|| -------- -- -----  A E R I E   O B L I V I A N A . singular book of text wandertainment by Frank Edward Nora ------------------- ----------- OSOAWEEK--ISSUE 011--10/6/94 <-------  ||  OsoaWeek  ||  Issues  ||  Book 1  ||  -------> (Cup OWis011, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN011OW]] [[01011MH]] OsoaWeek011, October 6, 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 70117 characters and 1746 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* [[02011CN]] Contents of OsoaWeek011 BEGIN 01 011 MH--Masthead 02 011 CN--Contents 03 011 SP--Sneak Preview 04 011 LO--Lord of Obliviana Revelry 05 011 NH--Nihilistica 06 011 CO--Catalog of Obliviana * * * 07 011 SO--The State of Osoa * * * 08 011 HR--Hemisinister Review 09 011 HT--Halfevil Times 10 011 SU--Superior 11 011 SR--Severe Repair 12 011 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* [[03011SP]] Sneak Preview of OsoaWeek011 Okay all of you! This is a darn fine electronic magazine, and you ought to download it! Don't believe me? Well just check out the mind-numbing/shattering details below--details on just what you might expect to find in this, the eleventh issue of OsoaWeek! Lord of Obliviana Revelry (04011LO) is chock full of theories about being young and having fun, and how our adult longings for those bright days of youth can and will be rekindled, in Obliviana. Also, a dream involving mustard in some way. Nihilistica (05011NH)--Hey! Ever wonder why OsoaWeek comes out on Thursday? The exclusive answer is right here! Also, ever wish that it was easier to read OsoaWeek? That exclusive answer is also here! As well, teasers for the cool "Destruct-A-Farm" and "Psycho Trend" are presented for your confusal (confused approval, that is!) And last and most probably least, we have "The 18 Ways of Hafalazap", eh? Catalog of Obliviana (06011CO)--buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy, buy. I really do wish someone would buy. The State of Osoa (07011SO)--Ah yes! Technology, eh, technology. This essay discusses the changes in the distribution of intellectual property in the emerging Digital Superworld, and how that affects Obliviana. Also, where do you think Fonosta is headed? Find out here. Hemisinister Review (08011HR) Hey! I finally review a movie before it's released! (I caught a midnight sneak preview of Tim Burton's "Ed Wood"). Also, I delve into the bottomless world of video and come up with "Sneakers" and "Fast Times as Ridgemont High". See how all these films rate against all the others reviewed in OsoaWeek! Halfevil Times (09011HT) has more of that wacky Sooper News, this time returning to its hypersurrealistic roots! Check out the stories HEALTH DOCTOR QUITS, MORT HAS HIS DAY IN COURT, and MOTORIZED LOONY BINS A HIT. A bit strange, even by Obliviana standards! Superior (10011SU) get "Ever thorn, and in embrace?", get "Arctican rail phase deploy yes", get "Clobber the job dumb", and by all means get " Is this a new beginning?" Getting has never been crazier! Get it all! Severe Repair (11011SR)--this time, in "Fabric Reactor", we find Daptin Gone seeking the aid of Granticaine Chug Perion and his Provocation Team D. Will they make it to the weird cupslip world to save Fake Cerquaine from Cup's Club? Find out! A great sci-fi/fantasy story you can follow every week, exclusively in OsoaWeek! Appendix (12011AX) is for help that you can't find anywhere else. It's an absolute lifesaver! *OW* [[04011LO]] Lord of Obliviana Revelry I didn't get into The Beatles until 1990. Some time later, in some self-important intellectualizing, I was grasping to understand The Beatles phenomenon. I drew the conclusion that it was all about being young and having fun. This seemed a pretty solid thesis, but then the Pepsi ad "Be Young, Have Fun, Drink Pepsi" came along, and it seemed some other thinker travelled the same road as I, not a bad ad ploy, associating Pepsi with this primal force The Beatles had tapped into. Yeah, it seems to make sense, but really, there's a lot more to The Beatles than just being young and having fun. Innocence is the most vital factor in this. The innocence of people, and the innocence of a world. When your not used to something, it's scary, uncomfortable, thrilling, exhilarating. I am a futurist and businessman with a focus on entertainment. I would love to be able to recreate the thrill of being innocent and taking that log flume into the unknown. Such a product would be worth a fortune. But these days, we're all so jaded. JADED. More so for genY than genX, but bad for both. We all act like we're so world-aware and mature, so familiar with everything, experts on every musical and literary style, open to anything, open arms, open minds, no restrictions, no prejudice, no standards, no no no. Yeah I see that in myself and I see it in others. Yet I yearn for the vision, the vision of that primal naivete, that thrill of youth, socializing, endeavor, and all that. What am I questing for? And more so, is there a quantitative side to all this? I tell you, and I believe so, that through the Digital Superworld, this whole thing can be rekindled. Not REPRODUCED or RECREATED, but REKINDLED. What we lose in becoming adult is the freedom we had in lieu of security. But it's kind of impossible to keep a hold of, this jewel. It does just slip away, and we bid a fond farewell to the less appealing aspects of innocence. I know, isn't this the ultimate in weary, jaded thinking, the antithesis of innocence, in the planning of regaining lost nascence? Is it not more pathetic than an aging woman constantly yearning for the beauty of her youth? Is it not a terrible exercise? Well, no. Not at all. I feel that the wonders of emerging into adulthood are but a glimpse of what true humanity holds. Indeed, in our Contemporary American Terrain, we are very much forced to abandon our paths of glory. Remember, those days of your youth were riddled with difficulties; it takes the perspective of time to show you the true value of those days. What I'm driving at is that this Glory of Being Human is not something limited to adolescence and young adulthood, but rather, something which it easiest to grasp at that time of life. Looking at what Obliviana Super Occult Amusement is all about, it strikes me that it's really about regaining the Glory of Youth. And not as something fragile and fleeting, but as something tenacious and robust. And it is in the brand new landscape of the Digital Superworld that such a rekindling of the Glory of Youth shall detonate. Back to the moment, where am I now? All I can do is produce this weekly ezine right now. That's it. So how can I possibly manage to create such a huge, wonderful thing as Cyberhighplace Tourney? Well, I'll tell you. Folks always warn me about not telling people about my ideas lest they might steal them. Why is it all these people's ideas are never worth stealing? Anyway, it's no big secret and it's not really something that can be stolen. It's just a very simple observation. A very, very, very simple little thing. Many big companies are as I write are barreling headlong toward the inevitable construction of the Digital Superworld. Newer and better microprocessors, methods of compression, display technologies, and the like are all building to a crescendo. Yes, all the technology is coming, that's