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singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora
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OSOAWEEK--ISSUE 006--9/1/94
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(Cup OWis006, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999)

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[[BEGIN006OW]]



[[01006MH]] OsoaWeek006, September 1, 1994

Published by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement. Contact via e-mail at obliviana@aol.com, via voice at 1-800-OBLIVIANA, or via snailmail at 37 Gill Lane, Suite 119, Iselin, NJ 08830, USA. On America Online, contact via "Obliviana".

Copyright 1994 by Frank Edward Nora. Permission is granted to make complete, verbatim electronic copies of this ezine for the purpose of free distribution. All other forms of reproduction are forbidden without express written permission from Frank Edward Nora. This file should contain approximately 64814 characters and 1759 lines. OsoaWeek originates in the United States of America.

Statement of Purpose: OsoaWeek is the weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement (Osoa), an innovative and far-reaching game with an eye on the future.

See the Appendix at the end of this file for a clear explanation of what Osoa is all about. And check out the Sneak Preview below (after Contents) for an overview of what's inside this issue!

*OW*



[[02006CN]] Contents of OsoaWeek006

BEGIN
01 006 MH--Masthead
02 006 CN--Contents
03 006 SP--Sneak Preview
04 006 LO--Lord of Obliviana Revelry
05 006 EM--Your E-Mail is Gonna Come
06 006 NH--Nihilistica
07 006 CO--Catalog of Obliviana
* * *
08 006 SO--The State of Osoa
* * *
09 006 HR--Hemisinister Review
10 006 HT--Halfevil Times
11 006 SU--Superior
12 006 SR--Severe Repair
13 006 AX--Appendix
END

Unless otherwise noted, all contents are by Frank Edward Nora. See Appendix for more information on the Contents, codes, and searching.

*OW*



[[03006SP]] Sneak Preview of OsoaWeek006


Well whattaya know! Another fantabulous issue of OsoaWeek has arrived for your reading pleasure! And for all you kids going back to school this week, take a hearty dose of Obliviana and you'll be like spaced out man and not care that you're back in goddam school for another year. And for all of us adults who no longer have to go to school, let's have a good laugh at all these kids! Well, until we have to go off to work in the morning, that is.

Lord of Obliviana Revelry (04006LO) is just another day for our weary Lord. Most all of his previous publications have self-destructed before issue 6, so you can understand why he's so flustered today!

Your E-Mail is Gonna Come (05006EM) brings you a real, real, real, real, real letter. A true piece of actual e-mail from a real actual person. And as if that's not enough, the Lord of Obliviana actually responds to it! Thrilling, eh?

Nihilistica (06006NH) proposes a cool publication, called "OsoaWeek Quarterly Output", which would collect 13 issues of OsoaWeek every 3 months in a physically-printed form. Also, check out the perturbing "4 Disks and 4 Woodflooras".

Catalog of Obliviana (07006CO) offers you a lot of cool stuff to buy! You can't hold this issue of OsoaWeek in your hands, but you can sure hold an Obliviana Artifact in your hands! Order today, heck, ORDER NOW!

The State of Osoa (08006SO)--you know that Obliviana is a place, but where the heck is it? Find out in this scintillating piece of rad authorhood!

Hemisinister Review (09006HR) reviews all sorts of stuff, all the time! This time, check out how movies like "Natural Born Killers" and "Barcelona" rate against other movies from the recent past.

Halfevil Times (10006HT)--more of those darn Perceptions & Ponderings this time, such as "Ever wonder if nuking Japan a few more times will finally get them to change their trade policy toward the U.S.?" and "Ever notice that police car lights get funkier and funkier every year?" Great stuff.

Superior (11006SU) takes you on a tour of the bizarre, beginning at "Aside, low maker of flimsia!", on to "Free in a clearing were bolt haven the corner mazen.", zooming by "Chomp into poison chair, nails horns in solids above." and colliding with "You'll be happy at four million o'clock on October 412th, 1973." at the end. Bogus!

Severe Repair (12006SR)--this time check out "You're a Good Man for Crying on the Job", where newlywed Sleap Drassy makes a horrible discovery. Also, Tanner and Fluffy go on a wild car chase when Little Fisher gets kidnapped by extremists. Awesome sci-fi fun for the whole gang!

Appendix (13006AX)--gimme some information, dammit! If this sounds like you, you need to check out the Appendix, to find out what the hell is going on, don't you know.


*OW*



[[04006LO]] Lord of Obliviana Revelry

Okay, so almost all of my publications fell apart before they reached a sixth issue. And yeah, I'm having a hard time getting this issue done. It sort of feels like the whole thing is falling apart. But hey, it's just a feeling. But it's the same feeling that destroyed all those other publications. Why is OsoaWeek different? Because it's DIGITAL!

Anyway, I have been having some difficulty with this issue, and a number of features have been left out this time, but OsoaWeek is still well over 50K in size, and that's just fine.

Anyway, one other problem I've always had (besides getting past issue six) is defining what exactly it is that I'm doing; defining Obliviana. But now I think I've done it, with the concept "Obliviana is a place". See, the idea of Osoa is to get to Obliviana. That's the central goal. That's the reason I'm doing it. I want to get to Obliviana. Check out The State of Osoa, below, for details.

Now people, I want you all to know that you can freely distribute issues of OsoaWeek (as detailed in the Masthead). So please, upload OsoaWeek to places where you think folks will like it! It's a great free source of stimulation and information!

So let me wrap this issue up. I can't believe it--issue six is nearly done! I guess the next real hurdle will be getting to end of the first quarter with issue thirteen! I hope you're still with us when we get there!

Get all Obliviana!

*OW*



[[05006EM]] Your E-Mail is Gonna Come


Dear Lord of 'O:

This is John, again. I finally got a chance to read OSOAWEEK.003. (I'll catch up on later issues as soon as the Warden is done with them) Much to my delight, smack dab in there was my original letter to you! I was really flattered. I really appreciate your delineating the difference between a "zine" and an "ezine". I sincerely had no idea whatsoever what, if any, distinctions there were. Perhaps in a later issue you can explore the differences between a "zine" an "ezine" a "magazine" and a "thorazine" ?

I'm still at the low end of the learning curve when it comes to fully absorbing all of your Osoa wisdom (I hope I haven't made another faux pas!), but you can consider me a fan. Well, I can see by the clock on the wall that it's time for me, to once again, make the Salsa. Did I mention in my last letter that I have virulent food allergies? It's true, I can only manage to digest and metabolize my own homemade Salsa. Consequently I need to make a lot of it (about 37 lbs. per day). Anyway, arroz con pollo, senor!

With sincere condomolation,
John (again)

P.S. Do you know a good place in the Tri-State area for chili's?


* * *


Dear John,

Thanks for your e-mail! It really wasn't such a hard decision to print your first letter, since it was the only one we had at that point. Kind of like this letter.

