|| -------- -- -----  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 032--3/2/95 <-------  ||  OsoaWeek  ||  Issues  ||  Book 3  ||  -------> (Cup OWis032, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN032OW]] [[01032CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 3 2 * * * March 2, 1995 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora INSIDE THIS ISSUE! * The Most Chaotic, Disastrous Issue Ever! * VR.5--Fox's new sci-fi series. Does it suck? * Bear Migration Havoc * The Trouble with Public Braille * Holographic Characters--why? * Moths * "Zope's Bagheera Wombat" * "Doctor Zope and the Abdomen Ghoul" * The Lord and Cigars * The Couch of Excess * Farewell, Arcadian Gardens * NJ Towns--Foul Rift, Manunka Chunk, Penny Pot... * Flat Earth Hysteria * "Friend is tar monorail." * "What was the cutting was the mind thicket." * "Stormbolthouse Lunatether" * And a whole lot more! * YES PEOPLE, THIS IS WHAT YOU GOT ONLINE FOR! (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, and originates from New Jersey, USA. Copyright 1995 Frank Edward Nora . All contents by Frank Edward Nora unless otherwise noted.Phone: 1-800 OBLIVIANA E-mail: obliviana@aol.com Mail: Osoa, P.O. Box 60, Iselin, NJ 08830-0060 Character count: 52511 / Line count: 1590 The Table of Contents is at the very end of this file. For the mail order Catalog of Obliviana, send an e-mail request to obliviana@aol.com. *OW* [[02032HR]] Hemisinister Review ***TV*** VR.5 Episode One It's 8:18 and I just watched the first segment. Promising, but a little puzzling. Lori Singer is entering some sort of alternate reality which doesn't bear much resemblance to virtual reality as we know it today. Are the writers so unsophisticated to think that VR is supposed to suck your mind into a computer, or are they driving at something much more clever? Well, after this Eggo Waffle commercial, I guess we'll see. 8:32. Okay, they're making it a little clearer. Singer thinks it's just an advanced form of virtual reality, but it seems she's tapped into something much different. It's her naivete that's confusing things. So far, I really like this show. Singer is refreshing as a lost nerd. 8:44. Getting pretty good. The serial killer angle is boss. Is that the guy who played Animal Mother in FMJ? Nice undertones, like that VR expert who got too far and now can't sleep at night. This show definitely has promise--I just hope they don't f*ck it up like they do most good shows (Fox, that is). 9:06 and VR.5 #1 is over. And I have to say, it was an intriguing series start. Lori Singer is great in the starring role, and the supporting cast is good as well--except for Penn Jillette, who really seems to be wearing himself too thin these days. The big potential problem here is that the show's creators may be writing themselves into a corner. As so often happens with a Revolver like this, a cool, mysterious phenomenon is destroyed by half-hearted, lame effort to explain why it's happening. But I have a gut feeling that VR.5 will somehow manage to navigate the rough waters of sci-fi TV. VR.5 Episode Two Being that this issue is late, I may as well review VR.5's second episode as well, since I just saw it last night. Unfortunately, VR.5 has taken a serious nosedive with its sophomore episode. The wild, out-of-control series premiere gives way to a cliche, predictable, dull plot. Unbelievable really. I was looking forward to seeing VR.5 last night, but after this lame "let the child genius be a child" debacle, I may have to give up! But no--there's enough good about VR.5 still that I'll stick with it for a little longer. Lori Singer's multifarious VR outfits are quite cool, and the mystery with her father and sister is alright. But you gotta wonder why these recent sci-fi TV shows (his and Voyager, to be specific) run out of steam right after their first episode! *OW* [[03032HT]] Halfevil Times HALFEVIL TIMES PERCEPTIONS & PONDERINGS EVER NOTICE... ...that those Japs play a mean violin? ...that you're constantly screwing over your future self? ...how those f*ckers always misspell your name in those sweepstakes entry letters? ...how cool it would be if bears migrated up and down the East Coast every year? ...that public Braille is unsanitary? ...that all these holographic characters on TV suck and must be abolished? ...that moths are stupid little f*cks? EVER WONDER... ...why, in a cosmic sense, you can't put metal in a microwave? ...how these illiterate ghetto kids manage to learn how to spell when it comes to defacing public property with graffiti? *OW* [[04032ZP]] Zope "Zope's Bagheera Wombat" TIN ALLEY RASCAL So nice of you to meet me in the park so we can walk our pets