for sure. But the Digital Superworld is painfully needy of content and creativity, and these things are the least concern of the constructors of our future information infrastructure. So, quite plainly, the tabula rasa will be there, aching for content. Financially needing content. That's where Obliviana comes in. Sound loony? Yes it does. In October 1994, it does sound loony. These days, with so many underemployed creative sorts, what possible use would huge companies have of yet another underemployed creative sort as me? Well, you know what? I'll tell you. The reason is, I'm the best. I'm have the vision. My creative prowess cannot be stolen away from me like the blueprint for a better mousetrap, no. And since pirate digital reproduction of everything is ABSOLUTELY UNSTOPPABLE, the ability to create NEW and POWERFUL content will be greatly sought after. And hey, humility and spiritual mumbling are a dying relic of the old genX. Boasting and self-promo, co-opted in such a vile manner by rap (folks who have little to be proud of), is no longer to be shied away from. If you're a f*cking talent, accept it and say so! Let's rip away the stale suffocation of the early '90s! Let's get a move on--you know we have to. The time is here. Election Day 1994 and the home electronics boom of 1995 are just around the corner. We're at the threshold of a new period of history. Wake up! Things are changing. You have to plug into Obliviana to ride the wave. GET THE F*CK UP! Now, the second part of this week's Revelry. It's October 3, 1994, and I turn 27 today. A week or two ago, I broke the windshield of my Jeep Wrangler trying to smash a yellow jacket. I was really pissed-off. In the past year, I've been fired twice, I've gone to Salt Lake City and Walt Disney World, my girlfriend moved in with me, I did Fovy, Get All Obliviana, and finally struck upon the all-digital OsoaWeek. Here it is, issue eleven. Last night I had a dream that I worked in a weird bookstore at a mall, and I almost quit, but I stayed, and there was a huge warehouse in the back of the store, with all manner of old books, but then some weird supernatural force came and everything got messed up. Running through the mall at closing time, running through a mall that was Europe with my family, remembering that running through Germany took only a minute or two, winding up sleeping in some Middle Eastern country, in the morning, mustard and turkey sandwiches began to move, it was all fish between the bread, not turkey, and they were all alive again. Get all Obliviana! *OW* [[05011NH]] Nihilistica ***WHY THURSDAY?*** Why is OsoaWeek released every Thursday? Well, the answer is quite simple--Obliviana Day (the 209th day of the year) fell on Thursday, July 28 this year. So up until the next Obliviana Day, OsoaWeek will be released every Thursday. Obliviana Day 1995 falls on Friday, July 28. So starting then, OsoaWeek will come out Fridays. In 1996, Obliviana Day will be on Saturday, July 27 (due to Leap Year), and in 1997, it will fall on Monday, July 28. And so on and so forth. I hope that answers your question, pal. ***OSOAWEEK INTERFACE*** As you may have noticed, or read details on in the Appendix, OsoaWeek is formatted in such a way that each feature in each issue has a unique code at its beginning, and a delimiter at the end. This system was developed with a powerful interface in mind. This interface, once developed, will allow readers to access features in a variety of ways. For example, all Nihilisticas could be viewed together, or the Severe Repair and Superior from issues 4 thru 8, or all of issues 2 and 10, or only sections that mention "Fluffy", and so on. So check out this interface, which is currently somewhere in the indeterminable future! ***DESTRUCT-A-FARM*** Meet Brandy and Finch, the two fellows who make up Destruct-A-Farm, which is "just like a band except they don't play any music". Follow the exploits of these two college buddies who think too much as they try and make Destruct-A-Farm into the mega-hit it deserves to be! ***PSYCHO TREND*** A group of high school nerds discovers an obscure law which allows them to start their own school if their Principal is engaged in illegal activity. Well, when Principal Jones gets a speeding ticket, the kids take their case to a judge, who begrudgingly allocates massive funds to the creation of a whole new school--Psycho Trend! Laugh at the hilarious mayhem that ensues. ***18 WAYS OF HAFALAZAP*** [1] The Day Was [2] Nevver to be it [3] I am knawf [4] Locate I am Knop [5] the youty merserism [6] kem 99 pop Lichenhounds [7] I k.j. is Open to new idea [8] Found under road, it [9] See? opes get mont [10] Wqa as agent [11] Lopa the Deerblade! [12] Overlanda Emily is okay [13] cream and the jay [14] Porous friend, hello. [15] Jack, a matter, how swungitin [16] am shower the too [17] Domopo krill heavy, street baby [18] Kopjanitor is music *OW* [[06011CO]] 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. 28 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! 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, 7 left. OA005. $4 each. *OW* [[07011SO]] The State of Osoa You might find it a tad incongruous that I constantly speak of all sorts of incredible high technology and ways in which the digital revolution will change your life, when I'm producing work of the lowest order, tech-wise--ASCII text. Well, believe me, there is a reason (besides the fact that it's all I can afford). See, being a "little guy" business-wise, I cannot marshal the resources necessary to build communication networks, develop new digital video hardware, write high-powered 3-D rendering engines, and the like. I can, however, develop a suite of "Codingseeds"--ideas and designs to be implemented in the Digital Superworld. This is a simple business decision--that I should compete in an area where I have a chance--and that area is the area of CONTENT. And I have to say, ASCII text is the most universal, most portable file format in the entire milieu of computers. Just about any computer in the world can handle ASCII. Because of this, the ideas, the intellectual property, of Osoa can sprout forth and take root. But make no mistake--OsoaWeek is a product in and of itself. That is, OsoaWeek is not just a collection of ideas, but rather, an entertainment delivery device, with the purpose of providing free weekly infostimulation to anyone who wants it. The idea is that by using OsoaWeek as a backbone, the various other element of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement can grow. So here it is--OsoaWeek. There's new issue available every Thursday, and it's responsive to your e-mail in a very special way. How so? Well, if you look back in OsoaWeek001, you'll find this whole Fonosta thing. Your Fonosta is your identity in Osoa--and like OsoaWeek itself, creating and maintaining a Fonosta is absolutely free. See, when you establish or upgrade your Fonosta, the results will be printed in OsoaWeek. That is, instead of us sending e-mail back to you, you get the response in the next issue of OsoaWeek. Thus, OsoaWeek is not only the message, but also the archive, the record. The decisions you make with your Fonosta are permanently recorded in the archive of all OsoaWeeks. Now, the Fonosta system detailed in OsoaWeek001 is awfully vague, but