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|| -------- -- ----- 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 020--12/8/94 <------- || OsoaWeek || Issues || Book 2 || -------> (Cup OWis020, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN020OW]] [[01020CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 2 0 * * * December 8, 1994 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora INSIDE THIS ISSUE! Get ready for another journey into the unreal! "Disclosure" is an awesome film! I finally see "Gone With the Wind" Mass Molecular Destabilization Eight-Trillion Tons of Pollen What is Obliviana World? Post-Sushi Pepsi Three-Can Jackharpy Stupid University Memorandums "The Real Comedy of Skip Stephenson" Thing Ping Rovlanlampians --> Do download, dude! (Permission is granted to make complete, verbatim, digital ASCII copies of this copyrighted ezine for the purpose of free distribution. All other forms of reproduction require written permission from Frank Edward Nora.) OsoaWeek is published weekly by Obliviana Super Occult Amusement * copyright 1994 Frank Edward Nora * originating in New Jersey, USA * Contact: 1-800 OBLIVIANA/obliviana@aol.com/postal: Osoa P.O. Box 60 Iselin, NJ 08830-0060 Character count: 52117 / Line count: 1516 Catalog of Obliviana & The Table of Contents are at the very end of this file. *OW* [[02020HR]] Hemisinister Review ***MOVIES*** DISCLOSURE Much more than a reverse sexual harassment film, this Michael "Jurassic Park" Crichton film is top notch. Funny, engaging, smart, and beautifully-filmed from beginning to end, don't judge this book by its cover--I know Michael Douglas and Demi Moore make this movie look like it could be crap, but it's one of the best films of the year and a must-see. And it even has a cool virtual reality segment! GONE WITH THE WIND Until today, I wasn't sure if I'd ever seen this classic, but after spending nearly five hours watching it on TBS, I realized that I had never seen it before. Huh. Anyway, it's a really good film, with some very complex characters. It was thrilling to discover that this whole "I'll crack your skull like a walnut" was started here (I thought it was "Strange Brew"). There's a lot of stuff going on beneath the surface, and hey--Vivian Leigh was hot! Mammy was also very cool. Do rent it if you haven't seen it--you'll be pleasantly surprised. THE CLIENT Watchable, engaging, but not great, and with an anticlimactic ending. Doesn't quite deliver what it promises, but rather good overall. Has Tommy Lee Jones in it like every other movie. *OW* [[03020ZP]] Zope Today's Episode: ZOPE AND THINGS TO DO TO BUILDINGS ZOPE I want to destroy buildings. MASTER JOE Sound like a good idea to me! ZOPE But I'm bored with all the usual ways! Mind controlling Concorde pilots to crash into them, mass molecular destabilization, teleportation to the Inferno, the Giant, Really Really Giant Ostrich Egg gag--I mean, there has to be a better way! MASTER JOE How about that one where you teleport a half-inch diagonal slice of the building to Buenos Aires and the top of the building slides right off? ZOPE Yeah, but it doesn't destroy the WHOLE building, only part of it. MASTER JOE Yeah I guess you're right. ZOPE Wait a minute--I have it! MASTER JOE What? ZOPE Eight-trillion tons of pollen! MASTER JOE Um--well, it has, uh-- it has possibilities. ZOPE God f*cking dammit! You're always dissing my ideas! MASTER JOE What does "dissing" mean? What is that--slang? ZOPE Screw you. *OW* [[04020HT]] Halfevil Times ***HALFEVIL TIMES PERCEPTIONS & PONDERINGS*** EVER WONDER... ...what sort of mayhem your life would be in if you really DID keep in touch with all the people you'd like to? EVER NOTICE... ...how everyone tries to be a comedian? *OW* [[05020LA]] Lord of Obliviana Uhhhghhgh... Time for another OsoaWeek. I don't know man. Last issue, OsoaWeek019, was a real bitch to get done. It took a lot out of me. And now--a whole nother 50K+ of awesomeness that I have to produce. I don't know. But of course I shall rise to the occasion! Oh yes. I shall not let you down! No I won't! And as you can see, from your vantage point up there in the future, I have indeed created another wonderful, masterpiece-like issue of OsoaWeek. But from down here in the past, it's kind of a drag. December. Yeah alright. About a weeks later now. It's the Sunday after the Thursday this issue was supposed to be out. I really hope to get it done tonight. I mean, if I don't, it'll be a real bad portent. It's getting cold again. Last winter--earlier in 1994--New Jersey was a total weather basket case. There was solid ice on just about every road for weeks on end. I remember going into Channel Lumber and asking for an ice scraper--they just basically laughed in my face. So I'm wondering if we're in for another deep freeze. All the radio ads keep saying so--that this winter is gonna make last winter look mild by comparison. And I remember--the winter before last, there was that one BIG snowstorm, but nothing else to speak of, and for a number of years before that, the winters were extremely mild--I even remember complaining about how there's no snow anymore, like I remembered from my childhood. I should have been careful what I wished for. In case you want to know, I'm inserting this stuff about winter to inflate this issue to the 50K level--I already finished the rest of the issue. Only 244 characters to go. But you know, actually, once I had the line feeds for the DOS world, the file will be more like 51.5K, but line feeds are not content--they're just an unfortunate technological necessity. Well, with 30 characters to go, I guess this sentence will do it. And I guess this will be the shortest issue yet, though not by much. That's it, I'm there. Well, whattaya know--I'm back. Somehow, after spell-checking and suff, I lost about a hundred characters. One more sentence should do it. There. Is this stupid or what? Now, last