together! ZOPE Yeah, yeah, beautiful. How do you like Flock of Seagull's Scientifically Scandinavian Morton the Bastard? TIN ALLEY RASCAL That's some name, Zope my friend! But, er, what exactly is it...? ZOPE Stupid ass! It's a Bagheera wombat! TIN ALLEY RASCAL Eh? Come again? ZOPE It's a wombat that's been trained since birth to emulate Bagheera, the black panther from that Jungle Book cartoon. See? His fur is dyed the deepest black. And he sure is a ferocious little mother. TIN ALLEY RASCAL Well sir, certainly a pet worthy of Zope! And I see he's getting along with my Dandie Dinmont, Claude-Francois. ZOPE Nah. He's just lulling him into a false sense of security before... Suddenly, the Bagheera wombat leaps forward and quickly mutilates the little dog. TIN ALLEY RASCAL Dear god! Claude-Francois! My little dear! What has Zope done to you? Oh the horror... ZOPE Stop babbling you spineless jellyfish. I did you a favor having Bastard here slice and dice that little fag dog of your. And with this handy resurrection spray/air freshener I've devised, we'll bring him back to life much better than he used to be! TIN ALLEY RASCAL Oh Zope, do you suppose that's possible? ZOPE (spraying can) Of course! Would I lie to you? TIN ALLEY RASCAL Oh, fabulous! My dear Clause-Francois! Please come back to me. ZOPE Oh, but I did use a lot of maggot and toad DNA in the spray, so you gotta expect Claude'll come out a LITTLE different... The dog comes back to life, as a horrible maggot/toad/dog monstrosity. TIM ALLEY RASCAL Holy cow! ZOPE "Holy cow?" Shouldn't you say something more like "F*ck you, you f*cking goddamn bitch" to me? TIN ALLEY RASCAL I... I... ZOPE Okay, hold on you stammering pussy. Would you like Bastard here to kill little Claudy-Poo? TIN ALLEY RASCAL Y-yes. G-go ahead and d-do it. *RETCH!* TIN ALLEY RASCAL vomits. ZOPE Kill. Bastard leaps onto the horrible creature, and kills it. TIN ALLEY RASCAL (gasping) Zope... Zope... Why...? ZOPE 'Cause you looked like a f*cking homo walking around with a dog like that! Now, you can get a cool Bagheera wombat like me! TIN ALLEY RASCAL gives ZOPE a very confused look. *OW* [[05032CZ]] Classic Zope "Doctor Zope and the Abdomen Ghoul" 10/21/93 DOCTOR ZOPE What seems to be your problem, young Fombat? FOMBAT My stomach hurts like hell, Dr. Zope. DOCTOR ZOPE Get on the examination slab and let's see what your f*cking malady is. Soon... DOCTOR ZOPE (holding knife, and looking at a little snakelike monster sticking its head out of Fombat's cut-open belly) Aha! You have an abdomen ghoul, Fombat! FOMBAT (looking down at the creature) C-Can't you kill it? DOCTOR ZOPE Why kill such a nice little fellow? Let him live in your belly; befriend him. FOMBAT What about my stomach? You chopped up my belly with that knife! DOCTOR ZOPE Don't worry--your ghoul will fix you all up with his special healing saliva! *OW* [[06032LA]] Lord of Obliviana Okay there you--I gotta tell ya. Obliviana is starting to get somewhere. Nothing overwhelming yet, you know, but some very encouraging signs. Y'see, people ARE downloading each and every issue of OsoaWeek. At this point, the number appears to be in the low tens--buy hey, it's a start. And folks, yeah you--whether you downloaded this from America Online or The Familiar Spirit, I'd be utterly thrilled if you'd let me know what you think of OsoaWeek. Please drop me a line at obliviana@aol.com. Help me get over this feeling that I'm writing into a void! 1995. Here we are. You know, sometimes I feel like I had a previous life in the future. I mean, reincarnation is a familiar concept, but it always seems to involve a linear time progression, ie, each successive incarnation takes place at a later date than the previous one. But does this really make sense? Couldn't time be much less formal in the afterworld? What I'm suggesting is that in some past incarnation, I lived in the future. I get these impressions--visions of things to some--accompanied by the feeling that I've already lived through it. Call me crazy, but this is the impression I'm getting. And the more I get into this state of mind, the farther into the past 1995 seems. I could be wrong, however. I admit that I can glean no specific information from the future, only vague impressions. Would that I could remember major stock market trends, lottery numbers, outcomes of sporting events, etc. But no. So without this sort of evidence, I can't take this theory much further. Yeah, I'm pretty weird. I always have been. That's just a part of me though. Socially and stuff I'm pretty normal. But man, when I get going, I can get pretty f*cking intensely bizarre. I mean, on a number of occasions, I've completely outweirded the most frightening psychos. Especially on New Jersey Transit--there have been a few real doozies. But when I turn on my true strangeness, no misfit can stand in the face of such glorious oddness. Wow man--this introduction is getting into some amazing territory, eh? Yeah, I guess. Um, can I get a grip? Yes, I'm okay. Just driftin', you know. Back in the here and now, where are we? However we all got into this situation, we have to deal with it. Remember, the Corridor you're in right now, while it might seem like the whole world, certainly isn't. There are so many situation atmospheres out there--hah!