Now, by "Warden" do you mean a friend of yours named Warden, or like, y'know, like one of those guys, one of those jail guys, like the president of the prison, y'know that kind of guy? ARE YOU IN JAIL OR WHAT?

Anyway, there really IS a distinction between zines and ezines. While both are generally produced by individuals or small organizations on shoestring budgets, it's production quality which sets them apart. Zines are usually photocopied or printed, and as such, almost always suffer from a clearly inferior level of production compared with professional magazines. Ezines, on the other hand, usually in ASCII format, have no clear quality difference from, say, an ASCII issue of Time Magazine.

Another difference is distribution. Zines are sold primarily through the mail by the publishers themselves, with a tiny number of specialty stores also stocking a small amount. In contrast, ezines are distributed over the Internet and various online services and BBS's; millions of copies of an ezine could be made without any additional expense to the ezine publisher.

So you see, there are a great number of differences between zines and ezines. A Thorazine, by the way, is a magazine for thunder gods with big hammers.

I was quite interested to hear about your virulent food allergies. I know if I could only choose one food to eat for the rest of my life, it'd be salsa! But the whole 37 lb. thing kind of blows holes in your assertions, I mean, you actually EAT 37 lbs. of salsa a day?

"Condomolation" is not in American Heritage, and therefore, I must assume it is a fake word, and I say, bully for you! Fake words are quite acceptable here in the wide world of Obliviana.

And by "chili's" do you mean the restaurant chain "Chili's"? If so, how're you gonna get there from jail? Oh I don't know. These real letters are so confusing. Maybe I'll just go back to that non-existent Benny guy.

Nah.

*OW*



[[06006NH]] Nihilistica


***OSOAWEEK QUARTERLY OUTPUT***

Imagine thirteen issues of OsoaWeek physically printed in a single publication that you can hold in your hands! That's the idea behind "OsoaWeek Quarterly Output" (working name), which would be released every three months or so, for the benefit of those without computers!

Each issue of the Quarterly Output would present features with all thirteen issues worth of material together. So, for example, all Superiors would be in one place, all Nihilisticas would be together, and so on.

In terms of data, each issue would be from 650K to 1300K, and would be released in ASCII form as well. As far as format, I'm considering tabloid (like a newspaper), or something else, depending upon an number of factors.

The 13th issue of OsoaWeek will be released on October 20, 1994, so I'll have to see how things are going then to make the final decision, but I hope OsoaWeek Quarterly Output will see the light of day! It'll be so cool, man.


***4 DISKS AND 4 WOODFLOORAS***

[1] Ampule Disk
[2] Diode Amy Disk
[3] Famm Woodfloora
[4] Corma Disk
[5] Listen A. Woodfloora
[6] Mystery Xepzo Woodfloora
[7] Opo Woodfloora
[8] Farming Disk

*OW*



[[07006CO]] Catalog of Obliviana

With more and more of your life switching over to digital, isn't it nice to be able to obtain something unique to the physical world? That's what Obliviana Artifacts are all about! Each one is signed, numbered, stamped, and very limited! So for the best in non-digital thrills, order often from the mighty Catalog of Obliviana!

You can always call 1-800-OBLIVIANA to check out how many of a given Artifact are left, and also reserve an item. Your Artifact will be held for 5 business days, awaiting your order. I keep two of everything, so the initial amount available is at least two less than the total.

To order, send check or money order made out to Frank Edward Nora, or cash (at your own risk), to the address in the Masthead. All prices include postage and handling. Guarantee: Return any Artifact within 30 days of receiving it for a full refund.

MINIATURE SUPER OBJECT 1: NON-THORIUM ANTENNA
This is a strange little Super Object I developed some time ago as an incentive item to get you to order one of my former magazines. I got no orders, though. Now, there are 40 Non-Thorium Antennas, complete with tiny plastic container and title card. 30 left. OA001. Only $3 each!

PERFECT FOVY
Fovy was a publication I released fortnightly for five issues last Autumn. Each issue is on one folded-up 11 x 17 sheet of paper, with an awesome 8-Codingseed poster on one side and cool stuff on the other, including two Zope comics per issue! A wonderful collection, bound with a paper band, and only 26 made. 24 left. OA002. Yours for $5!

PELTER CD-ROM
This is an actual CD-ROM I had pressed over a year ago, and it contains 256 of the coolest clip textures you ever saw! Being for the Macintosh, each image is a 512 pixel by 512 pixel 32-bit color image. As well, each image comes in 6 varieties! These are 32-bit, 8-bit, grayscale, tiled 32-bit, tiled 8-bit, and tiled grayscale. This product never saw commercial release because, (a) I blew all my money just producing it, and (b) I'm too lazy and wary to have anyone else produce it. So! A great bargain, with only 40 copies available. Includes the original color-photocopied cover, and a brand new insert with updated information. Requires Macintosh computer with CD-ROM drive. 38 left. OA003. Only $30 each!

OSOAWEEK001 HARD COPY VERSION ONE
The entire text of OsoaWeek001 output on four legal-size sheets of paper. Only ten copies were made, and it will have some different design elements in the next imprint. The "OsoaWeek" logo is different from the official one. There are only 1 left, so call before ordering! OA004 (note: this code is not printed on the Artifact itself). $2 each. Ultra rare!

READ THIS OR DIE!
An awesome collection of Zope comics spanning eight years! Contains twenty sheets of colored paper, with 40 Zope comics in all! Included are "Zope's Resin Conundrum", "Zope's Little Puppet", "Doctor Zope and the Abdomen Ghoul", and loads more! Each set not only has the usual signature, stamp, and number--but an original drawing of Zope as well! All bound together with a big binder clip. A very raw artifact! 20 made, 10 left. OA005. $4 each.

*OW*



[[08006SO]] The State of Osoa


Obliviana is a place.

And the goal of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement is getting to that place.

It can be done.


That was the entire State of Obliviana last issue. It stated the core concept in Osoa very succinctly, but gave no details, and possibly left folks a tad confused. So right here and now, I'll explain just what I mean by the phrase "Obliviana is a place."

You see, Obliviana is a part of our world. Not an alternate reality, not a parallel dimension, not a higher plane, not of the imagination. And it can be gotten to through conventional means, if not conventional methods.

Obliviana is around every corner as you go through the day. And you can feel it sometimes, in the dark, in the park, in the breezes, in the quiet nightplaces, in rest.

So Obliviana is a physical place which is part of the world we live in. It's just extremely hidden.

Now I know what you might be thinking now. It must be out in the woods, in the desert, the wilderness, on an uncharted island, underground, or wherever. But this is not the case. It coexists all over the place. But if you look at a map, Obliviana won't be there. Maps are wrong.

Now, I know it's a pretty big leap of faith to ask you to consider the idea that maps are wrong, but bear with me. See, maps diagram that part of the world which we live in. And maps are very logical. For every X/Y coordinate, every latitude and longitude, there's a corresponding point on the surface of the Earth. This does seem to make sense, and maps do indeed seem to be proven correct time after time. But I assert that this very quantitative way of looking at places is but one of many perceptions about locations.