fret not! In three weeks, OsoaWeek014 will recreate the entire Fonosta infrastructure, as well as the infrastructure of all of Osoa! One of the big problems I had with Fonosta was the idea that people could have an unfair advantage over others by establishing more than one Fonosta. See, the idea was that each person may have only one Fonosta. In an attempt to have some enforcement of this, I asked for personal information, such as name, address, and phone number. Much of this personal info was to have been kept in our archives and never printed in OsoaWeek, as a way for us to verify a person's identity. But my new ideal is to use OsoaWeek as a TOTAL record of Fonosta, with all information being printed in OsoaWeek. So the new system will ask for only one's name and e-mail address. These two pieces of information will be printed in OsoaWeek, and will be the extent of the personal information required to establish and upgrade one's Fonosta. One major change this will cause is the elimination of all regular mail (or "snailmail") Fonosta dealings. I feel that this is a positive step, as it further defines the audience of OsoaWeek as people who have e-mail addresses. I did have the illusion that I'd be able to deal with the postal world of envelopes, stamps, printouts, and trips to the mailbox, but really, all that is too much effort in this day and age. Another big improvement to Fonosta is an imaginary monetary system, and a variety of challenges and contests, "investments" and "gamblings", in which the winners will receive real prizes! To clarify, in the new Fonosta system, there will be a variety of assets everyone will start off with, to do with as he or she pleases. Every week, new opportunities and chances will be presented, and folks can send their e-mail in to make their choices. Winners in the various areas will then receive accolades, and sometimes, real prizes. So I hope your appetite has been whetted, and by all means, send in your oldstyle Fonosta right now, because while a lot will change in OsoaWeek014, the number you get will remain, and right now you're just about guaranteed a single digit number! How cool! *OW* [[08011HR]] Hemisinister Review ***MOVIES*** ED WOOD (opens 10/7/94) A wonderful, multidimensional comedy by the usually bad Tim Burton, this great film succeeds at many levels. It's the story of cross-dressing, "worst director of all time" Edward D. Wood, Jr. (Johnny Depp) and his travails making the "worst" films ever (especially, "Glen or Glenda", "Bride of the Monster", and the ubiquitous "Plan 9 from Outer Space"). The usually bad Depp delivers a delightful performance, but the real core of this film is Martin Landau's uncanny portrayal of Bela Lugosi. Shot entirely in black-and-white, this is one good movie--by a (usually) bad director, and about a (really not) bad director. FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH (on video) A dark-edged teen comedy, quirkier than it seems, and featuring the bare breasts of Phoebe Cates and Jennifer Jason-Leigh. Quite good. SNEAKERS (on video) A mixed-bad, lots of stars, much suspension of disbelief, plot collapse, but fresh pacing. Not bad. HOW DO THEY RATE? (Twin Peaks Fire Walk With Me, Natural Born Killers, Sirens, ED WOOD, True Lies, The Player, FAST TIMES AT RIDGEMONT HIGH, The Lion King, Barcelona, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues, Surviving the Game, Trespass, Cool World, The Mask, Aladdin, Night on Earth, Forrest Gump, Backbeat, SNEAKERS, Time Cop, The Crow, Dracula, Baby's Day Out, Batman Returns, Clean Slate, The Flintstones, Thumbelina, Toys) *OW* [[09011HT]] Halfevil Times ***HALFEVIL TIMES SOOPER NEWS*** HEALTH DOCTOR QUITS Moose Jaw Dimensionport, Saskatchewan--A doctor in the field of health working at the James Tar Refinery in the 14th Alternate World recently quit. Plant directors were stumped at this sudden and inexplicable loss of one of their work force. Asked for comment, Director Edmunds quipped, "It's a goddamn lie. It has to be." MORT HAS HIS DAY IN COURT New Americaville, Mars--Morton Fields, known to friends simply as "Mort", finally went before a judge here in New Americaville, to determine guilt in the household accident which resulted in eight lawnmowers becoming permanently attached to his body. "The question here," the judge commented during recess, "is not so much who is at fault, but how Mort will cope with having eight lawnmowers stuck to him for the rest of his life." Mr. Fields' lawyer had no comment, but close friends admitted that the lower gravity on Mars would limit damage awards, as the lawnmowers weigh considerably less here than on Earth. MOTORIZED LOONY BINS A HIT Walkerton, Illinois--Folks here in Walkerton couldn't be happier that Killfore Toys, Inc., a local company, has a hit on its hands with its Motorized Loony Bin. The toy is a small model of a loony bin with all sorts of crazy little puppets inside, all of which move about being nuts using the power of electricity, stored in the form of replaceable alkaline batteries. What of the fears raised by the cultural elite, that the toy is against the mentally ill? Local sheriff Joe Man sums up the community's feelings on this matter--"F*ck them." *OW* [[10011SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 81 Ever thorn, and in embrace? I wander peril and portray the spray of ice in vapor form. Through gates of bread do jumpy ravens dance like laborers and bite. And if you want it down those stairs you have to do a dream in a gym class of old. SUPERIOR 82 Canada was it, give me a taste of the yogurt of patriotism set aside. Lending odd junkiness in earnest debate, wrong a dufus in Colorado. With me, the omni tyrant, things abounding. But in times, get it. SUPERIOR 83 A little hole in the base of a pole at the mall at a food court. What state? What matters! Utah, Cleveland, Minnesota, Philadelphia--all exit caution, all embrace life. So try and eat grand in glass area, of amusement park or museum. And bears and deer wander close. SUPERIOR 84 Driving, night rain, city in distance, below. Tropic trip impending. Gore, girls who're excellent all around, the concert awaits. Into the night, stopping at colorful overarcades, thrill and ultrathrill. Finally there, and the reality surpasses the fantasy. From here on, things just kept getting better and better for real. SUPERIOR 85 Okay, it was truthful, the many hammering tongue-buys slend of Carhplo. Follow down hallways the inviso heroes you adored, for the someday old memory bookstore and naked ladies in books and everything, and a big bright thunderstorm. I can't grasp some of this, but what the ever. SUPERIOR 86 On transit like a narcotic would love to flick North America. Arctican rail phase deploy yes, Florida train to Toronto yes. Quebec City train station, dawn. Ho yogurt and coffee yes, damn Vancouver. Canada rail idiot, too much money yes. The American West yes rail. Railwhy the last, eh? No, the stores're okay--mags, candy. Lorforflor college 70's radio. Kindred spirit girl your lust, why? Most are morons I said. Stupid York New nothing. SUPERIOR 87 Clobber the job dumb. Me, I'm a one, not in Florida at all. I am great, the greatest, she said. Me, I talk of the girls I've perhapsed. Two and am quite amused asses. A few for now, let me say, I am not something okay. SUPERIOR 