year around this time, I got fired from a job I'd had over a year and I busted my computer--a Mac Plus. I spent several months without a computer, and wrote everything down in a big notebook. The Severe Repair episode this week, "Thing Ping" was mostly written in that notebook in late January, 1994. Check it out--it's about the circumstances of Granticaine Chug Perion's recruitment into Overwhelm Associates. Now I am moving in a new direction, and that is the "Obliviana World" project, described briefly in Nihilistica, below. What this will basically be is a computer program which will present to you the entire universe of Obliviana in one place. I plan to have the first release of it ready within a couple of months. I'm nearly completed with this issue of OsoaWeek, and it's Monday afternoon. This is the latest I've ever been with OsoaWeek. I just hope I can reverse this trend--after coming so far it would be a shame to let OsoaWeek fall apart. Well, with such pleasant thoughts in mind, I bid you farewell for another week. Have a great time, and really, Get All Obliviana! *OW* [[06020NH]] Nihilistica ***OBLIVIANA WORLD--THE NEXT LEVEL OF OBLIVIANA!*** There's so much more to Obliviana Super Occult Amusement than just text! And with Obliviana World, a multimedia project currently in development, the whole universe of Obliviana will be at your fingertips! This project has sprung from several sources. One is the need to create a reader for OsoaWeek, allowing quick, random access to any feature in any issue of OsoaWeek. Another is Ibof (Indefinite Battery of Obliviana Files). Ibof was to have been a set of files in a variety of formats. Obliviana World will contain all the same sort of files as Ibof, but collect them together into a central place where they can easily be viewed. Check out upcoming issues of OsoaWeek for more info on the incredible Obliviana World! *OW* [[07020SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 129 Years ago, flashes across your mind. Here are many, the smell of my arm after I sneeze on it. Now when I brush my hair I awaken and neutral on rain. Sleeping so well, far away, so warm and feels so good. SUPERIOR 130 Knowing, and back from the Rockaway Townsquare Mall, was the blast from wonderful that pleased me in shock and blowapart awareness. That was then, and it's been used often, and I'm dwelling on other things, and I'm not in that office anymore, and I am working. SUPERIOR 131 Foggy. Post-sushi Pepsi, pumpkin stormcloud, I am having difficulty. Shear. SUPERIOR 132 Oh my god This was not It! Whatever. Like a crab, open the window, let cold air in, rip the box apart, stab the maple, play the tape, yell at waterfalls. Three-can jackharpy. Two-diskbox yamma-joba. Yet we stand here in the rain in the junkyard in the past and worry. *OW* [[08020DH]] Dehumidifier WORDS OF WIZDUMB 3 (Fall 1986) by Mike Massotto & Frank Edward Nora When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to publish "Anything But Monday Magazine #3." So that's what we're doing. So f*ck you. Now friends, some of you were offended by last issue, some of you were confused, but rest assured that this one will be just as bad and twice as offensive as number two. We do this not for the sake of being crude, but in order to smash your heads into the wall so many times that you're finally forced to open your eyes and see the truth. We are NOMADI. We are Hope. We are the Future. We understand, however, that there are those of you who will never see the light, and a perfect example of this is the memorandum printed below. Some people could really use a sense of humor. DREW UNIVERSITY MEMORANDUM To: Mike Massotto--Box 1131 Frank Nora--Box 1248 Date: Sept. 22, 1986 From: Dean Jane Newman Stuart and Gary have pointed out that on page 4 of your "Anything But Monday" magazine, issue #2, the "Stu the Flamer" episode is making fun of them in a derogatory fashion. They have requested that judicial charges be brought against you for printing material that is harassing and offensive to them. In my conversation with the two of you, you each stated that you are not guilt of harassment. Furthermore, you indicated that you want to counter-charge that Gary and Stu are harassing you by pressing charges against you. To have all these charges reviewed, the matter will be placed before a Judicial Committee unless the four of you reach an amicable agreement prior to the date of the hearing. I will advise you of the hearing date and time as soon as it has been arranged. WORDS OF WIZDUMB 4 (November 1986) by Mike Massotto & Frank Edward Nora NOTE: We only used the word "f*ck" once in this issue. To the Editor: Dear friends at "Anything But Monday" Productions, we here at the United Little Scumbags Union of Drew University are writing to tell you how much we enjoyed your last issue. It was sick, offensive, and wrong--and we loved it. How dare you infringe your warped insensitivity on the vivacious and creative minds at Drew--nice Thesaurus. Some of the material was so wildly pathetic as to be insane--but don't worry, insanity is only a state of mind. The magazine begins to offend the majority when it offends blacks, Jews, and... women--sorry to say you left out a few. Some of our favorites we hope to see in upcoming issues: Italians, Old Battle-ax English professors, Italians (we hate Italians), and Apache pharmacists. "Anything But Monday" is offensive to anyone who respects the power of human thought and attempts to think as an intellectual--Golden Jackass Statement of the Year Award. A few things have become obvious to our little anonymous union of 666 members. Obviously there is a lack of issues on campus for your magazine to have caused so many problems. Obviously many people don't realize they are living in America (Commie scums). Obviously the administration has no clue as to what's going on in the real world, and therefore unable to handle matters