For example, when we travel through the world, we are basing our travels on landmarks, signs, routes, and the like. And each of us builds a different mental picture of how places are interconnected. Oftentimes, folks look at maps and are surprised to see the "real" way things are.

But remember, accurate maps are created through a complex, specialized method, and can only truly be tested by similar complex, specialized methods. So while maps are utile--they are tools and serve a purpose--they should not be considered canon in terms of exactly where places and locations are and interconnect.

In any discussion of Obliviana, the concept of Corridor must be introduced. Corridor is the place we live, the regular world. Maps are diagrams of Corridor. Corridor is both a vital protector and ruthless jailor. And you're almost certainly in Corridor right now.

When you go about your day, you don't decide every little thing, you just "go with the flow" and do what you "have to do". The amount of freedom we would seem to have, ie, "get in your car and drive", never happens. I mean, think of all the places you could physically go to and be at four hours from now. It's a lot of places, eh? But to be realistic, we usually have but a handful of choices where we should have a virtually unlimited palette. Why is this? Because of Corridor.

See, Corridor is the embodiment of the structure of situation. Like car on a railroad, we're guided along through each day, and the general arc of our activities is basically beyond our control. Yeah, when it comes to small stuff, you have some control, but as far as where you are at any given time, no.

Now, Corridor is not as unyielding as railroad tracks; it's more like a river, with a strong current down its center, its force fading toward the edges. So while it's easy to break away from the CENTER of Corridor a little, it's EXTREMELY DIFFICULT to get out if Corridor entirely. And that's just what it takes to enter Obliviana--you must break free from the grip of Corridor.

Once you're away from Corridor, such logics as latitudes and longitudes and precise X/Y coordinates are no longer in effect. They no longer really matter. Corridor keeps you away from Obliviana not through physical boundaries, but by leading you around so that you always manage to avoid entering Obliviana.

But I'm telling you right now, that if you use the right techniques and methodologies, it is indeed possible to get to Obliviana. That's what Obliviana Super Occult Amusement is all about. Getting to Obliviana is still a dream--none of us has gotten there yet. But we have all the ingredients necessary to strike forth into Obliviana, and you're invited to join in our explorations. Just keep on reading OsoaWeek every week!

And remember, the number 209 is at the core of all our Obliviana exploration strategies!

Obliviana is a place--a place you can eventually get to!

*OW*



[[09006HR]] Hemisinister Review

***MOVIES***

NATURAL BORN KILLERS
I've always hated Oliver Stone, so you can imagine how upset I was when I really loved this film! It's rare that a filmmaker sets out to make a weird, stylistic, collage, ultra-violent, social satire, comedy and actually succeeds. But this tale of pop mass murderers "Mickey and Mallory" is entertaining, thrilling, funny, visually stimulating, superbly edited, and a must-see for violence lovers. Something of an art film, though, so be warned.

BARCELONA
A fun intellectual comedy done with a lot of directorial flair, this followup to "Metropolitan" is delicate, intricate filmmaking, not at all robust, but enjoyable nonetheless. s

HOW DO THEY RATE?
(NATURAL BORN KILLERS, Sirens, True Lies, The Lion King, BARCELONA, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Surviving the Game, The Mask, Forrest Gump, Backbeat, The Crow, Baby's Day Out, Clean Slate, The Flintstones, Thumbelina)

*OW*



[[10006HT]] Halfevil Times

HALFEVIL TIMES PERCEPTIONS & PONDERINGS


EVER WONDER...

...how all these celebrities brag about using drugs in the past, but never get investigated or arrested?

...how we got along all those years with regular toothpaste tubes, considering that they keep putting out new designs to save us from the rigors of the old style?

...if Calvin Klein is working on a new fragrance called "Midnight Basketball"?

...why Sally Struthers asks "Do you want to make more money?" when she should be asking "Dear Lord, how did I become such a fat psycho loser?"

...what would happen if TWA changed their name from "Trans World Airlines" to "Trans World Air Transport"?

...if nuking Japan a few more times will finally get them to change their trade policy toward the U.S.?

...why all these millionaire movie stars feel they have a right to decide the fate of rain forests owned not by them, but by poor South Americans? The only ecosystems they should be worrying about are their pools.

...why Dan Quayle gets criticized for making one mistake in spelling a word, while Al Gore gets lauded for his book about the environment that's full of mistakes and lies?


EVER NOTICE...

...that police car lights get funkier and funkier every year?

...that no one holds themself to the same driving standard they set for everyone else?

...that since "new Coke" became "Coke II", and "old Coke" became "Coca-Cola Classic", there's nothing called just "Coke" or "Coca-Cola" anymore?

...how much better America would be if the government spent more on libraries and less on welfare?

...that this whole blackboard and chalk thing has to go?

...that you never hear about those damn Baltics anymore?

...that any TV documentary about apes or retards is so fascinating that it's impossible to turn off?

...that if the Swiss Army was more involved with military training and tactics than pocket knives, they might have had a chance against Hitler?


*OW*



[[11006SU]] Superior

SUPERIOR 41
Aside, low maker of flimsia! To your spot! Don't deny the icebreaker of wonder, the creator of the best of it. Times has come, in a boat, dangerous since in a dream, but carrying real items. This is got to stop. And the night glimpsed in a time a life or two ago but it definitely points to time travel.

SUPERIOR 42
Cabinet of corners, folder of wild: seldom said the main walkway is hallway--try and retreat from a floor sleeping rug as these. Truly, into is a great. Because, taken into account for a warring elusive enjoyment, I was in bliss when it was along at speeds. Hey? You aren't the one! Go'on, get outta here!

SUPERIOR 43
Going through a rain highway I said was a goal and a fair romance. Free in a clearing were bolt haven the corner mazen. And the in the day was fine, and in mine and is cure.

SUPERIOR 44
Letter never, I was here to deceive thee, the mask robont. Meet the five bears: Lacquer-1119, Spelunker-181, Hood-8, Prisoner-91, Jackdaw-41552. A tenseness in the light rain forming the image of a squirrely lass in the park in the 1970's. I'm like going there in an happily portal like here I was in the bin. Hapa! Is what she is, not here not all, okay bad.

SUPERIOR 45
Sitting uncomfortable beachy chair arm slick--sun hot nostril, bitter sensation chest, a flapping language for the tinny mistress of the thought. Coiled falling release, pressure direct, her bellybutton, blazing blood in hand. Coarse lucid blank for the into my forehead and dust my eye, licking pale parch. Coin for machine, deserted fair, fingers rend metal cope expander dunking plaster. Chomp into poison chair, nails horns in solids above. Slow damn, see the setting optic sun.

SUPERIOR 46
That hay not under, and what a was wonder, a who in the an is. Liken with highfriend and wrendon the frame--whey overdrench headblaze of logic cumulate frost of lapis on a some pipes. The clinkerbuilt civet cat is brooding under the porch, lapstrake in fur bobbin her bluff.