88 Focus. In the realm of do, time travel is the coolest. Give me a fine lass and no stupidity. I'm no damn imbecile anymore. Words express the day. Being a nerd wasn't all that fun but I'm glad I was one. Is this a new beginning? *OW* [[11011SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR 11: "Fabric Reactor" "Hey, who's this sneakin' around here?" said Granticaine Chug Perion, spotting Daptin lurking near the entrance to the Overwhelm administrative offices. Daptin turned to face Granticaine. At least six-foot-six, Granticaine sported long brown hair which fell halfway down his back, and a blue and brown variation on the uniform he had worn in war. The guy was smiling, but all Daptin could think of was the videotape Granticaine had shown him once. It showed him slaughtering enemy troops with an enormous chain saw, and then, after his chain saw had run out of gas, how he faced President Emmerdine and took 30 rounds in the chest from the President's semiautomatic pistol. After that, he grabbed the President and with horrific grace spun him around and ripped the leader's left arm off, then wielded the arm like a baseball bat and bashed the President in the head. The fury went on for several minutes, and all that was left after that was a room full of blood and body parts. Breathing heavily, Granticaine slowly turned around and faced the camera. "Next." was his only utterance. The camera hit the ground as the camera crew turned and ran. This was shown live across the world, and though condemned by some, Granticaine's rage against this dictator was the rage of the world, and his actions were a hearty catharsis to the long war. At that moment, his prior nickname, "Good Ole 494" was superseded by "Splatterlord". "Huh?" Daptin said. "Speak of the Devil!" Grant said. "We were just talking about you the other day. We wondered whatever became of our favorite Quality Scout, Daptin Gone." "I uh, I've been around, y'know." Daptin said. "I gather you have." Grant replied. "So how're thing around here, Grant?" Granticaine clasped his hands together in front of himself and looked around. "Oh, good. Good. Fife's still not a very skilled strategist, but that's forgivable. You missed another recruitment round, a few weeks back. And there were a few babes you really missed, eh? Nice ones. Maybe you'll encounter 'em in your next round." Daptin leaned against a wall and sighed. "I uh, I don't, I'm not sure if there'll be any more rounds. At least not for the time being. I mean, I'm not really here for, y'know, like to come back into full service or anything, I mean--I have some stuff to sort out back..." Granticaine took a few steps toward Daptin. "You quittin'?" "Huh? No. I'm just in the middle of like a vacation, but I'm back here just for a little while. I mean..." "So you're still on our side, then." "Yes, Definitely. My current, uh, concerns have nothing at all to do with Aconck." "Oh no? What have they to do with?" "Nothing." Granticaine turned away from Daptin. "I don't want to intrude in your affairs, Daptin, but you've always seemed a decent fellow. If you need some assistance, you need but ask." "I uh appreciate that, Grant." Granticaine turned back to face Daptin and unclasped his hands. "In truth, it's gotten very tedious and boring here at Greatwall. Fife's got his head up his ass and he's stalling, while Thewsike gobbles up Earths all on the outer. I want some action, man." "Heh. I know what you mean. That's part of the reason I took my leave of absence, I mean, I--I mean, there are things in this universe to do besides worry about Aconck, you know? I mean like, y'know, like friends and family and things. Good friends." "Friends, yes, surely. But family, Daptin? In family, I can't say I've had much experience. Personal experience that is. My fellow freedom fighters, my fellow Drampticans, all fine folks, but not real, true family. One thinks of such matters cooped up here on this alien world." "Yeah." Daptin said, distracted in thought. "I guess I've been lucky to have such a sort of stable family." "Indeed ye have, man." Daptin looked down. "I like, I mean, like you offered to help me if I needed it. And y'know, this being Overwhelm and all, I mean, if anyone else had said it to me, I think I'd've thought they were, like, having something devious in mind. But, I don't know why, but I think I can trust you. You strike me as someone I can trust." Daptin looked up and tried to read Granticaine's expression, but it was the same strong bemused glare as usual. "You can trust me, man. I've about had it with these flounders around here, and you know my word is my law. Also, if you have something challenging in mind, I'm more than game!" Daptin took a deep breath and held both his hands up. "This is like, so f*cking intense. I mean, I have this thing I have to do, but I don't know where to begin, like, explaining it. I mean, it's like extremely dense. I mean, like it's so--" "--Daptin, I feel you have a worthy challenge in your mind, but let us retreat to a more secure area to discuss it, eh? To whit, someplace far from Aconck tech, if you get my drift." Daptin sighed and nodded his head. "Yeah." Granticaine looked around and then the two heard a crashing sound, followed by a pudgy little green faery running from around the corner and into Granticaine. "Hide me! Hide me!" the little faery yelped in a high-pitched wail. "Away with ye!" Granticaine exclaimed as he backed away. "The faery problem?" Daptin asked. "Aye." Granticaine said. "They can't seem to keep order around here." The faery clutched its belly with its hand and let out a delirious and exaggerated laugh while waving its other hand in the air. "Shut the f*ck up!" Daptin said. With this, the faery shot up and through the ceiling near fast as a bullet. "And Treyess thinks this is all such a joke." Granticaine said. "Dude, that was pretty severe. I mean, c'mon." All of a sudden Supple Jake, a woman with black hair and harsh hippie poetry garb, came bounding around the corner. "Where is that little bastard!" she said. "Through the ceiling." Granticaine said, looking up. "Hmph!" Supple Jake grunted. "Hello Jake." Daptin said. "Huh? Oh hello there Daptin. Where ya been?" "Around." "Haven't we all, hey? Now I must kill these faeries. You guys wanna help?" Granticaine put his arm around Supple Jake's shoulder and started to lead her away, his massive form making her look like a small child. "We'd love to help now, Jake, but we have business. Business, hey? I suggest you check upstairs." Jake looked up a Grant with a sort of dreamy smile. "Good idea Grant. Good idea." "Thank you." Jake started to walk away, but Daptin called after her. "Hey uh, Jake. Don't tell anyone you saw me just yet, okay? Okay?" "Okay Daptin! I didn't see ya! Got it!" Jake said as she left the two. "Man this place is messed up since I left." Daptin said. "Quite so, Daptin. And the thing is, if a few locals see faeries, they'll be disbelieved as loons or liars or indulgerists. But if a lot get out, then there'll be no denying it, and I don't think Overwhelm Associates wants to get into anything here on Mate P." "That's right." Daptin said. "Now come along, we can take the superway down to Ostandon and get some strong tea and fend fruit and talk all about this problem of yours." "Um, sounds good to