more controversial than water balloons and whoopie cushions. Finally, people don't realize you guys are only human and are bound to make a few mistakes in the early going. Keep up the dirty work! Leprosy yours, Lester Maddox, Jr. President, United little Scumbags Union of Drew U. WORDS OF WIZDUMB 5 (February 1987) by Mike Massotto & Frank Edward Nora And so NOMADI Entertainment begins a New Year. We hope 1987 will be a swell year. We are turning over a new leaf, realizing that this piss-ant college isn't worth all the bullsh*t we have to put up with to bring you such high quality entertainment... for FREE, no less. We hope not to repeat our mistakes of last semester, but to come up with a whole new batch of problems, simply for your enjoyment at our expense. CONTEST! On page 7 of this issue, you will find a crossword puzzle. You will attempt to solve this crossword puzzle. You will most likely fail miserably in your attempt. But nonetheless, for those bold and deranged enough to try, we offer an array of fantastic prizes. This is no joke. Really. The first person to solve the ENTIRE puzzle correctly and bring it to Riker 123 by Monday, February 16, 1987, before midnight will win: <1> $20.00 cash. <2> A can of Spam. <3> Lipton Deluxe Pasta & Sauce (Creamy Garlic Flavor) <4> An aged bottle of P&Q Tomato Ketchup. <5> A year's subscription to Anything But Monday Comedy Magazine. <6> "The Real Comedy of Skip Stephenson" record album. Good luck! Winner to be announced Tuesday, February 17 (NOMADI Day). Special thanks to Siddharth Deva for artwork contributed to this issue. Michael Massotto Frank Nora WORDS OF WIZDUMB 6 (September 1987) by Mike Massotto & Frank Edward Nora Greetings... and f*ck you all. Just joshin'. Well folks, once again Drew University and the world in which it exists has lapsed back into a stagnate coma of apathy, ignorance, and stoicism. So we are forced once again from our peaceful coexistence with the Tibetan yogis of the Himalayas into this savage world to save it with yet another barrage of shockingly blunt entertainment. For those of you who have never heard of us or have blotted any memory of us or our crusades from your feeble minds, we are the ones responsible for the inadvertent scandals which rocked the free world throughout last year, not to mention our fine written, video, audio, and superior moral works. We are not ones to dwell on our past successes, yet instead we constantly strive to bring even greater peace, knowledge, understanding, love, beauty, and self-realization to our mass herd of lost sheep as well as a few random assh*les. So read on and be fulfilled, but beware, though by reading this material you will not be struck down by bolts from above, it can have the same effect--and as usual, we are not responsible. *OW* [[09020SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR 20: "Thing Ping" The TV flickered on and the tape began. It was an awkward moment--very, very awkward. Seen from a distance through an open door, President Emmerdine remained sitting behind his desk, but looked as if he might jump up at any moment. Granticaine Chug Perion had burst into the room moments before--pausing a second to catch his breath--even with the object of his mayhemmed advance right in front of him. Then the three-man TV crew bounded in, the crew which had been following Granticaine throughout his horrifying assault. A small TV set barely visible embedded in the President's desk showed that he was acutely aware that Captain Perion had, in the past few hours, not only verified rumors of his supernatural strength, but had easily surpassed even the most outlandish whisperings. Emmerdine glanced down at the TV set and noticed that he, himself, was now on worldwide broadcast. He flicked a glance over to the camera, then back to his TV. "I suppose." he began, slowly turning back to face the camera, "I ought to make a statement." Out of the corner of his eye, Emmerdine could see Granticaine smiling broadly, but he tried his best to ignore it. "These are difficult times for my people." Emmerdine said, holding his hands out in front of him as if pleading. Then standing up, he said "Our struggle against the tyranny of Dramptica unites us." In the next instant, an object dropped from the ceiling neatly into Emmerdine's hand--a pistol. "We judge our strength by the strength of our enemies!" Emmerdine yelled, and then began firing the pistol at Granticaine--shot after shot--spent round clinking onto the wood floor. But Granticaine stood firm, wearing a calm expression as he took bullet after bullet into his chest. Emmerdine's eyes widened, and he continued to fire, one after another. After all 30 rounds were spent, the President clicked the gun half a dozen more times before. The smile returned to Granticaine's lips. Emmerdine dropped the gun to his side and looked straight into the camera. "My fellow Rovlanlampians, we are defeated. Surrender peacefully for now." the leader said, holding his hands out again. "There will be time to continue the struggle--oonf!" Granticaine sprung forward and tackled Emmerdine just as another gun was dropping from the ceiling. The gun clanged onto the floor as Grant easily ripped Emmerdine's arm off. He shoved The President forward, and brandished the arm like a baseball bat. In another instant, Grant savagely bashed Emmerdine in his head with the arm. Emmerdine fell backwards over his desk and disappeared behind it. A moment later he emerged, a bloody mess, struggling to prop himself on the edge of the desk. Grant leapt forward and grabbed Emmerdine, lifting him partially up onto the desk. Emmerdine's lips were moving, and his bloodied eyes seemed to be pleading with Grant to listen. Grant turned his ear toward Emmerdine's lips, and nodded several times. Then the soldier made a sudden motion, and a look of surprise, then of death, passed over Emmerdine's face. Grant then heaved the President