SUPERIOR 47
Eat breakfast on a Frisbee. Invent the first portable stomach. Lubricate something close to your heart. Madness is a luxury you can ill afford. Draw on popcorn. Use the best pancake emblem, if you will. To avoid starvation, try eating some food. Fuse pencils and pinecones together. Have a public servant touch your knee.

SUPERIOR 48
The small green book is smaller than your thumbnail. Contemplate your right nipple. Sketch your concept of a sore abdomen. Call attention to the flashlight protruding from your hip. Hacksaw your memory. You have the combined IQ of a potato. You'll be happy at four million o'clock on October 412th, 1973.

*OW*



[[12006SR]] Severe Repair

SEVERE REPAIR 6: "You're a Good Man for Crying on the Job"

She sat at her new desk figuring out her new signature. At the top of the sheet of paper she had done a number of her old "Sleap Drassy" signatures, and now at the bottom she was trying to figure out how to make "Sleap Jankels" look good. She couldn't. No matter how she tried it, it never even looked remotely correct.

She'd just gotten married to Jean two weeks earlier, and had returned from their dizzying honeymoon that morning. She thought of Jean, who was taking a shower, as she kept writing "Sleap Jankels" over and over again. What was she doing with her life? It didn't matter, she thought. At this point, you have to go along with it for a few years, you made the choice, you said yes, you have to give it a chance. The doubts seemed perfectly natural to her; they didn't bother her.

But Jean Jankels--there was something about him, a side of himself he revealed on the honeymoon, that...

BASH! BASH! BASH!

Sleap looked up, shocked. Someone was bashing to the door down. She started to get up but stopped, thinking better of it.

BASH! BASH!

Her mind was racing.

KERASH!

The door was down. She should run to Jean, warn him. Did he still have the gun from the honeymoon? She didn't know.

She heard a man yelling orders. The door next to her was almost closed--she gently pushed it shut.

She could hear the voices distinctly now.

"The Helloid scanner's goin' nuts!" a husky voice roared.

"In there!" a man with a deep voice yelled.

"That's it!" a woman said. "It's in there!"

She heard the bathroom door being kicked open.

"It's in the shower! Babel, the Exorsault better be ready!" the husky voice yelled.

"It is!" the woman yelled back.

"Here goes!" the guy with the deep voice said.

Then a sound came to Sleap ears which blew her mind apart. A shrieking wail, that made fingernails on a blackboard seem like a church bell. It was pure pain, pure horror.

The shriek continued but it was joined by a weird sort of deep bubbling noise, eerie and pronounced. She couldn't believe that at some level, she found these sounds enjoyable.

After a few moment of these noises, which seemed really like forever, there was a dull pop, followed by the sound of liquid splattering on bathroom floor.

"One less demon." the husky voice said.

What had happened? Was Jean being attacked by a monster and these people saved him? It seemed the logical explanation. Slowly, Sleap opened the door and peered out. An Asian man covered in equipment and reddish gooey stuff looked over at her.

"Miss?" he said in his deep voice.

Sleap stared at him, unable to move or speak.

"What a mess!" she heard the husky voice say from the bathroom.

"Better this one mess than the multitudes this guy would've slaughtered." the woman said.

"You said it." the husky voice mumbled.

The Asian man looked from his cohorts, back to Sleap, then back to his cohorts again.

"Uh, guys. There's a lady out here."

"Huh?" said the husky voice, as its owner came out of the bathroom, a large man with a full beard and mustache, likewise covered in equipment and gore. He regarded Sleap.

"How were you related to that thing in the shower?"

"What thing?" she asked.

"The demon."

"What about my husband?"

The large man looked down. The woman came into view behind him.

"The only thing in that shower was a demon." the woman said, a grim expression on her cute face, her long black hair fouled up with red junk.

Sleap looked over at her desk and slowly nodded her head.

"That would explain a lot." Sleap said dreamily.

"Ma'am, we're sorry." the Asian man said.

Sleap just looked at them, a complex expression on her face.

Suddenly, a beeping sound started going off, and the large man looked at something on his wrist.

"Demon attack at the Farzound Shopping Center!" he exclaimed.

"Oh no!" the Asian man said. "How could they have found out? What if they..."

"Come on! We have to get there fast!" the large man said, and the two men started running out.

The woman started after them, then paused, and turned to face Sleap.

"I know this must be terrible for you, and I wish we could stay, but the fate of the whole continent is at stake!"

Sleap made a "yeah, right" kind of sneer.

"Here--take our card. Give us a call if you need any help!"

Sleap took the business card and nodded.

"Have to get to that shopping center!"

The woman ran out, and the stench of the pile of demon remains started wafting across Sleap's nostrils.

She looked down at the card.

"Demonbane, Inc.", it said. "There's no demonic problem we don't have the solution to!"

Huh.

Jean was a demon. She had married a demon. Now he was a pile of smelly guts on the bathroom floor. How did those jerks expect her to clean it up? Did she have to call the police? What about Jean's family--did he really have any? Or were they all demons too?

Before she would think any more of the consequences of this event, she moved back to her desk and wrote her signature, "Sleap Drassy" in a large and undeniable manner across all the little attempts at "Sleap Jankels".

Suddenly, a blast of hot air hit Sleap, and she looked over into her bedroom. It was now full of smoke and lightning, with a horrible orange light visible in the distance. Slowly, three figures could be seen approaching through the mist.

Somehow, Sleap was unfazed by this. Her apathy shocked her, as she stoically glanced at the approaching figures. Then a thought shot across her mind--act normal. Act like you should. Don't let them know. Don't let them know you're unimpressed.

So she started acting. She got up and put her hands to her mouth in fear, as if she were trying to let out a scream but was too scared to. She moved toward the door, but it immediately slammed shut. Big surprise, she thought.

The three figures were getting closer now. She regretted that she couldn't get a better look at them, as she was trying her best to seem panicked, banging on the door and crying for help.

"Heretic." a cold, haywire, monstrous, calm voice shot out.

She turned and sank to the floor, back to the door, trying her best to sob uncontrollably.

The three figures were in the room now. The main figure was a tall humanoid being, covered in levels of leather and chains, but a few openings around the face and hands suggested deerlike origins. The other two figures wore brown cloaks, and had deformed pitch black faces partially visible.

The three were still hovering as they approached Sleap.

Don't let them know! She continued to think. This is fantastic! What fun! At some level, she wondered why this should seem enjoyable. Really, it shouldn't.

The central figure raised its hand and pointed a leather-clad finger toward Sleap.

"Filthmate. I accuse you of heresy."

Sleap looked up at the ridiculous creature, biting her tongue to keep herself from laughing.

"Who... who are you?" she said, wishing it sounded more convincing.

"I am Infernal Accuser Zefzec. You will accompany Infernal Hosts Slarb and Winti to Hell."