me." "But let's cool any serious conversation till we're there--the tech here gets up exponentially these days. You gotta see the new fabric reactor they got--it's hot." After a twenty-minute ride in light rain on the superway, which runs parallel to Greatwall, Daptin and Granticaine got to Greatwall at Ostandon and went inside. On the way, Granticaine told Daptin a story about how the press virtually ravished him after the end of the war. "Let's just go here." Granticaine said, walking toward a Hello Tarby (a chain restaurant popular along Greatwall). "Fine by me, Grant." As the two entered, they looked around. "I think we can just take the table over there." Granticaine said. They went over and sat at the table. It was midday, and the place wasn't very busy. "I always feel so uncomfortable just hanging out at the Wall." Daptin said. "They don't have Arcticans here, and with this green hair of mine, everyone must think I'm some sort of radical student protester or something." "Oh come now, Daptin. You're probably just imagining it. You don't have it near as bad as some of the hairies, like Vladimir Bonk or Caffeine. And poor Pantry Lurkin, he sticks out like a sore thumb. We try to dress him up as a little kid, but it's never easy." "I guess. It's just that, y'know, being Arctican in Baskonontana is like tough enough. All the jokes and stuff. But travelling to so many different Earths, I guess it's just like green hair isn't so popular anywhere." "I wouldn't worry about it Daptin. And, if I'm not mistaken, isn't there a green-haired character in The Essex of Toal Tarby? I see representations of her around quite a bit." "I think so, Grant, but it's a woman and stuff, and wasn't it like in a vision or something? I don't know. I could hardly get through his book. I mean, I know it's like these people's Bible, but it seems a little silly to me." "Personally, I found it a fun work, but hardly something to build a civilization upon. This is a damn fine Earth though, compared to the multitude I've visited myself. Nice and peaceful, and that's what matters, I'd say." "Uh-huh." "Hey! Hostess! May we order?" A waitress carrying a tray full of empty plates and glasses turned to the two. "Uh, be with you guys in a minute. Okay?" she said as she disappeared into the kitchen. "Hey, she's a hot one now, hey pal?" Granticaine said. "Damn nice." Daptin said, thinking of Spanking New Sarah and whether or not he'd ever be in her bed with her again. He also thought of Fluffy Netherf*ck, his friend Tanner's goddessfriend, and wondered what she was like in romance. Granticaine put on a neutral smile and looked out the window into the main corridor of Greatwall at Ostandon. In the distance, a band began playing a Toal Tarby-based folk song. "Man, these folks are so obsessed with Toal Tarby." "Well, this is the whole basis of all of Greatwall. I see it as an interesting impetus to construction. Greatwall is undeniably one of the most fabulous structures in all of known Aconck. I say, whatever the motivation, it must be good to result in such a wonder as the place we're sitting in now." "I guess. But it's like, Adanden is totally covered and guarded. Under glass. And artificially preserved. I mean, if Toal Tarby does ever return, what would he think?" "Well Daptin, if I were him, I'd be very pleased with what was conceived of in my honor." "Yeah. I don't think he'll be coming back, though. I mean, people just use him to increase their business. I don't think many people believe in the whole thing at all." "No? Let's find out." Granticaine said as the waitress, a pretty young woman with a conservative blond Mohawk, approached the two. "You ready?" she asked. "Yes, but I have a question for you--do you believe that Toal Tarby will return, and if so, when?" Granticaine asked. "What, are you guys from TV?" the waitress asked. "No, we're just, eh, foreigners curious as to what you Greatwallers really think about all this Toal Tarby stuff." Granticaine said. "Well, I don't live here. I grew up in Ostandon, but out in the suburbs. I'm no Waller. I mean, I work here and everything. But I don't know. It's a nice idea, him returning. I mean, the whole telephone thing is, well, it's interesting. So I don't know. I guess I don't really care either way." "See?" Daptin said. "It's just one person!" Granticaine replied. "Whatta you guys think? And where are you from anyway, Coipte-Cross?" "Heh heh, no. But a long ways away, at that." Granticaine said. "I just think this whole thing, with Tarby and everything, seems a little silly to an outsider." Daptin said. "I guess." the waitress replied. "So what can I get for you?" "Okay." Granticaine said. "How about the full fend fruit entree, and several strong teas, hot and cold. Okay Daptin?" "Fine." "That's it? Okay, it'll be just a few minutes. And try not to worry about our local customs too much, okay?" "Okay, Sleap." Daptin said, looking at the waitress's nametag. Sleap looked down at her nametag, smiled, and strode back to the kitchen. "Rather friendly of you, Daptin old fellow." "What can I say? I'm a friendly guy." "Yes." Granticaine was fiddling with a little card thing on the table announcing a special deal on some sort of potato product. "So Grant, you wanna hear the whole--I dunno--the whole deal here, with the thing I need to do and stuff?" "Okay." "Well, I mean, okay. I think I can trust you. I just wanna, y'know, be clear on like, that this is all in confidence. I mean, you'll see soon enough the nature of what it is I'm gonna tell you, so like, I wanna, I just wanna know that you'll keep it, y'know, in confidence and stuff." "Daptin, I am a man of my word, as you well know. And I give you my word that what you tell me will be in the strictest confidence." "Okay good, that's all I needed to hear. Anyway, I guess I'll just spill my guts. Back on Red Alley Earth, where as you know Bavler Bestroystraw began Aconck, there is, how can I put this--there is a place where these gods live. And I'll tell you, if you're familiar with Bavler's writings, you know about Sweptim. Well, I think I may have discovered the remnants of Sweptim. I mean, they claim they've been there for all time, but I have serious doubts. Now, no one else in Aconck knows about this--just me. And now, I guess, you too." Granticaine looked very serious as he tried to let the information sink in. "Go on." "Okay. There are five cities, connected to each other and to Red Alley by standing bridges. I mean, they're definitely bridges, but they're permanent, but very stable. Apparently, they're concealed by advanced situation claying, far more advanced than anything we have in Aconck. And their tech is also far beyond ours, although they just have old stuff--nothing new. Anyway, Grant, see, I was, when I was visiting my friends at Thatterine College, where I went, they told me about this place called Agoopish, and then they just, like, took me out to this abandoned area and then like, we were just in this weird city." "And these friends of yours--they know nothing of Aconck?" "No. I was thinking of telling a few people, but I didn't. I mean, it was weird. They were expecting me to like totally flip out, but really, I was like, big deal guys, I've been to hundreds of other worlds. But like, I tried to make like I was totally shocked and stuff. But