--this is what folks should be seekin'! I'm losing it. I have to sleep and then be at the dentist in ten hours. Hmm--doesn't give me much time. Of course, once I made the semi-emergency appointment, the toothache stopped. Of course! But I see a little decay there--on my right front tooth--and that's not a tooth you wanna f*ck around with! That's a serious friggin' tooth! Lose that and you're shafted, pal! I'm losing it. Gotta get to sleep. Oh, did I tell you I bought a 30-million-year-old insect suspended in amber today? Highly groovy! I examined it with a microscope at work, and saw it's head, eyes, and antennae clearly! Shocking, isn't it, that you can but a perfectly-preserved 30-million-year-old animal for only $19? I thought so. Getsaway. A lot of surprises in store for everyone. We'll look back on the mid-1990s as more nerdy and lame than the '70s ever were. The fall of science... a surprising future. Okay, back to reality. You seen a glimpse of my weirdness--hope I didn't scare ya too much. I'm stuck in there and now just like the rest of you, but I've grown to like as I've grown to understand it. That is, I see the great value in being a living, functioning human being. Finding. Considering the alternatives. Can't seem to return to normal, can I? Trapped in a daze I say. What can I say? An opening of it all up. All the spaces and times and places and rhymes of your past and future available once again. Okay! So let's get going with this! I can see it but I don't know. The vision. I used to think it was of my childhood, but it's really from my past. Oh yeah. Finding it. Through Dashic. Breaking through. I'm losing it. Places we've been. Coordinates of otherness. Consider the whole idea of moods. What do stars SEEM to be? Okay. That's it. I'm stopping for now. The next paragraph will be in the future, after my sleep, after my visit to the dentist. Sleep well, me. Yeah, yeah. Here I am a few days later. Sunday. And stuff. Don't know if I'm feeling much better. Gotta get things moving. You know, I've set up a pretty big mountain to climb for myself. I know I can get to the top, but it's no breeze. What I mean by this is that I'm in the right place at the right time to catch the next wave of electronic publishing. Content is truly the commodity of the future, and I've got a lot of high quality content brewing. Thing is, I'm in a tough situation. See, I have a full-time job in Manhattan. I'm away from home for at least 12 hours each day. And in the few hours I might have every weeknight, I'm too exhausted to think straight. But in order to get Obliviana to the point where it can begin to make money, I have to invest thousands and thousands of hours of hard work while also working 9 to 5! So what am I to do? OsoaWeek is running two weeks late, and April 27 looms ever closer. That's the day when my new "embargo" Obliviana Primal is scheduled to launch. It's an e-mail-based game and world--and basis for all Obliviana to come! Yeah. It's March 12 right now, 6:47 pm. Gotta stop whining, gotta get moving. Tired, lethargic, stomach ache, cranky, melancholy, whatever. Sorry to burden you. Gotta make 50K every issue, may as well fill it up with what's on my mind. May be too much, but so what. Guess I gotta bite the bullet and design Obliviana Primal. Guess that's what I'm avoiding. Guess once that's done things'll start falling into place. What do I got? Roads and Revolvers, Tourney and Fonostas... 