onto his desk, sand the lower half of his body. The bloody mess landed clumsily on the desk and then rolled over in front of the desk and landed with a splat. Grant then grabbed the side of the desk and shoved it aside with such tremendous force that it was propelled through a large window--resulting in a hail of broken glass. Viewers worldwide saw the camera shake as the crew tried to shield themselves from the flying shards. Granticaine, knelt down, raised his fist, and brought it down hard onto Emmerdine's dead face, and propelled it through the head and into the floor, splintering the wood into a gory mess. Then the hero lowered his head and paused a moment. The cameraman stood up and back away a little, trying to get a good shot the enemy leader's destroyed face. But then Grant looked up into the camera, an unearthly fire burning in his eyes. "Next." was the word heard round the world, a word that would soon be the latest catch phrase and T-shirt favorite. The reporters dropped the camera and sound equipment and bolted away. The sideways image of Grant kneeling over Emmerdine's ruined form remained for a few moments, then sputtered into snow and static. Granticaine clicked his remote and shut off the TV. The words Emmerdine had spoken to him--the words of a man who knew he'd be dead in seconds, were "Strip mine the blue hill in True, god." His tone had been almost mocking, challenging. Grant wasn't sure why, but he'd lied about what those words were. He told the press and his superiors that the enemy President had said simply, "My family is no part of this--do not punish them." And oddly enough, this lie almost certainly saved the life of Emmerdine's son, a military leader. "Oh, again Grant!" said one of the naked girls at either side of the war hero. "Yeah man, it really turns me on, to see you savage--so savage like that!" the other said. "I was a different person." Grant said. "I can't imagine doing that now." He was eager to discuss the matter, as the whole episode was so disturbing to him. "How did you--y'know--like rip that guy in half like that?" the girl to his left asked. "I--I had my knee to his lower abdomen, and I pushed in with my leg as I lifted him up--I did it very quickly." He paused. "It seemed like the thing to do at the time." "Hey, we were already like, beginning to accept our defeat when your campaign began. We were all watching. Everyone was watching. You were THE only hope. And a guy like Emmerdine--the only safe way to deal with him is to kill him. You ARE Dramptica, dude!." "I am Dramptica." Granticaine repeated thoughtfully. "My brothers were killed in the war. When you killed him, I felt good. You did what everyone would have loved to do. And when you looked at him--after you ripped him in half, and saw that f*cking face of his still there you splattered it into nowhere." "I felt that he wouldn't really be dead until his face was demolished. As I said, I wasn't myself." He'd met the girls at a party. He'd been in a hotel, in bed with them now for over a day-and-a-half. It was a wild little orgy, and the most amazing sexual experience Grant had ever had. But the menage a trois and the repeated viewings of his bloody campaign started to make Grant feel very dark and very powerful. But at the same time he realized that he was very uncomfortable with all of this--at least at some level. And the thing Emmerdine whispered to him. "Strip mine the blue hill in True, god." Emmerdine had said it as if he were calling Grant "god". And he was saying it with contempt, as if he were challenging Grant. Just then, the phone next to the bed rang, and Grant answered. "Hello?" Immediately, a voice like that of a documentary narrator said "There's a machine out there which just might change your life. If the phrase 'it's your lucky day' has been overused in your life, no more. Again Jake, this is very--" The voice cut off, and there was what felt like a dump truck slamming into the side of the hotel--and all of a sudden the darkness of night outside was replaced by a sunny mid-afternoon. Grant moved the phone away from his ear and looked down at his companions--the one to his left was looking up dreamily at him, but she was different. A quick glance to the right revealed the other girl also changed--apparently an identical twin to the one on his left. Both stared at him with a dreamy expression. Grant forced himself to remain calm. "What madness is this?" he asked, leaning forward cautiously, feeling the same surge of supernatural force flow through him as he had felt during the end of the war. The naked individuals on either side of him didn't move, but continued to stare. Then, he saw a twinkle of intent in the eyes of the clone to his right, and before she even began to move, Grant propelled himself backward with tremendous force, demolishing the wall behind his bed, and thrusting him halfway into the next room. He pulled himself through the hole the rest of the way and got himself into a tentative crouch, blinking and spitting dust and debris from his lips, wishing he had some clothes on. He looked around to see if there was anyone in this suite, but he saw no one. He felt confused and noticeably dizzy as he cursed the vulnerability of his nakedness. But there was something so--wrong--about the phone call and the twin strangers. And it was definitely the middle of the night, not daytime. He stood up, and ripped the sheets off the freshly made bed, and opened the door to the hallway. Immediately, he noticed it was wider than it had been before--about twice so. With the sheets draped around his massive form, Grant set off for where he remembered the stairs had been. He passed by his former suite, and saw the door was open--glancing inside, he saw the twin naked strangers up and about--one rummaging in a desk, and the other writing in a notebook. The one at the desk looked up, paused a second, and then held up a piece of stationery from the drawer. "Is this where you were before? In this hotel?" the woman said, then looking at the sheet herself, "The, uh, Haybelcord Landovaj? 