this is a definite thing, that the two worlds, I mean Avert and Aconck, are separate. I mean, think about what the companies would do if they knew about it? All sorts of new armaments and tech, and a lot of potential operatives in the Avert mortals. And the potential for reopening Sweptim--y'know--it could destroy all of everything we know. So like, you can see where I'm coming from." Granticaine took a deep breath and rubbed his chin in deep thought. Sleap the waitress came out with a tray full of strong teas and fend fruit. "Here y'all go." she said, setting all the stuff down. "Thanks." Daptin said. "Still contemplating the absurdities of Greatwall?" she asked. "Yeah." Daptin said. "It's a strange world out there. A lot to see. A lot to see." "I know what you mean. I've always wanted to travel more. It seems like so many people ignore the world outside of Greatwall. It's like, let's go to Porbe, let's go to Goal, it's all the same. There's a whole world out there! But who'll listen?" "Yeah. Travel's great." Daptin said, a little impatient as he could see Granticaine chomping at the bit to ask him about what he had just revealed. "Yeah. I don't know. People here are just so used to Tarby and the Return of Tarby. I mean, just look at this place, Hello Tarby. It's like there's so much else out there besides all this, but..." "I know what you mean." Daptin said. "So much out there, and like, so little time and stuff to do it." "Yeah. Well, gotta get the register. Enjoy!" Sleap said as she brightly walked away. "Ah, strong tea. My favorite thing about Mate P." Granticaine said. "This weird fruit ain't bad either." "Not bad at all." Granticaine said, taking a bite out of an oblong peeled blue citrus. "Now Daptin, I must tell you. I read a lot and I've become quite conversant with Bestroystraw's works and related materials, and I have to say that if you're right, we're faced with a dilemma." Granticaine finished off the fruit with a loud slurp. "I'm just telling you what I know. I could be wrong." "I realize that, but from what you're saying, I think you may have something. But tell me, beyond all this, what is this mission you referred to before?" "Okay. I had become what in Avert they term a mortal, which means I can handle their bridges and use their tech. They had sent me on my first official mission, they being The Caxopy Group, a small mortal organization. Anyway, they had us, me and my friend Fake Cerquaine, go on this mission with this cup of coffee to rescue this girl who was like trapped inside the cup. Anyway, to make a long story short, they lied to us and we wound up in this totally f*cked-up place, and we were attacked by this gang, and I ate some goodbye popcorn, a piece of their tech, which makes you not exist for awhile." "They have tech popcorn?" "Yeah. All sorts of stuff--you gotta see it. Anyway, apparently it didn't work there and I was like totally eradicated. Then like, I mean, if I'm telling you this I may as well tell you about Obfuser. He's an Ultra Occult Entity, and he like saved me since I was like dumped out by reality like billions of years later. So he returned me here--that's how I got back. So I have this cup of coffee, and I need, just to, y'know, rescue my friend Fake, and maybe, y'know, figure out things with the Caxopys, I mean, deal with why they did this to us." "Well Daptin, it sounds like a mission I can certainly help you with. What exactly is the course of action, or do you even know?" "It's like, Obfuser told me to drink some of the coffee and go through a bridge, and then I'd get back to that world where I left from, and to stay with Fake until the coffee in my system took us back to the cup, which I'd leave back at Greatwall. But like, we'd need to fight off that gang." "I see. Did they seem formidable?" "Oh man. Formidable? Forget it. They creamed us, and we were armed to the gills. No, they're definitely a force to be reckoned with." "I see. Perhaps we should bring my whole team, if you feel comfortable letting them in on this." "Well yeah, but like, I mean, do they need to know everything? I mean, we're going to some undefined world, and then back to Greatwall, so like, if they do come, could they like..." "Don't worry Daptin. They'll understand if things aren't entirely explained to them. And frankly, they're so anxious to see some action, I doubt if they'll have many questions." "Good. I just hope old Provocation Team D is up to the challenge." "Daptin, you know we're competent. In fact, we're far too competent for the use Fife is putting us to. I've been so serious about forging a lethal fighting team, it's taken me a long time to realize that Fife and the others are far too disorganized to need such services. No, I think something like this is just what we need." Granticaine drank a whole glass of cold strong tea and put it down. Daptin wondered, in light of what Granticaine had just said, if it was wise to reveal the whole story to him, since Avert wasn't directly involved. But he was relieved that the burden of being the sole holder of the knowledge of Aconck/Avert was lifted from him. And Grant and his little team might be useful backup in confronting the Caxopys. "Well, at least with all this weird universal stuff going on, there's still nice, stable places like this." Daptin said, holding a cup of tea and looking down into it idly. "Stability seems to be the norm in my travels. It's funny, one might expect a lot more disorder than is commonly seen in Aconck. Perhaps it is that the original formulae derived by Bestroystraw favor stable worlds. I don't know." "Well like, if you ever like get to see Agoopish and stuff, man, you'll see disorder in action, like, in full force, y'know." "This whole world of the gods you describe is extremely interesting, Daptin. I hope you'll truly consider taking me to this place." "I think, y'know, I think we can do that. It's just, y'know, I don't wanna make it like a big scene, y'know? I don't wanna open like the floodgates between these two worlds. Aconck and Avert are like, y'know, like oil and water or something. They don't--or won't--mix." "Well, with what we know of Sweptim, if these are the survivors, I'm sure they'd react pretty violently to the news that their old interconnection of Earths has been resurrected, even given that Bestroystraw claims to have overcome the deadly flaw in the Sweptim formulae." "I dunno, Grant. It's just like, it's like being there, there's so much that seems hidden. I don't know. Like, I mean, there's just so much, uh, I don't know..." "You know many goddesses there?" Granticaine asked, stirring a spice into some hot tea. "Huh? I uh, well, I mean there's lots and lots of goddesses there. And like, for some reason I had access to the god community right away. I guess it's because I'm a mortal there, but I dunno. I seems sort of, almost, suspicious. I don't know. But like, yeah, I knew a number of goddesses. I mean, I know them. I do plan on going back." "Are they nice?" "Nice? Yeah! They're amazing. I mean, you like get buzzed and tingle all over just being near them. It's really weird. That's one reason I doubt the Sweptim thing--they really do seem to be like, I dunno, like deities." "Hmm. I'd like to see what this is all about. I've long suspected that there's a lot more going on than just