"No!" she wailed out.

But she let the Infernal Hosts approach her, each taking an arm. They lifted her up, and they all started hovering back into the rotten orange light. She felt exhilarated.

As they drifted lightward, one of the hosts looked over at her. Yeah, maybe she had stopped her being-frightened act too soon, but it was too late for them. And she could have just gone into shock or something. Going to Hell would be somewhat overwhelming for a normal person. But wasn't she normal? No.

The special effect of the transfer to Hell were pretty good. Horrible sights, smells, and feelings. Pretty bad. Meant to beat even the most stalwart humans into senselessness and submissiveness. Sleap hardly batted an eyelash. To her, it was pathetic.

Finally, they approached a plateau, where Infernal Jailors were waiting to take her into custody. She just had to be transferred into their hands and she could stop the charade. But she had to remain convincing until then, because the Hosts still had the power to take her back. Once in the hands of the Jailors, though, she could cut loose.

This was a part of her suppressed for a long time. But it felt good to have her true nature back. And she knew she'd enjoy her stay in Hell.

The Accuser drifted to the Jailor and began conversing with him in an infernal tongue. The hosts stopped well back, waiting for the sign. After a minute of two, the Accuser wiggled his thumb, and the Hosts approached.

The Accuser turned.


"Filthmate, you are hereby placed into the custody of Infernal Jailor Hamt."

The Accuser drifted away, and the Hosts took Sleap forward to face the Jailor. The Jailor, a huge, horned monstrosity, grabbed Sleap's arms with two hands and slapped on restraints with two more. The hosts drifted away.

Sleap was looking down, and felt the gaze of the Jailor upon her. Suddenly without warning, she looked up at the creature, a crazy, intense smile on her face.

"Hey there Jailor Hamt! How ya doin' today!"

The Jailor grunted and moved back.

"Oh no ya don't!" Sleap said, walking forward, her bonds dropping to the ground with a clank. "I'm your charge. You're responsible for me. Right, boy?"

"Emergency!" the Jailor bellowed.

Sleap gestured with her right hand and the Jailor doubled over in pain.

"You're correct, you little sh*t. I am a Looter. And I intend to suck this Hell dry before I'm done!"

"E... emer... emergency..." the Jailor wailed with some effort.

Sleap stretched her arms out and yawned a satisfying sigh. She thought of how glorious it would be dismantling this Hell piece by piece, packing it up, and selling it to the highest bidder.

"Damn, this is fun!"

* * *

As Tanner Loblolly, Fluffy Netherf*ck, and Little Red Thread were leaving the Evan portal, a weird little guy came up to them. He was short, pudgy, wore thick-lensed eyeglasses, had thinning light blond hair, and looked extremely nerdy and pathetic.

"Uh--uh--uh--" he stuttered urgently.

"Oh, it's you Chive Moron. Hello." Fluffy said.

"Eh--uh--the--" Chive Moron continued.

"What's the matter?" Thread asked.

"Ta--Fisher--ta--" he said.

"What?" Fluffy asked.

"Ta--Fisher--kindap--"

"What about Little Fisher?" Thread asked.

"Ta--kindap--Fisher kindap--"

" Kidnapped?" Fluffy asked "Fisher was kidnapped?"

"R--r--r--" Chive Moron stuttered hopelessly.

"Look!" Tanner said, pointing to a door on the other side of the Cellar.

They heard Fisher squeal as they saw the door slam.

"Sh*t! Fisher's been kidnapped!" Thread said.

"Yeah--let's go!" Fluffy said as she broke into a run across the floor. Tanner and Thread followed.

They reached the door and Fluffy swung it open. They saw shadows at the other end of the upwardly slanting corridor.

"Where does this lead?" Tanner asked as they ran up the hallway.

"Parking garage." Fluffy answered.

Tanner had difficulty keeping up with Fluffy, even running as fast as he could. They got to a steel door to the right at the end of the corridor, and Fluffy tried to open it, but it was locked.

"Sh*t! They locked it!" Fluffy exclaimed. "Stand back Tanner."

Tanner backed away, and then Fluffy stood motionless for a few seconds with a look of rage on her face. She brought her arm back and then powerfully punched the door with an immense force, denting it and knocking it off its hinges. The door was still hanging on, so she kicked it twice, and the door fell.

"Jeez!" Tanner exclaimed.

"Come on!" Fluffy yelled.

They stepped out into the parking garage just as a dirty blue station wagon passed by the door. They could see Little Fisher in the back window motioning and screaming for help.

"Damn it!" Fluffy exclaimed as she started running in the opposite direction as the station wagon was headed.

"Where are we going?" Tanner huffed as he followed her.

"To my car of course!" she yelled.

"They ran for about thirty seconds, weaving around columns and stairwells, than ran down a flight of stairs and came to Fluffy's automobile, a little white sports car with gray trim.

Fluffy took out her key, opened the door, and told Tanner and Thread to get in. Tanner got in next to her and Thread darted in as he was closing the door.

Fluffy started the car, revved the engine, and sped out of the parking spot.

"Damn it." Fluffy said "We don't know where the hell they went."

"Fluffy, if you give me a second, I can use my remote viewing powers to see where they are." Thread said.

"Oh that's right--you can find them! Man oh man, these suckers are chopped meats now." Fluffy said.

Fluffy drove her car though the maze of the parking garage at breakneck speed. Tanner was holding on for dear life. They skidded around a corner and came to an extremely steep ramp leading upward at nearly a 45 degree angle. Fluffy stormed up it, accelerating to about 80 mph.

"Holy sh*t!" Tanner said, shutting his eyes.

Fluffy laughed and sped up. The ramp was extremely long, and they continued up it for the better part of a minute.

Finally, as the opening to the surface was in sight, Fluffy asked Thread if she had a sighting yet.

"Just a second, Fluffy--yes--they're on the Service Road heading for Highway 4,000!" Thread said.

"Perfect!" Fluffy exclaimed "I know a good shortcut."

They burst out into the late afternoon outskirts of the City.

Fluffy drove along recklessly, turning sharply onto several increasingly unmaintained streets, finally rounding a curve and driving into a mass of tall weeds. Tanner was petrified as they sped through the field of weeds, unable to see where they were going.

"Fluffy, I never heard of this shortcut." Thread said.

"Never mind that--where are they?" Fluffy asked.

"Um--" Thread said "they're just turning onto the highway now--about a mile away. But Fluffy, I don't know if this is such a good shortcut--"

Suddenly they burst out of the weeds and into midair several hundred feet above the ground, falling toward Highway 4,000 below.

"Sh*t!" Fluffy exclaimed as she rolled down her window and climbed halfway out of the car.

They were falling perpendicular to the highway, so Fluffy took out a rope, lassoed a streetlight on the highway, and tensed herself. With a lurch, the car orbited the streetlight twice, and then roughly landed on the highway below. Fluffy immediately wriggled back into her seat and hit the gas.