1151 Main?" Grant paused in surprise. "Before?" was all he said. "This isn't Earth." the other twin said, looking up from her writing. "A dream, then?" "Not at all." the first twin said, looking at the door. "Suite 2102--is that the right number?" Grant looked at the door. "No--it was 3103. But it was the Landovaj." Grant said suspiciously, trying to figure things out. "Common." the second twin said. "When you get back, wait for my phone call." the first twin said. "My name is Supple Jake, and today is without a doubt your lucky day." "What's your sister's name?" The two were lost for words. "We're, uh, we're both the same person." the second Jake said. "I hadn't considered you might be having such a wild party." Grant looked back up and down the hallway. It was all so real, so lucid, so calm. "What exactly is the situation here?" he asked. "We'll talk in person back on Earth. Depending on your decisions, you'll be told everything." Grant thought about that, looking at the wall he had destroyed. "Sorry about my abrupt exit before--but I felt it the most prudent course of action." "Not at all. It merely confirms what the process has discovered." "Um, we're shutting down." the other said. "Okay." the first Jake said. "But I just want to verify--you ARE Granticaine Chug Perion? The war hero in all the magazines?" "I am." "Good." the first one said, pausing as if listening to an unheard voice, then looking up. "So you'll return to where you were, but remember--you will have been physically absent. We'll call as soon as we can--under an hour for sure. Anything else?" "What happened to Joy and Tapha? Are they okay?" "Your lovers? They are unaffected. But remember--they'll have seen you disappear and then reappear. If you're been using drugs or anything, use that as an explanation. Otherwise--well, who cares. No one would believe them anyway." "I don't know--the tabloids are looking for anything bizarre to say about me, after what happened. They want to make me into some sort of freak." "Shutting down--now." the second Jake said. And in the next instant Grant was standing on his bed, head brushing the ceiling, facing the no-longer-demolished wall, the sheets still draping off his shoulders. He looked down to see Joy and Tapha staring up at him in disbelief. "Where did you go?" Joy asked. "What happened?" Tapha added. "Grant looked at the lovelies, and then slowly sat down. "Tell me exactly what you two remember. We were watching the tape, and then the phone rang." "You answered the phone, and then all of a sudden, you were gone. I saw it myself--I saw you vanish!" Joy said. "My leg was on top of your leg." Tapha said. "I felt it drop." "Grant noticed the two were keeping their distance, whereas before, they had been all over him. Fear of the unknown, he supposed. He say motionless for a few moments, then clapped his hands. "Okay team, the party's over." he said, looking at each of them in turn. They looked up at him dumbly. "Get up and get dressed." he said, finding himself getting angry. "And go home." "Huh?" Tapha asked. "I said get out!" Grant boomed, and the girls got moving. "What's happening?" Joy said, crying. "I don't wanna go home! I hate it there!" Tapha whined. Grant stood up, letting the sheets drop off of him. "These matters are beyond your capacities to grasp." he said, rage boiling within him, though he wasn't quite sure why. And, walking towards the bathroom, he added, "If you're not both gone by the time I come out, well--" Grant paused, putting an evil expression on his face and taking a step forward. "You'll find out who's next!" he boomed. The girls panicked and redoubled their effort to find all their clothes. Satisfied, Grant went into the bathroom and shut the door. "What the f*ck is going on?" Tapha asked Joy. "I don't know." Joy said, finally locating her undergarments. "But I don't plan to stick around to find out." "The two continued scrambling, but then Joy stopped. "Tapha--I have an idea. Get anything you can--we can sell it to people. Just think--his clothes--his towels--the sheets we f*cked around in--you know there's gotta be some sicko willing to pay big bucks for them." "Okay." Tapha said. "But not his clothes--he'll really kill us then." "Yeah alright--but everything else--c'mon!" Grant finished his brief shower and stepped back into the room. Indeed the girls were gone--along with all the sheets, pillow cases, drinking glasses, and the like. "Bitches." Grant muttered, thankful his clothes were still there. Just as he was getting finished dressing, the phone rang. His heart raced wildly in his chest and adrenaline surged. The phone rang again. He picked it up. "Yeah?" "Hi." a male voice said. "I'm an associate of Supple Jake." "Yes?" "Is this Granticaine Perion?" "Speaking." "I assume you've recovered from your little journey?" "I'm fine--but I'd appreciate it if you'd get to the point. What the hell happened and who in the hell are you people?" "We are an organization which is interested in hiring you, and I'd like to personally set up a meeting. Beyond that, I can't tell you much else." Grant sighed. "Fine, let's meet." "It will be in a public place, of course." "My personal safety is the least of my concerns. I was in some other world before--nothing like that has ever happened to me." "I understand your position, Captain Perion, but believe me, once you've had a chance to hear my offer, everything will become clear. And I think you might like it. A lot." "That would be great." "So--we can be in Haybelcord in--uh--I guess if we take the train we can be there in about--ten or eleven hours. That'd make it..." "Around 2:00 or 3:00 AM. I'll see you at 3:00 at the Thing Ping at Lianthene Station. They're open 24 hours." "There won't be many people around. Are