3/18/95. This issue is now 16 days late--the latest I've ever been in OsoaWeek. Can I bounce back from here, or will I continue to slide? Well, if I can finish this issue plus three more this weekend, I'll be all caught up. Can I do that? I don't know. Maybe not. But I should try anyway. Now on the verge of being 20 days late. I'm in real trouble of losing it here. What has happened? Bad times. Creative blockage? I dunno. I just feel kind of blank. But I have been creating good stuff all this time. It's just... Ah, you know what? OsoaWeek Book Three will get done even if it takes a real long time. I've been planning on changing the nature of Book Four, and the way things are going, I may as well. Since "Embargo" files are likely gonna be 10K to 15K (as opposed to 50K to 100K for the current OsoaWeek), there will be less to write each week, even if I go for an Obliviana Primal and a Severe Repair Embargo each week. But really, my plans have been for the Embargos to be published, along with other stuff, in an OsoaWeek very similar to the current one. So I don't know--I'll have to work this all out. Good night, this Sunday night, and hopefully this issue will get done tomorrow night, 20 days late. Then 033 will only be 13 days late. Ah, whatever. I know Obliviana will work in the long run, so what am I worrying about? Good night. OKAY ALREADY! This issue is a mess! For god's sake--it's 3/21/95 right now--Tuesday--so OsoaWeek032 is 19 days late NOW--all that information up there is all f*cked up, dude! Let me tell you, now that spring is here again, things are looking a whole lot better! I know I can lick this lateness problem, don't you know! And last night, I uploaded the first non-OsoaWeek digital file I've ever done--the Nomads "Plankton" Comic! See Nihilistica for more details. Yeah man, I tell ya. The winter has left OsoaWeek is semi-shambles. Gotta clean up. Oh, here's something I wrote yesterday... 3/20/95/Monday 7:14 am, train station Spring is here. A vital 3 months for Obliviana. Leaving a winter of trouble behind, I can see the dawn of smooth sailing on the horizon. Come with me, won't you, as I set sail for adventure and chaos! Okay, back in the present now. Yow! Nomads has been rejected by America Online! It was found to be in violation of the nebulous "Terms of Service"--in other words--too offensive for such a family-oriented online service. Maybe it was the word "crotch" that did it. Anyway, I guess I'm pretty bummed over this. What the hell--AOL'ers would've loved Nomads! Okay, March 23 now. This issue is now exactly 3 weeks late. But it won't get any farther--I'm completing this baby tonight. A couple of things--one thing is that I'm changing the term "embargo" to "ember". This is short for "E-Mail-Based Entertainment Release". Better, eh? Also, I've started smoking fine cigars--and let me tell ya--it's pretty darn fascinating! Check for review in upcoming issues. Yeah, I'm finishing up now. The details on "Nomads" will be in the next issue. I'm gonna try to upload it to another forum on AOL tonight, though--so it may get on AOL yet! So I'm pulling out of the nosedive! Isn't that great! In an hour or so I'll only be two weeks late! Alright! Dude--GET ALL OBLIVIANA! *OW* [[07032NH]] Nihilistica ***THE COUCH OF EXCESS*** I buy way too much stuff every day on my commute back and forth to Manhattan. And prime among the products I waste my money on are magazines and comic books. Usually when I come home, I just throw a bag full of stuff on the couch and forget about it. A few minutes ago, I went through this stuff, mostly recent, and decided to how much money I threw away on stuff which just collected dust. And remember--this is just a small fraction of the stuff I buy--I have a bunch of stuff at work and in my bathroom, among other places. ---MAGAZINES--- TV GUIDE (Nov. 26--Dec. 2 1994) $0.89 DETAILS (February 1995) $2.00 PEOPLE (November 28, 1994) $2.95 DETAILS (April 1995) $2.00 ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY (March 10, 1995) $2.50 COMBO (March 1995) $3.95 NEWSWEEK (February 27, 1995) $2.95 SHADIS (February 1995) $3.95 NEW YORK (March 13, 1995) $2.95 ---MAGAZINE SUBTOTAL: $24.14--- ---COMIC BOOKS--- TEAM YOUNGBLOOD (17) $2.50 GEN 13 RAVE (1) $1.50 GEN 13 (0) $2.50 EXTREME SACRIFICE (1) $2.50 SAVAGE HENRY: HEADSTRONG (1) $2.95 REVELATIONS (1) $2.75 CEREBUS WORLD TOUR BOOK 1995 (?) $2.95 GENERATION NEXT (3) $1.95 ---COMIC BOOK SUBTOTAL: $19.60--- --COUCH TOTAL: $43.74--- Wow. No wonder I never have any money! We'll check out the bathroom next time. *OW* [[08032OL]] Obliviana Primal Back in OsoaWeek030, I detailed an idea I called DLOS (Doom-Like Online Service). At the time I wrote it, I wasn't aware of any such projects in the development. But now, I just found out that just such a 3-D, real-time, interactive online service is being developed! It's called "Interactive World's Fair", and it's being created by some companies called Knowledge Adventure Worlds and Landmark Entertainment. Reading about it in the April 18, 1995 issue of "CD-ROM Power" magazine, I see that IWF will use a CD-ROM to store all the graphics, sounds, etc.