's That and it's printed on filament paper and it's twenty two thousand pages long. The print's so small that it comes with a swing-in magnifier to render it legible. I can't even turn the pages directly, they're too delicate- it has to be done with an electrical charge- this is technology out of something like Dune! What the-
- I don't even recognize the dating system being used on the copyright page! The hell? Just how long did the Catalog get published, anyway??
It's been interesting the past few days. I've met an FBI agent who thinks he's got a case with major supernatural involvement- his name's Dale Cooper. He's good. I haven't seen his eyes glaze over once since I've started talking to him- and he was the one who initiated the conversation about paranormal subjects, which is always a good sign. You don't often meet agents of the Federal government who believe in parallel dimensions, in my admittedly limited experience. I gave him a business card. You never know- if Peck tries anything else, it can't hurt to have the Fibbies in our corner, right?
And I met, um, Puck. Like, Robin Goodfellow, kind of Puck. At least, he introduced himself as Goodfellow- I'm guessing it's the same being but you don't ask for specific names when you're dealing with the Fair Folk. He was having some trouble with the Bar and I offered him some advice and he got what he wanted and asked me what boon I would beg of him, and of course all the hair on the back of my neck stood up at that point, so I asked him for an up-to-date copy of Spates, and he got it for me and asked why I would waste a wish on a trifle. Told him I didn't know who he was (true) and that I didn't think it was that big a favor (also true) so why should I ask for anything big. This went over well. We wound up talking for a bit and while he still gives me the heebiejeebies, I'm going to chalk that up to innate survival reflexes. I mean, civilizations all over northern Europe didn't come up with laudatory euphemisms for his kind without reason, you know? He called me a very peculiar mortal, said he hoped we'd be friends, and vanished. This worries me more than Q saying I was one of the brightest humans he'd run across, but we'll see how it goes...
... holy mother of Fermi. I just looked into the Spates he got for me.
It's the size of a copy of Who's Who and What's That and it's printed on filament paper and it's twenty two thousand pages long. The print's so small that it comes with a swing-in magnifier to render it legible. I can't even turn the pages directly, they're too delicate- it has to be done with an electrical charge- this is technology out of something like Dune! What the-
- I don't even recognize the dating system being used on the copyright page! The hell? Just how long did the Catalog get published, anyway??