you sure you're comfortable with that?" "There'll be people around. There are always people around me now that I'm famous." "Good point. And we may be able to help you with that problem." "How--by making me unfamous?" "Something like that." "Whatever. One thing though--do you know the color of the--uh--oh never mind." "What?" "Nothing. What's your name, by the way?" "Oh sorry. It's Letevs Fife." "How will I know you?" "Jake will be with me--I think." "If she's not, I'm sure you'll recognize me." "I will. So I have to leave now if I'm to get there on time." "Okay." "I hope this is the beginning of a good relationship." "Me too." "Alright then, see you at three." "Goodbye." * * * Granticaine was restless waiting for 3:00 AM to arrive. He didn't have real freedom to move around, since it was almost impossible to disguise his huge form. What had he planned on doing tonight, anyway? Having more sex with Joy and her friend, drinking more booze, taking more hallway. The orgy just over left Grant feeling uncomfortable--in more ways than one. His war performance forever cast him as a freak. Maybe a hero, maybe a savior of the nation, but also someone who could shrug off high-caliber bullets and tear a man limb from limb with his bare hands. And the girls' reaction to his teleportation was the same--keeping their distance, afraid, rejecting. Emmerdine's last words, wherein he referred to Grant as a "god", struck a chord. More than a few times, Grant had wondered in indeed he WAS God. But it didn't ring true. His gut reaction was that he was something more than man, but less than God. Grant wanted to get away from revelry, so he walked around, through several parks, and took the ferry across the river. There in Aizcland he went to a bookstore and browsed around, hovering near the religion and mythology section. If this whole thing with the other world was related to his true origins, then he felt a random browsing might indeed bring him to some useful information. After not having much luck, Grant came upon a computer terminal which could search through a huge database for subjects, names, places, events, etc. He typed in BLUE HILL and began the search. Several references were found, all pointing to a passage in "Dalcoyn Hightime", an ancient text on Dalcoyn mythology. He called up the passage: "And did Lemoadus cross through a queer land very high, and he'd have explored it if he wasn't for Ooed bound, and he saw a great tree, and a web of yellow metal, and a deep blue hill, and the purest waterway, and the Lights." A deep blue hill. Well, it was something. He bought several versions of "Dalcoyn Hightime", with varying levels and sorts of annotation. He crossed back to Haybelcord, and had more uncomfortable encounters with strangers--all with that same attitude at once adoring and aloof. He'd been trying to read the Dalcoyn on the boat, but was interrupted too many times by these autograph seekers as well as those too cool to ask for an autograph. Grant was incredibly uncomfortable just wandering around the city like this, never able to escape his glassy-eyed public. He wondered how he would deal with the rest of his life being like this. He hoped that Letevs Fife's offer was as good as it sounded it might be. Granticaine had to hope, because the life he was currently living was nowhere near acceptable. * * * Finally, it was 2:50 AM and Granticaine sat at a booth in the Thing Ping, sipping a cup of good tar and waiting. His thoughts were a dark swirl, and he felt that no matter what transpired here, change was inevitable. Sooner than Grant had expected, a man entered the Thing Ping, a short man with short brown hair and a carefully-trimmed mustache. He had a weird look about him, and he carried a briefcase. He glanced around the restaurant/store and caught sight of Grant immediately. The man approached. "I'm Letevs Fife." "Pleased to meet you." Grant said, motioning for Fife to sit. "Jake couldn't make it." "I see." "She couldn't make it because there's a problem. A pretty big problem, really." Fife said, looking worried. "How so?" "Well--I was hoping you could help me. It was in your--" "--I'd be happy to help." "Yes, well, it was in your Prime Vestibule where the situation developed." "My Prime Vestibule." "Yes, Captain Perion. Your P-Vest is the place the Primate protocol-settler machine takes you when it--" "Wait--I want some simple answers before we get into the details." Fife nodded, and Grant continued. "I was teleported into a different universe earlier today. So why not begin with that." Fife looked down. "Okay." he said, looking up. "I'll give you the basics--and please--let me get through it before you start asking questions--'cause I'm sure you'll have plenty." "Sounds good to me." "Okay. This is Earth, but there are many different editions, or versions, of Earth. Each is somewhat different, but there are major similarities. They coexist in some way--we're not quite sure how." Fife paused, gauging Grant's expression, which was stony. "So--a method was developed about 12 years ago on my home Earth--Red Alley Earth--by a former colleague of mine--a method of building bridges between these different Earths. Now, once you know how to do it--building a bridge is pretty easy--but from any given point on one Earth, only one other Earth is available--and location is analogous. The thing is--if you bridge and then travel a ways--and then bridge again--you may find yourself in a different edition of Earth from where you started. There are areas of limit, you see." Grant nodded. "So, to make a long story short, we began exploring, and a few years ago I struck out on my own and discovered the Primate Algorithm." Fife eyed Grant, obviously worried as to the other's acceptance of his spiel. "Primate Algorithm?" "Yes. You see, we discovered, quite by accident, that every Earth has a Primate--an individual who is currently the most