They wailed wildly down the highway.

Tanner yelled "How the f*ck did you do that!?"

"Practice." Fluffy said, and she laughed crazily.

The car had sustained some damage in the crash landing and was swaying back and forth and they tore ahead in excess of 120 mph.

"Where are they now?" Fluffy asked.

"I--they got off on an exit about two miles ahead, but I lost them." Thread said.

"No problem." Fluffy said as they sped onward.

In about a minute they got to the exit Thread was referring to, and followed it onto a dirt road.

"Look--an accident up ahead!" Thread yelled.

Fluffy said nothing, but skidded to a halt behind the wrecked blue station wagon.

"That's the car all right." Thread said.

"This is a total fiasco." Fluffy said, getting out of the car.

Fluffy and Thread went up to the accident.

Tanner slowly got out of the car, so nerveshot that he was barely able to move.

Looking at the accident, Fluffy and Thread saw a Hispanic family in the wreckage--all dead. There was a man, a woman, and three young children.

"Where the hell is Fisher?" Fluffy asked.

"Look! In the tree!" Thread said as Tanner approached the wreck.

Little Fisher was in the branches of a dry dead tree, squealing in panic and struggling to maintain her balance, a huge drop into a canyon below her.

"Oh no!" Fluffy said.

"We have to save her!" Tanner said blaringly.

Tanner looked at Fluffy, then ran over to the tree and began to climb it.

"Tanner no!" Fluffy yelled.

"He looks pretty shaken from your driving." Thread said.

Out in the tree, Tanner was struggling to get to where Fisher was dangling.

"I'll save you..." he said.

Then the tree, losing its rooting, began to lurch forward. Fisher fell, squealing. Tanner desperately tried to save himself by grabbing a larger branch, but the branch snapped, and he also fell.

As Tanner fell, he saw Fisher hit the ground below, but instead of smashing up, she just bounced. Then Tanner felt a tug at his ankle and watched helplessly as he slammed hard with a thud into the face of the cliff. Fluffy had lassoed his ankle, and was pulling him back up.

When she finally got him back to the edge of the cliff, he was unconscious from the impact.

"I hope he's okay--" Thread said.

"Oh he's okay." Fluffy said " I can see he's made of pretty tough stuff."

Soon Tanner came to, and the three found a trail leading down into the canyon below.

At the bottom, they found Fisher fighting with a gang of weird, skinny, multicolored, angular cats. As they approached, the cats all stopped fighting with Little Fisher and stared at Tanner. As he got closer, they opened their eyes wide in amazement and shied away from him, eventually lurking off.

"That's weird." Fluffy said " The anglecats appear to be scared of you, Tanner."

"I'm not surprised, considering what a mess I am." Tanner said.

"No, I mean it. It's not normal for those creatures to act that way." Fluffy said.

"Well, at least they're gone." Tanner said.

Little Fisher squealed with joy and ran towards the three, jumping up into Fluffy's arms.

"Those jerks kidnapped me, but I made them crash." Fisher signed.

"Good for you!" Thread said.

The four hiked back up to Fluffy's car and got in. Fluffy got her cellular phone from a belt pouch and dialed it.

"Hello?" she said "--yeah--this is Fluffy--yeah --listen--listen--some more of these damn extremists are crashed and totally killed out here on Highway 4,000--okay--will do."

Fluffy hung up.

They drove back to the parking garage, the car swaying rhythmically from side to side.

Finally they got to Cellar Sixteen.

Little Fisher and Little Red Thread bade farewell.

"Tanner, you look awfully tired. Would you like to come up to my room and get some sleep?" Fluffy offered.

"Yeah, that sounds great." Tanner said, yawning. "But I have to meet my friends soon..."

"Don't worry, I'll go and meet them for you and tell them where you are."

"You could do that?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Thanks. And I'm sorry I lost it back there and went into the tree--I was just really shaken up, y'know?"

"Don't worry about it--you acted very bravely."

They went over to the elevators, and took one up to the 50th floor.

Then they entered Fluffy's suite.

"Well, this is where I live, Tanner." Fluffy said.

"Cool." Tanner remarked, looking around in wonder.

"I'm going to take a shower. You can take shower also, if you wish--there's a guest room with a bathroom just over through that door. There should also be some generic bedclothes for you to wear, if you wish."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'll be in in a little while, so we can figure out what I should tell your friends."

"Great." Tanner said.

Fluffy went off to the bathroom, and Tanner went over to the guest room. It was a small, cozy room with Fluffy's trademark white and gray motif. Tanner sat down on the bed and just stared off into space. For a few minutes he just sat there, poring over the events of the past twelve or so hours. Verily, he could not yet come to terms with the events of the day, so he settled on maintaining his illogical-acceptance and practical-deal-with-it attitudes.

Soon Tanner got up, found some suitable bed clothes in a closet, and went into the bathroom and took a long shower. Then he dried himself off, brushed his teeth with a new toothbrush which he found in a cabinet, put on the bed clothes, and walked back into the guest room, thankfully refreshed.

He turned on a TV in the room to see what sort of shows they had in Agoopish. The first thing he saw was the end of a commercial with the words Pay the Toll--At the Bridge on the screen, and a deep voice also saying the words. Then another commercial came on which depicted a family sitting around a table, dipping little stones into melted cheese, and then trying to move the cheese-covered stones with telekinesis. The game was called Chonesteeze Max. Tanner shut the TV off.

I am in a goddess's hotel room, he thought. And then he wondered if she might want to have sex with him. The thought was obvious--and since he wasn't familiar with Agoopi customs, it might very well be the case that sex was very casual here. But, he reasoned, Fluffy also knew that he was ignorant of Agoopi customs, and judging from her even-keeled personality, she probably wouldn't subject him to further excitement. He figured sex with a goddess must be a singularly exhilarating and draining experience, and he figured he was in no shape at that point, anyway. Still, the thought of the possibility lingered. And Fluffy was so ravishingly beautiful...

But Tanner put this thought in the back of his mind and ventured out into the suite proper. He didn't see Fluffy anywhere, so he decided to look around. The main room was large and had a sunken floor. He walked down, and saw that there was a roaring fire going in a fireplace.

Walking over to a huge window, he saw an amazing view of Agoopish at dusk--and was surprised at how many colorful lights abounded on the scene. It was magical--much cooler than any Earth city he'd ever seen.

He walked over to a door in a short hallway and opened it up, only to see a weird corridor of oddly-angles mirrors leading down and to the left. He closed the door immediately, not wanting to deal with any more gigabizarre stuff until he had a good slumber.

Then he walked back into the main room and stood in front of the fire. He reflected on the maneuver Fluffy had pulled with the car, playing it over and over again in his mind's eye. He concluded firstly that Fluffy had deadly aim with her lasso, and that the rope was of a very durable material. But the fact that she held onto the rope in the massive centrifugal force of the car, as well as her punching the thick metal door open, suggested that she possessed great physical strength. Strength that her lovely lissome body did not belie.

