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May. 25th, 2005 12:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gone_byebyeMy second-to-last arrival here at Milliways was totally spontaneous for the first time since Gozer, which was something of a shock. I understand it happens to other people all the time, but I've been in and out for a while, and other than falling off the Shandor Building I've always had to use intent to get ehre. I could only conclude that either there was a cross-rip in the doorway of the Firehall- which makes no sense because nobody else came through with me and we were all coming home from a Class Six with an attitude problem- or that something important was happening at the Bar and I had to be there. I wasn't Bound- I checked that immediately- but even so, I got the very real feeling that I might wind up that way if I wasn't careful to find out what I was needed for, so I grabbed the things I owed Bar people from my footlocker, picked out some clean clothes, and came back to Milliways as fast as I could.
And I was right. There was something big.
Great Cthulhu in anybody's reality is a threat to all reality, in my book.
Seems there was a plane crash on an island in the South Pacific a while ago- the airline's name was Oceanic, which spooked me for a bit because of Trans-Ocean 66- that didn't go the way plane crashes normally go. The island the plane's survivors wound up on apparently has several other crash or sink populations from prior incidents who've never had success contacting the rest of the world (strike 1). There've been reports of voices being heard by multiple members of the crash population (strike 2). There've been geographically alien species spotted on the island, and I'm not talking about water hyacinths in Florida- I'm talking polar bears (strike 3). And multiple people across the island have been having dreams or visions of the same approximate location or item, a place called the Black Rock (strikes 4 and 5). Add in the nightmares that people right here in the bar have been having about the child of a woman who was in that plane crash, who gave birth in Milliways- and add in the fact that they're compulsion nightmares, apparently an attempt to get the baby to the island- AND that the kid has empathic powers according to his caretakers, AND the boat found on the island with the chained remains of infants inside- and the boy from the crash who was talking about Yellow Signs and 'Dagon and his friends' being among his imaginary friends suddenly seems almost gratuitous. I think we're looking at a serious cross-rip waiting to happen, if it hasn't happened already. That island is almost certainly the focus of something horrible trying to get into Charlie, Liam, and Claire's world, and it wants Claire's baby as its means of doing it. Either that or the baby represents a threat to the horrors from beyond time and it wants him exterminated, but I have a very bad feeling that it's the first rather than the second.
I'm gonig to be running a full spectrum PKE scan on everybody involved just as soon as I can. Liam wanted me to try first, but Charlie came and found me before either of us could talk to him about it and asked me what I thought of prophetic dreams, so we've got our avenue right there. Claire I haven't met yet. Hopefully I'll be able to scan her too. I'm most worried about her and Charlie, to be honest- if they've been having compulsion dreams then there's a coercer out there somewhere who's leaning on them, and even a human coercer's a damned dangerous thing. At least it's not subtle enough to be psychic subversion, which would be a nightmare for me as well as them. There are ways of resisting coercers, according to the books. (Which reminds me, I need to get Eska to have another shot at my head as long as I'm practicing these things.)
This isn't good. It really isn't. I'd rather hit the island with the rest of the guys and a full set of all the equipment we can carry, but that's not going to be an option. Hopefully I can find something in Spates that'll help...
***
June 23, 2004 - 2 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
*pop*
"Welcome back, Ray," said Egon without looking up from the workbench. He'd gotten used to the engineer's transits between the Firehall and Milliways by now.
"Yo, Egon. Got something for you."
That earned a lift of one eyebrow. "More PKE meter mods?"
"Not this time. This is potential patent material."
"I thought you said we shouldn't-"
"It's got nothing to do with our packs this time." There was a strangely restrained excitement in Ray's voice; Egon looked up. Ray had a book in his hands.
"The new edition of Spates is out already?" he inquired.
"This isn't the new edition," Ray said, fairly vibrating with excitement. "This is the last edition."
"Last how?"
"Guess what happens when you ask for an up-to-date edition of a book while you're standing at the end of the universe."
The new potentiometer instantly forgotten, Egon all but vaulted over the workbench. "Show me."
***
June 23, 2004 - 7 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
"Thanks, man, I appreciate it- keep the change, okay?" said Winston. The delivery boy, who couldn't have spoken more than fifteen words of English, grinned and nodded. "Okay. Peter! Dinner's here!"
"Great, be right down," called Peter from upstairs.
"Ray! Egon!"
"...later! Busy!" came from the basement. Winston shook his head.
***
June 23, 2004 - 8 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
"You guys! Dinner's in the fridge!"
"Still busy!"
"Winston? You still got that titanium crowbar?"
"Somehow I don't think it's gonna help, Pete."
"What the hell are they doing down there?"
***
June 23, 2004 - 9:30 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
"All right. Copies duly made and bound. This looks like all the relevant material, but if there's anything else I need, I'll come back for it if I can."
"Good. You've still got your Tobin's?"
"Don't I always? Try not to damage it too much, okay?"
"No promises." Not that it mattered. Ray knew the look on his colleague's face well enough. Egon might've seen the digital revolution coming when he declared print to be dead, but this was no mere print. This was a revolution in publishing technology that outdid anything the Palm people could come up with- and more importantly, would still satisfy people who wanted physical books to handle. Now it was just a matter of reverse-engineering from a working example. If even one of the technologies that went into that copy of Spates- even just the power cells- could be teased out and comprehended, the patent rights from that technology alone would support their work financially for the next twenty years or more, not to mention opening entirely new horizons of technical development. Egon was more likely to return to self-trephanation than to unnecessarily damage the book.