Aconck, and it looks like my patience has finally found fruit." "Yeah." "Found fruit not to be confused with fend fruit, eh?" "Heh heh, no." Granticaine took a big bite out of a piece of fruit and looked again out the window. "So Daptin, what sort of framepoint are we looking at for this mission of yours? Is it time-sensitive?" "Um, well y'know, that a pretty good question. Obfuser didn't make that part very clear. In fact, he didn't make much of anything clear." "Is this Obfuser fellow contactable?" "Um, generally no. I have been able to get him to show up on a few occasions, but there were special circumstances involved." "Hmm." Granticaine said, nodding. "I mean, I know very little of the physics of the matter. I assume time is running pretty much equiv between here and there. I guess he put me back a little while after I disappeared. And at this point..." Daptin looked down for his watch, only to find he wasn't wearing it. "Need the time?" Granticaine asked. "Yeah." Granticaine flipped up a portion of his collar to reveal a clock which appeared to be embroidered into the fabric. "It's a little after 3:30." "That thing actually works?" "Yeah. I know it seems unlikely, but the underlying mechanism is actually quite simple." "Hm. Well, I guess that if I include a lag time for the popcorn, like say two hours, and the time since I got back, I'd say it's been something like four or five hours since I left Fake in that weird place." "I see. But I'm curious, why didn't you let the girl escape before you?" "Well, I dunno. She was like, I mean it was a real tense situation. It was like a split second thing. If I had offered her the popcorn, she might not have taken it. I mean, I took a real risk doing that, and I almost got erased. So I mean, like, it didn't even cross my mind. I thought I could get the cup of coffee away from the situation and hope things had, like, improved when I got back." "I see. And what makes you think this gang hasn't slain your friend by now? Or captured her and taken her back to their base of operations?" "I don't know. Obfuser seemed to think it'd be pretty easy to get her back." "Well, from my perspective, we're walking into a very unsure situation. I would like more time to prepare, but unfortunately, from what you've described, time is our enemy. I think I'll call Mallie and have the team assemble in a set location. Do you need to get anything from Greatwall?" "Yeah! I have a lot of stuff there. And like, I mean, I have to keep the cup of coffee in my apartment, and after I drink it we have to go though a bridge right away. So I mean--" "--I can't afford to build a bridge unannounced at the base. We have to be far away, as they'll monitor it. And they might follow after if they don't like what they see." "But after I drink the coffee, we might fall out off this world at any time." "Then what does the bridge have to do with it, Daptin?" "Well I guess--I mean, he said that it was too loose here to fall out normally, I mean..." "So what is it? Does the bridge do it or not?" "Yeah! But we can't cross so much space, or it might start right then." "So? If it starts, fine! The purpose of the bridge is to transport us to this world, right? I assume the coffee will alter the nature of the bridge." "No, it's not quite like that, Grant. It's like, he said, Obfuser said that one travels cupward, whatever that means. He implied that the state of reality, I think like the ratio of situation to reality, has to be tight to travel this way. On a regular Earth it's too loose. In Avert, it's so tight it's almost instant. And apparently, the act of bridging creates a tight ratio. So I don't think it even matters where the bridge is to, not that there are so many options along the wall." "I see. But I maintain that we must bridge in an area as far from the base as possible. Do you think the coffee will last a trip to, say, Goal?" "I guess so, but it's just so, I dunno. It seems like almost a waste of time. If we're totally gone, they can't follow us anyway." "Daptin, humor me on this one. If we start to travel before we get to Goal, then all the better. Okay?" "Alright. And I mean, I'm not trying to be difficult, it's just that, like, I wanna do this right." "We will do it right, Daptin. We will." After finishing the meal, Granticaine paid the bill and as they were leaving the Hello Tarby, Granticaine found a little business card attached to the receipt with a note scrawled on the back, reading "Greenie--every Faprintarb, Copanck Center Basement NE, occult meeting--try it! Hope I see ya there--Sleap Drassy." Granticaine looked over and saw that Daptin had not seen the card, so he carefully placed it in a little pocket on his sleeve. At first glance, he thought the note was for him, but upon seeing the reference to "Greenie", he realized it was to Daptin. There was something special about this Sleap Drassy, and he definitely wanted to keep the key to getting to know her better. Besides, his mind was racing trying to cover all the angles on what Daptin's motivation might be for telling him all these things and recruiting him for this mission. Was Daptin telling the truth, or was it a scam of some sort? Was he being manipulated? Granticaine continued to ponder this issue, as well as when the hell Faprintarb was. Another of Toal Tarby's gifts to this Earth was a cute scheme of giving each of the 42 four-hour segments of time in a week a specific name. Faprintarb was one of these, but he'd have to look it up. "So what exactly are we doing?" Daptin asked, as the two walked along the promenade of Greatwall at Ostandon. "Well Daptin, I have decided on a course of action, and before we begin, I want you to agree on it. I propose we go back to Overwhelm, where you can make the preparations you need to make, and I can round up the team. When we're ready, you can drink the coffee and we'll take the superway up to Goal. I know it's a long trip, but believe me, we have to keep Overwhelm out of this, and Goal is a good place to bridge in and out of because of all the activity there. Then, if indeed we begin to travel in this cupward direction you referred to, we'll deal with things as they come, with our objective being the rescue of your friend Fake, and the safe return of us all to Greatwall. Any additional matters, such as visits to Avert, will be dealt with at a later date. Agreed?" "Yeah. I still don't know why we can't just go out into the woods of Cagapin and do it, but if this is the way you want to do it, I accept your judgment." "So it's agreed then?" "Yeah. Agreed." "You sure you don't need some rest before we go, Daptin?" "No, I feel fine. I guess technically I haven't slept for billions of years, but as far as my circadians go, it's, y'know, like midday." "Good. And Daptin, know that I have given you my trust. This is not something I do lightly. So please keep in mind that in a mission such as this, a time may come when you will need to give me your trust in a split second. I hope you'll keep this in mind." "Hey man, no problem." A few hours later, Daptin and Granticaine were on the superway heading up to Goal, along with the other three members of Provocation Team D--Wreckage Mallie, Pantry Lurkin, and Iterator of Rail Avenue. Granticaine had rounded his fellows up but didn't tell them very much, except that there was an