But the whole sequence of the car stunt--something wasn't right. It was either inertia, gravity, time, or some other natural law--but it was not right. Or at least, it did not operate as it would have on Earth. He felt confident that such a stunt indeed could not have been executed on Earth.

He walked away from the fire and over to another hallway near the window.

"I see you're all ready for bed." Fluffy said from across the room.

She was wearing a lingerie sort of nightgown, and Tanner turned quickly away upon seeing her--as he began getting aroused the instant he saw her, and didn't want her to see any erection he might be having.

"Yeah--I had a great shower, and as you can see, these clothes fit pretty well."

"Yup." Fluffy said.

Just before Fluffy had come into the room Tanner had spied a hatch in the floor of the hall-way, and wanted to open it. So now, even though Fluffy was there, he bent down and began to open the hatch.

"Oh, don't look in there." Fluffy said.

But it was too late, and as Tanner fully opened the hatch, air rushed from the hallway into the opening, and he was looking down into a dark void of space dotted with a field of stars, as if it were the night sky of outer space. Tanner gazed amazed into the hatch for a few seconds, then slammed it shut.

"Sorry." Tanner said.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Just don't ask me to explain it right now--okay?"

"Okay." Tanner said.

"Well, come over here by the fire, and we'll discuss things."

"Okay." Tanner said, and he walked over to the fire, fixing his robe so that she wouldn't see the full erection he now had. His entity was filling with lust, even though he strove to beat it back. He sat down on a low couch next to Fluffy in any case.

"Are you satisfied with the accommodations?" Fluffy asked, smiling.

"Yeah. I'm very happy with them. Thank you very, very much."

"Oh, it's no problem. I'll see what I can do about getting you and your friends a suite in the Hotel sometime this evening."

"That would be great."

They both stared at the fire for several moments.

"So," Fluffy said, "that was quite some adventure we had today, huh?"

"Yeah, I'd say so. I mean, I've never experienced anything like it. What's the deal with these extremists anyway?"

"Well, they're denizens who have an unintelligible political agenda which opposes just about everything in the universe, and they engage in random acts of terrorism, such as the kidnapping of Little Fisher this afternoon. They're verifiably warped and demented. Some of us think they're brainwashed and sent here from one of the other Overt Cities."

"Hmm... You know, I was meaning to ask you about Little Fisher and Little Red Thread. I mean, I found it a little hard to believe that they're goddesses."

"Well, I know it's a little odd, but they are certainly goddesses, and they've both been here from the beginning."

"Well, I can sort of understand Little Fisher, but what about Little Red Thread? I mean, is that all she is--a piece of red thread?"

"Well, as far as her physical form goes, yes, she is but a piece of thread. But as you can readily see, she has a brilliant mind and deep emotional fire. She accepts that she is a piece of thread, but she doesn't let that get in the way of accomplishing wonderful things. And I often think she is blessed not to have to deal with a human body all the time."

"Yeah." Tanner said. "Y'know, I'm also wondering about, y'know, what you said before, about being here since the dawn of time..."

"Yes?"

"I mean, I was just wondering, if you don't mind, like, just how far back into time can you remember?"

"Well Tanner, you must consider that time and memory are two different things. And it is common knowledge in Agoopish that the godmind is different from the mortalmind--in that parts of it go to sleep for long periods of time. Like the memory center. They say that our memories must sleep from time to time, and that if at any time we cannot recall our entire past, it is just because this part of our mind is asleep. I mean, right now, for instance, I don't think I can re-member back more than 310, 315 years."

"But... but can you remember having remembered farther back than that? I don't mean actually having the memories, but do you remember having the memories?"

"What does that matter?"

"I just mean--if you can remember the past 300 years, mustn't you have been able to remember farther back during some point in that 300 years?"

"Certainly."

"Then do you remember remembering?"

"I think I do. Yeah--I definitely think I do."

"But you have no memory from before 315 years ago?"

"At this moment, no. But there are written records for all time, and if I forget something about my past, I can always look it up. Some-times when I'm reading about myself in the library, even I'm surprised at some of the things I've done."

"How far back do these records go, in years?"

"I'm afraid that's classified."

"No problem."

"But I'm not particularly concerned with remembering my whole life all the time. Just the stuff I have to remember this year is enough to occupy me!"

"Yeah I guess you're right."

"So tell me, when and where should I meet you're friends, and what shall I tell them?"

"Well, what time is it now? 7:49 PM? Well, I was supposed to meet them at 10:00 PM by that fountain by the movie theater. If you could meet them there, that'd be great."

"How will I know them?"

"Well, Minion Van Hall--he has long hair and a leather jacket and a Murder Pkotocks T-shirt--and Martin Fovea, he has on like a blue shirt, and gray pants, and a striped green jacket, and he has short blond hair, and he's pretty tall."

"I'm sure I can identify them."

"And you can just tell them to call me up here later, if that's okay with you."

"Certainly. There's a separate phone line in your room. When shall I have them call you?"

"Um--well, if I'm going to bed now, at 8:00 PM, I guess you should let me get about four hours sleep. So you can tell them to call around midnight, if that alright."

"That's fine. But I'll probably be gone around then, so you can just let yourself out. Okay?"

"Sounds great."

"Well now, let's get you to bed." Fluffy said, standing up.

Tanner got up and they both walked to the guest room.

"I trust you know how to use the phone and the lights and the TV." Fluffy said.

"Yeah, sure."

"It's just that you'd be surprised--some people have no grasp of these newer technologies."

"Well, coming from The Confederen Areas of Baskonontana, I shouldn't have any trouble with technology." Tanner said, self-consciously getting into the bed.

Fluffy looked at Tanner. He was dizzy from his arousal at this point, though he wished it were not so.

"Tanner," Fluffy said after a moment, "now don't be embarrassed, but I sense your arousal and lust, and I find it fully acceptable."

"I--uh--"

"Now don't say anything. You need not apologize or be bashful. I understand lust and sex and romance a great deal, and have acquired some wisdom on such matters, so to discharge your lust peacefully I will kiss you and send you into deep blissleep, and you will awake fully rested and refreshed."

With this, Fluffy sat down on the bed, put one arm around Tanner's shoulder,
and gently kissed him on the lips. Almost immediately, Tanner fell into a deep sleep, and Fluffy lowered him into the bed and tucked him in.
Then she turned off the lights and left the room.

In the depths of sleep, Tanner had many abstract and flowing and lovely dreams. One which stood out from the rest was vision of a naked Fluffy Netherf*ck standing in front of a lit candle in a dark room, moving her hands around the flame, and then gently vanishing.

Just as Tanner was nearing consciousness, he heard a deep voice in the room with him clearly say: "You're a good man for crying on the job". This jolted him to consciousness. He didn't know whether it was a real voice or from a dream, but as he lay there in bed, he was paralyzed with fear, wondering if someone was lurking nearby.