important, interesting, powerful, or whatever, on an Earth. See, we discovered a way to find each Earth's Primate. It involves stimulating reality on an Earth in the proper way, resulting in the Primate being brought to the Earth's P-Vest. This is a weird subdivision in an Earth's reality system. And we can send an agent in at the same time to ascertain the identity and location of the Primate." "Jake." "Yes--she is the main agent we use." Grant took a sip of good tar, and a waitress came over. They both ordered, and the waitress left. They were both silent for a little while. "So what do you think?" Fife asked at last. "I know you're telling the truth." "How do you know that?" "It's plainly obvious." "How? Most Primates I tell this to are a bit more skeptical than you." "So I am this world's Primate?" "You are." Grant considered this. "So what exactly is a Primate again? Not the monkey sort, I assume." "No, not at all. What it appears to be, is that in each Earth's reality system, a single person is required to be Prime--o be first--to be apart." "Why?" "We don't know. There is something of a trend among our Primates, but also a great variety." "How many?" "Primates? Right now there are 45. You would be 46." "Would?" "If you decide to join my organization." "So I have a choice." You do. If you decide not to join, however, we respectfully request that you keep all the information about us secret." "Fair enough." Fife looked down into his cup of good tar. "What the hell IS this stuff, anyway?" "Good tar? You mean you don't have it on your world?" "No." Fife said. He drank a little, and was struck with the strong flavors of smoke, licorice, and a hint of caramel. "Not bad, though." "So I am Primate here." "Yes you are. And the most high-profile Primate yet. Never before has the Primate been the most famous person on the Earth." "But doesn't that follow?" "You might think." Fife said. "But it hasn't really been the case." "What would joining entail?" "Uh-well." Fife began. "You will agree to join Overwhelm Associates and pledge your allegiance to it. You will swear to keep all our secrets, and promise never to stray away. You will be given assignments, but as time goes by, you will have more and more of a command. You'll also have to make up an excuse for those here as to why you'll be disappearing for long periods of time." "All this is acceptable to me, but I need proof and I need it now." "I thought you said you believed me." "I said you were telling the truth, as you know it. You could be mistaken." "Well, I--" "--I'll be frank. Mr. Fife. In analyzing the situation, I've determined that if you stall in proving your claim, the likelihood increases that you--or those controlling you--mean me harm." Fife looked out the window, and then back to Grant. "I can bridge us out of here, but we'll need a boat. The next Earth over in this area is ocean." "Come again?" "If I were to build a bridge right here, we'd wind up in the ocean." "It would be proof, though." "Yeah, but it would also be suicide." "This booth can float." "Huh?" "The booths here--they're designed to float in a flood." Fife began looking around. "This is crazy." "Yes it is." "And it'll draw a lot of attention." "I do that already." "But you don't understand." Fife said. "It's not like teleportation--you walk to move through the bridge--a couple of times, usually. So we'd have to move this booth into and out of the space I build the bridge in." "I can move it." "Yes, but think of the consequences, Captain Perion--war hero seen rearranging restaurant and then disappearing, only to reappear later soaked from head to toe. Don't you want to avoid that sort of publicity?" "I don't really care. I'm tired of pussyfooting around. I hate it! Let's do this. You do what you have to do, and I'll get rid of the people in the immediate vicinity." "Oh no, don't--" "--come on! I'm not gonna hurt them--I'm just gonna bribe them!" "Shew! You had me scared there." "So do what you have to do--build the bridge--and let's get the show on the road." "You really have to get the people out of here first." "Okay." Grant went over to the manager of the Thing Ping at the register, and made some sort of transaction. Soon, the manager announced the place was closing, and the few customers that had been there were on their way out anyway. Soon, the manager turned out the lights, shut the door, and locked it, with a strange glance at Fife and Grant. "What did you tell her?" Fife asked. "Nothing perverted, if that's what you mean." "Good. So look--this is crazy--but we need to clear a space large enough to hold the both of us and the booth--which I really hope floats--and space to move it in and out of the bridge." Grant heaved a number of tables and booths into a messy pile. Fife was impressed at his natural superstrength. "Okay, there you go--the space you need." "Okay, now stand beside me as I build the bridge." Grant stood back and watched Letevs as he stared intently in front of him, a wild and intent look on his face. Granticaine looked around, but saw nothing visibly different. Suddenly, however, Grant felt a weird sort of soft jolt and a little rush of air. A feeling something like electricity was in the air. "Got it." Fife said. "You may be able to see it a little--only a tiny fraction of photons get through, outside the bridge, but there should be a little bit of a shimmer." "Can you see it?" "Yes--but I'm used to it. Can you see it?" "A little. I think I see something. Now what?" "Well, we have to move inside of the bridge, and then we have to exit the bridge. At that point, we have 50/50 chance of bridging. If it doesn't work the first time, we have to keep doing it." "Okay--so I'll just shove the booth over there?" "Yes--and we have to go in to." "Okay." Grant said, shoving the booth into the bridge. As soon as he entered the space, he saw the image of an ocean twinkling in the moonlight, superimposed over the darkened