emergency mission which was not under the authority of Overwhelm Associates, but also did not deal with OA's sphere of activity. Daptin geared up with his mortal supplies which he had left behind for his meeting with Granticaine. He also performed the daunting task of drinking from the cup of coffee, which he decided to do quickly without freaking himself out too much about it. He found that the lid came off quite easily, and that the coffee was about the best he ever tasted. In short, it seemed like a freshly poured cup of excellent coffee. He had drunk about four or five mouthfuls of the stuff before he felt he had enough in his system. Afterward, however, he felt very weird, and he couldn't tell if it was just a psychosomatic response to having done such a bizarre thing, or a real effect of having 40,000-year-old coffee in one's stomach and bloodstream. "It's a nice area up here." Wreckage Mallie said, looking out the window at the sun setting over the hills which run parallel to the northern section of Greatwall. Mallie was an athletic sort with very short black hair which bristled. He wore a gray sweatshirt with tan rough pants, and carried a duffel bag with a gun and a pipe inside. "Hee hee nice indeed. Big nice land, I agree!" said Pantry Lurkin, an odd little faeryish fellow, not even three feet tall, trying his best to pass as a midget, but attracting scores of stares nonetheless. He wore a diminutive red plaid shirt and a pair of tiny blue jeans, which looked ridiculous on his spidery frame. On his sharp face was a black mustache, and though he tried to hide them, his pointy ears always managed to see the light of day. Also, he insisted upon wearing his blue cap with its two long and droopy black feathers. "What's that thing over there? A water tower? I saw it before." said Iterator of Rail Avenue, a woman of average build with short, very light brown hair, who wore a suit of tan and brown with a lot of complex layers, cords, buttons, connections, etc. She was a quiet sort, never asserting herself very much, and seeming sad all the time. "Um, I don't know, Iterator." Daptin said. "I've seen it a couple of times too. Is it something from the Essex maybe? I dunno." Iterator of Rail Avenue looked over at Granticaine with a sort of longing look. "Uh Daptin, it's a small point, but as you might remember, Iterator of Rail Avenue likes to be referred to by her full name, the full Iterator of Rail Avenue." said Granticaine, shifting in his seat to try and hide Pantry Lurkin, who was looking out the window and acting hyper, from a group of college students across the train who seemed fascinated by the little fellow. "Sorry." Daptin said to Iterator of Rail Avenue. "I remember you saying that, but I kinda thought you were joking. I didn't see much of you on my Quality Scouting." "Well it's okay, but it makes no sense unless you say the whole thing. Just saying Iterator is meaningless. It sounds totally wrong." said Iterator of Rail Avenue. "Okay. Iterator of Rail Avenue it is, Iterator of Rail Avenue." Daptin said. "Thanks." "Yeah, and where did that name come from anyway?" Daptin asked. "I could tell you but we don't have time." Iterator of Rail Avenue said. "Her is an odd tale, indeed." Granticaine said. "Oh, hee hee!" Pantry Lurkin said with an evil grin, turning to face the group. "A silly silly odd tale, a wonder! Weird mystery, the super duper duper doo!" "Now this feller," Granticaine said, "this feller you can call just Pantry, as he misses his, the one he lurked in for such a time." Pantry Lurkin sat back in his seat, and closed his eyes with an exaggerated smile on his face. He remained so for several moments. "Stop it Pantry, you scare me when you act like that." Iterator of Rail Avenue said. Pantry Lurkin's eyes shot open, and he began to giggle under his breath hysterically. "I think some of those alien faeries got into his system." Granticaine said. Pantry Lurkin instantly stood up on his seat and pointed his finger toward Granticaine, with his arm fully outstretched. "Oh no--not them!" the strange little fellow said, with a mockingly serious look on his face. "You're weird." Iterator of Rail Avenue said. With this, Pantry Lurkin pointed his finger at Iterator of Rail Avenue for a few seconds. And then in a flash sat down again and held his knees tightly to his chest with his arms wrapped around his knees, and stared weirdly at Iterator of Rail Avenue. "I'm glad to see you have such stable people on your team." Daptin said to Granticaine. "He's just like my little brother." Wreckage Mallie said. Pantry Lurkin shifted his stare to Mallie. "A total hyper spaz. He can't sit still." Mallie continued. With this, Pantry Lurkin pointed his tiny index finger skyward and noisy multicolored sparks started to gather above it. A few of the college students got up to see what was making the noise. Granticaine looked calmly over at the students and then gently put his hand on Pantry Lurkin's back. "We're on the train, Pantry. It's a public place." Granticaine said in an even, relaxed tone. The sparks stopped, but Pantry Lurkin kept his finger in the same position. The train lurched to a halt, and the students sat back down. "Uh, we have a stop signal." a voice said over the intercom. "We'll be moving shortly." The five individuals sat silently for several moments. Finally, Mallie spoke. "So can you tell us more about the mission now, Grant?" "I think we may be far enough away from Cagapin." Granticaine said, but then things changed. For a few moments, it was as if there were two or three superimposed images of the five in the same space, and it got totally silent. "What's happening now?" Iterator of Rail Avenue said, bracing herself against her seat. Pantry Lurkin jumped up to again stand on his seat, looking back and forth with a wide smile. "It's the coffee." Daptin said. "The coffee. The coffee. It's that we're falling off this Earth now." "How should we do it?" Mallie asked, getting disoriented. "Do nothing!" Daptin yelled, feeling himself getting heavier and heavier. "Just sit still. Do nothing!" Suddenly, all that could be seen was a close-up view of a wooden statue of a cannon, in an ornately adorned room. A musty odor came, along with the sound of a distant jet airliner. "What kind of is this!" Wreckage Mallie could be heard to say, ever so faintly. "Wait for the." Daptin said through clenched teeth, then lost consciousness. "Does it please your myselfness?" Iterator of Rail Avenue blurted out. All was dark. Soon Daptin awoke, dazed, to find himself and his four companions strewn about the edge of a tank in a water treatment plant. The others were stirring. Pantry Lurkin propped his head on his hand, his arm propped on the ground. "I like this mission." the imp said. *OW* [[12011AX]] Appendix Confused? Here's Everything You Need to Know! (This information is reprinted every issue in essentially the same form.) 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). 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! This Appendix is located at the end of the file because it contains boring, repetitive info you wouldn't want in your way. 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. 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* [[END011OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----