"Hello?" Tanner finally blurted out, annihilating the silence. But there was no response.

Then the phone rang. Tanner looked at the clock--it was 11:55 PM.

"Hello?" Tanner said again, this time into the phone.

"Hey dude! What's up! We met that hot babe of a goddess you were hanging out with!" Minion Van Hall said.

"Minion! What's up!"

"Did I wake you?"

"Not really--I just got up, in fact. I thought I heard a voice in the room."

"Hey--in this f*ckin' city if the only weird thing that happens is a voice in a room, I'd be happy."

"Heh--and how."

"So anyway man--your girlfriend Fluffy got us a suite in the Hotel--we're on the 22nd floor. It's a really really excellent room! And she said we could stay as long as we want."

"What about--what about our parents? Won't they be worried about us?"

"No problem, dude. Did you know you can call Earth from here? It's really excellent. The Hotel switchboard can connect you with the regular Earth phone network--so I called all our parents, and told them we were staying over each other's house. The connection was pretty fuzzy, but it worked okay."

"What did you tell my parents?"

"I told your father we got a ride from someone else and that you were staying over my house and that you went down to the store to get some coffee so you couldn't come to the phone."

"Great. But what if they try to call me at your house?"

"Then there'd be a problem--but whadda we care? We did our best to deceive them, and any-way, we're in like a totally alien universe now! So who cares what they think?"

"Yeah I guess you're right. So what did you do today?"

"Well at first, after you left, me and Martin were hanging out with those two goddesses--Lovely Vastenlusty and Bazy Diswarnin. Did you know that Bazy's saliva is like burgundy? Y'know? It's pretty excellent. Then after awhile the goddesses split and then me and Martin split up too, causa what El Flactor Floor said and stuff, and I did all sorts of stuff and so did Martin, but we'll tell you all about it when you come over. Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you awake, man?"

"Yeah, I'm awake."

"So look--we're in suite 22-E on the 22nd floor, okay? Just come down as soon as you can. Just knock on the door, dude."

"Yeah alright."

"Come down right now, okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be down in about ten minutes."

"Cool--I'll see you then." Minion said.

"Alright, bye-bye." Tanner said, hanging up.

Then Tanner turned the light on and looked suspiciously around the room. He was alone. You're a good man for crying on the job--what the hell did that mean? He turned off the light and got back under the covers to get a few more minutes of ecstatic rest before facing the stark reality of the wavy surreality of Agoopish once again...

*OW*



[[13006AX]] Appendix

Confused? Here's Everything You Need to Know!

(This information is reprinted every issue in essentially the same form.)

Obliviana Super Occult Amusement (Osoa) is an endeavor created by Frank Edward Nora, AKA, Lord of Obliviana. Osoa is fully independent and not affiliated with any other organization, belief, etc.

1-800-OBLIVIANA--This toll-free number can be called anytime from any phone in the Continental USA for the latest information on Obliviana, including samples of Obliviana sound bites!

Acknowledgments: I would like to thank my girlfriend Kerri for putting up with me while I spend countless hours developing OsoaWeek--thanks Kerri, I love you!

The ezine OsoaWeek is the central product of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement. Each weekly issue is prepared as a plain vanilla ASCII file not less than 50K and not exceeding 100K, with the goal of being readable on as many computers as possible. Mac users will likely get little boxes on the lefthand column--this is due to the "hard return" needed at the end of every line on DOS machines. You can live with them, or search-and-replace them away (but please don't distribute any altered copies of OW!).

Meaning of codes: The first two-digit number is the sequential section number in this issue of OsoaWeek. The next three-digit number is the issue number of this OsoaWeek. The last element, a 2-character code, is shorthand for a given feature.

To search: To find the beginning of the next section, search for the string containing two lefthand brackets with no spaces. To find a particular section, search for the string containing two lefthand brackets followed by the two-digit section number, with no spaces. To find a particular feature, search for the string containing the two-character code followed by two righthand brackets, with no spaces. Using the latter method, you can find a particular feature in any issue of OsoaWeek without even referring to the contents.

The Contents are divided into three sections: (a) the introductory, informative, housekeeping sort of features, (b) stuff directly relating to the playing of Osoa, such as new Fonostas, events, info, etc., and (c) the general entertaining and informative section. These three areas are casual and separated for ease of use. To make it easy, in EVERY issue of OsoaWeek, the first section starts with Masthead (MH), the second with State of Obliviana (SO), and the third with Hemisinister Review (HR).

Here's a detailed introduction to Osoa:

You know there's something else going on in this world, but you can't quite pin it down. And you know there's something else going on with YOU. But it ever eludes you, and teases you, these glimpses of otherness.

On the subject of explaining the world, people generally consider that science and religion form a complete scale. Science dealing with the measurable and observable, and religion dealing with the supernatural and mysterious. But really, science is limited to physical measurement and observation, and religion is limited to gods, supernatural beings, how the world was created, and what happens to us when we die. But if you consider it, there is a vast realm of human experience which does not fall into either category. It is this realm that I call Obliviana.

Dreams, hunches, deja vu, luck, humor, creativity, emotions, intuition, events "working themselves out", psychic phenomenon, the atmospheres of certain places, memories from childhood, ruts, coincidence, "small world", and more. These are just the tip of the iceberg in Obliviana! Who knows what other exhilarating phenomena await our exploration?

With the dawn of the Digital Superworld, that complex and ever-expanding interconnection of computers, networks, and the like, the realm of human endeavor is drastically changed. We have glimpsed a danger in the mesmerizing qualities of even the worst television. In the Digital Superworld, this effect is magnified by several orders of magnitude--so even the cheapest and most worthless online activities become irresistibly engaging and addictive. Imagine a population fully engaged in such tripe--jacked in, spending more and more time engrossed in such pointless, empty activities as computers and robots do more and more of the work. Not a pretty picture, is it?

It is partially with the intent of preventing this nightmare that Obliviana Super Occult Amusement (Osoa) was established on July 28, 1994. Osoa is the first and greatest endeavor to provide the world with a viable, broad-based, universally-compelling endeavor to provide CONTEXT in the Digital Superworld.

The exploration of Obliviana can be undertaken in a wild variety of ways. Check out the eleven Osoa Flowers (introduced in OsoaWeek001) for details. Also check out the first issue for details on establishing your very own Fonosta!

Osoa is an innovative and far-reaching game. Why a game? Well, aren't most explorations really games when you come right down to it? And, as a practical matter, some of the elements in Obliviana are too bizarre to be presented as anything OTHER than a game. So Obliviana as game can be looked at as shielding and candy-coating, but can also be viewed as cutting to the heart of the matter--hey, exploring the realm of Obliviana is not vital to our ongoing survival, but it is pretty darn entertaining and satisfying.

It is with the game of Obliviana running on the ever-expanding Digital Superworld that we can abandon the mediocrity of the past and make something very new, wild, and now.

*OW*



[[END006OW]]



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