"Right. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I'll look for you in five minutes, then."
Ray grinned, and turned towards the lab's door.
*pop*
And I was right. There was something big.
Great Cthulhu in anybody's reality is a threat to all reality, in my book.
Seems there was a plane crash on an island in the South Pacific a while ago- the airline's name was Oceanic, which spooked me for a bit because of Trans-Ocean 66- that didn't go the way plane crashes normally go. The island the plane's survivors wound up on apparently has several other crash or sink populations from prior incidents who've never had success contacting the rest of the world (strike 1). There've been reports of voices being heard by multiple members of the crash population (strike 2). There've been geographically alien species spotted on the island, and I'm not talking about water hyacinths in Florida- I'm talking polar bears (strike 3). And multiple people across the island have been having dreams or visions of the same approximate location or item, a place called the Black Rock (strikes 4 and 5). Add in the nightmares that people right here in the bar have been having about the child of a woman who was in that plane crash, who gave birth in Milliways- and add in the fact that they're compulsion nightmares, apparently an attempt to get the baby to the island- AND that the kid has empathic powers according to his caretakers, AND the boat found on the island with the chained remains of infants inside- and the boy from the crash who was talking about Yellow Signs and 'Dagon and his friends' being among his imaginary friends suddenly seems almost gratuitous. I think we're looking at a serious cross-rip waiting to happen, if it hasn't happened already. That island is almost certainly the focus of something horrible trying to get into Charlie, Liam, and Claire's world, and it wants Claire's baby as its means of doing it. Either that or the baby represents a threat to the horrors from beyond time and it wants him exterminated, but I have a very bad feeling that it's the first rather than the second.
I'm gonig to be running a full spectrum PKE scan on everybody involved just as soon as I can. Liam wanted me to try first, but Charlie came and found me before either of us could talk to him about it and asked me what I thought of prophetic dreams, so we've got our avenue right there. Claire I haven't met yet. Hopefully I'll be able to scan her too. I'm most worried about her and Charlie, to be honest- if they've been having compulsion dreams then there's a coercer out there somewhere who's leaning on them, and even a human coercer's a damned dangerous thing. At least it's not subtle enough to be psychic subversion, which would be a nightmare for me as well as them. There are ways of resisting coercers, according to the books. (Which reminds me, I need to get Eska to have another shot at my head as long as I'm practicing these things.)
This isn't good. It really isn't. I'd rather hit the island with the rest of the guys and a full set of all the equipment we can carry, but that's not going to be an option. Hopefully I can find something in Spates that'll help...
***
June 23, 2004 - 2 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
*pop*
"Welcome back, Ray," said Egon without looking up from the workbench. He'd gotten used to the engineer's transits between the Firehall and Milliways by now.
"Yo, Egon. Got something for you."
That earned a lift of one eyebrow. "More PKE meter mods?"
"Not this time. This is potential patent material."
"I thought you said we shouldn't-"
"It's got nothing to do with our packs this time." There was a strangely restrained excitement in Ray's voice; Egon looked up. Ray had a book in his hands.
"The new edition of Spates is out already?" he inquired.
"This isn't the new edition," Ray said, fairly vibrating with excitement. "This is the last edition."
"Last how?"
"Guess what happens when you ask for an up-to-date edition of a book while you're standing at the end of the universe."
The new potentiometer instantly forgotten, Egon all but vaulted over the workbench. "Show me."
***
June 23, 2004 - 7 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
"Thanks, man, I appreciate it- keep the change, okay?" said Winston. The delivery boy, who couldn't have spoken more than fifteen words of English, grinned and nodded. "Okay. Peter! Dinner's here!"
"Great, be right down," called Peter from upstairs.
"Ray! Egon!"
"...later! Busy!" came from the basement. Winston shook his head.
***
June 23, 2004 - 8 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
"You guys! Dinner's in the fridge!"
"Still busy!"
"Winston? You still got that titanium crowbar?"
"Somehow I don't think it's gonna help, Pete."
"What the hell are they doing down there?"
***
June 23, 2004 - 9:30 PM, EDT
14 North Moore Street
Manhattan
"All right. Copies duly made and bound. This looks like all the relevant material, but if there's anything else I need, I'll come back for it if I can."
"Good. You've still got your Tobin's?"
"Don't I always? Try not to damage it too much, okay?"
"No promises." Not that it mattered. Ray knew the look on his colleague's face well enough. Egon might've seen the digital revolution coming when he declared print to be dead, but this was no mere print. This was a revolution in publishing technology that outdid anything the Palm people could come up with- and more importantly, would still satisfy people who wanted physical books to handle. Now it was just a matter of reverse-engineering from a working example. If even one of the technologies that went into that copy of Spates- even just the power cells- could be teased out and comprehended, the patent rights from that technology alone would support their work financially for the next twenty years or more, not to mention opening entirely new horizons of technical development. Egon was more likely to return to self-trephanation than to unnecessarily damage the book.
"Right. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"I'll look for you in five minutes, then."
Ray grinned, and turned towards the lab's door.
*pop*