Thing Ping. "Now what?" "Well--I'll sit in the booth and you push it--but be ready to be in the water!" "Okay." Grant said, taking a deep breath. "Here goes." And he pushed the booth hard out of the bridge, but he was still in the Thing Ping. "Don't worry." Fife said. "Like I said, it's 50/50 every time. Just like flipping a coin. "Okay." Grant said, getting around to the other side of the booth and shoving it back into the bridge. "So I can try again?" Grant asked. "Yup. You just gotta keep doing it till you get through." Grant took a deep breath and pushed the booth again. This time, they went through, and they fell with a splash into a chilly ocean. Grant struggled to keep his grip on the booth and he fell under the surface of the water. Luckily, the booth did float, and Fife managed to stay relatively dry. Grant spit water out of his mouth as he clambered up into the booth. "I--I guess you're legitimate." Grant said, laughing a little. Fife also laughed. "I'm glad I could satisfy you." Grant sighed and the two were overcome by the silence and calm of the place. Nothing but the ocean and the light of the moon and the lapping of the water against the booth. After a while, Fife spoke. "So what do you think?" "Let me ask you about Jake first. What was the problem with her that you mentioned before?" "Well--when she departed there was one of her, but when she returned, there were two of her. Apparently you had been having some sort of wild party." "I was with two girls, yes." "So somehow, when the process inserted Jake into your P-Vest, it wanted put her where your lover was--only thing is, there were two lovers, and hence, two Jakes." "So she remained split when she returned?" "Yes. It's pretty scary. One of her was more than enough!" Grant laughed, but then got serious again. "What is she going to do? Are both copies the same person, totally?" "I don't know. We're doing some tests, but both of them feel that they are the real Jake, and as far as I know, they are. But only one can continue on in her P-Vest capacity. So I'm afraid we're in for some difficult times with her--or rather, them." "It's weird." "Yeah. And I wanted to ask you--was there anything strange about the girls you were with? Also, I'd really like to meet them and--if it's possible--test them." "Well, they were definitely into fun. Booze and drugs and sex every which way. But beyond their low character, they didn't seem particularly interesting." "I see." "Sorry for causing all this mess." "No, no. After saving your nation from almost certain defeat, you're entitled to some fun. Heck, I've done it--had orgies I mean. When you have the power, you make it happen. But you just gotta remember to keep it under control, only do it occasionally, or else you'll start sliding down that slippery slope where it takes more and more to get you off. I've seen it happen, and it's not pretty. When you combine the hypernatural nature of Aconck with sexual perversity, you can find yourself in some pretty horrific situations." "Huh, yeah. And what is Aconck--another Earth?" "Oh no--it's the overall name we use for the universe composed of all the different editions of Earth we can visit." "I see." The two were silent for a few moment, then Granticaine spoke. "So what happens when I leave? Am I still the Primate, or does the Earth choose someone else?" Fife nodded. "We've been looking into that. It seems that different Earths deal with it differently. On a few Earths, we have gotten others into a P-Vest, but on most, the P-Vest is gonna be empty--or just pull our Primate back if he's on Earth. It's an interesting field of study." Granticaine nodded. "It's nice here." "Well, it's not so nice in certain parts of this Earth, but right here it's nice. But are you okay? Aren't you freezing?" "I'll be fine. I'm made of pretty tough stuff." Fife nodded. They drifted some more. "So Granticaine--what do you think--does Aconck seem like a place for you?" "Yes. I do agree to join your organization, pursuant to all the details being as you've represented them, and no other details getting in the way." "Agreed. So do you want to get back, or just hang out here for a while?" "It's nice here." Grant said. "I'd just like to drift for a little while more. It feels so good after the life I've been leading after the end of the war." "Fine with me." Fife said. "Just remember, as we drift here, we're tracking an analogous location back on your Earth. So we could wind up anywhere in the vicinity--a building, a busy highway, more water, you name it." "I'll be able to deal with it, whatever it is." "I can see you're going to be an essential addition to my company." "Indeed." Grant said, and they continued drifting. *OW* [[10020CO]] Catalog of Obliviana These days, when you buy a book, magazine, CD, or videotape, you get an artifact which acts as the medium for the information contained within. But as the Digital Superworld develops, more and more of the infostimulation you buy will be pure data--with no physical side, no artifact. In fact, OsoaWeek is such a formless thing--it's pure data. With this in mind, we here at Obliviana Super Occult Amusement feel that artifacts will begin to take on more meaning. And because of this, we have developed a system by which all of the Obliviana Artifacts we release have definite identity--with limited production, each item is numbered, stamped, and personally signed by its creator. The following list contains all the currently available Obliviana Artifacts. 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* [[11020CN]] Contents BEGIN 01 020 CV--Cover 02 020 HR--Hemisinister Review 03 020 ZP--Zope 04 020 HT--Halfevil Times 05 020 LA--Lord of Obliviana 06 020 NH--Nihilistica 07 020 SU--Superior 08 020 DH--Dehumidifier 09 020 SR--Severe Repair 10 020 CO--Catalog of Obliviana 11 020 CN--Contents END *OW* [[END020OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- ----- |