--just like I was suggesting two issues ago! So just for the record, I think you can see how good I am at predicting technology trends. I sure wish I could afford to develop a DLOSish service myself right now, but unfortunately, I can't. I mean, this is where the future of entertainment IS. But rest assured--Obliviana Primal will be such a service at some point in the future. And when it launches, it'll be better than all these Interactive World's Fair sort of things, no problem! EMERGENCY REVISION! It was way back in OsoaWeek004 that I introduced the idea of VIAT (Virtual Invoker/Artificer Technology). In keeping with the chaos of this issue, I'll keep the above text, but remember--I had this idea way back in August of 1994! *OW* [[09032NJ]] New Jersey UPDATE Back in the New Jersey feature of OsoaWeek004, I reviewed Arcadian Gardens, a weird, disheveled garden and craft store. Well, I have some bad news for any of you who were planning on going there--it's been demolished. As I visited The Wiz today (3/19/95) I was hit by the shocking sight of a demolished Arcadian Gardens. All that's left is its skeletal structure, and the massive jaws of the demolition device look ready to finish the job tomorrow, Monday. So that's that. I'll miss Arcadian Gardens. But when I get my time travel powers back, I can always go and visit... 10 REALLY WEIRD NJ TOWN NAMES Foul Rift Manunka Chunk Penny Pot Yellow Frame Blue Anchor Bacon's Neck Herman Dicktown Shark River Hills Othello *OW* [[10032DC]] Dashic ***A SERIOUS QUESTION*** The universe as science has woven places all of us on an insignificant speck of dust in the middle of a vast wasteland of nothingness. This view has been around for a long time, I know. And I used to accept it without question. But now, I am seriously beginning to doubt the existence of outer space. I am, in short, becoming a geocentricist. One thing that's really been bothering me at an intellectual level is the fact that the sun and the moon are exactly, or nearly exactly, the same size in the sky. This is starkly illustrated during a solar eclipse, when the moon fully covers the sun, leaving only the sun's corona visible. So my question is, if Earth just happens to be that one-out-of-a trillion sort of planet where intelligent life developed, is it also that one-out-of who-knows-how-many planets whose satellite(s) appear exactly the same size in the sky as their sun? I mean, come on. Why has the scientific view of the cosmos taken such a hold on the modern world? Why are we all so willing to accept the conclusions of scientists we don't know above and beyond our own senses? Well, of course, if I say there's no such thing as outer space, you can say that PEOPLE HAVE BEEN THERE. But remember--all the Space Shuttles, space stations, and other orbiters there have been all remain in Earth's gravitational field, in microgravity. They are not really that far up in relative terms. Then we come to the moon, which is undeniably out in space. America sent some astronauts there in the late '60s and early '70s. 18 missions in all, maybe six landings. And there are a lot of people who think the whole thing was a fake. I believe that in the next few decades the shocking truth will be revealed that once we sent astronauts beyond the Earth's gravity, they found something totally unexpected and totally unacceptable. But due to political and other forms of pressure, they had to continue onward. I mean, what would have happened to NASA funding if they told Congress that space doesn't exist? Whatever. I know all this talk sounds crazy--of that I'm well aware. But what I'm beginning to see are scraps of a much larger picture, and they all point to the non-existence of outer space, the fakeness of the lunar landings, and a big lie. October 4, 1957 marked the beginning of space exploration with the USSR's Sputnik. That was 36.5 years ago. It hasn't really been that long, has it? ALRIGHT, EMERGENCY ABORT! I don't like the way this feature is going, so I'm pressing the panic button and ending it. All this conspiratorial stuff just isn't my style. Plus, in an earlier issue of OsoaWeek, I said that both the Obliviana AND the scientific view of the universe are equally valid. But, in the interest of taking up space and getting this issue done, I'm leaving this whole darn article in here! Writing without revision! Every week, in OsoaWeek! *OW* [[11032SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 177 This is happening. It is unregulated. I was quiet. In wood huddle. Sweet smoke on hill. Time has come to do some exploring. That is unrehearsed. SUPERIOR 178 Friend is tar monorail. Airport rememberer is incapable. Like us. It to you, interstate, copy protected over the network. Circular allride, dark patriot, weak electricity. Freecord, the amusement day plan is ruining you. Drop out. Fly disappear. Junk. SUPERIOR 179 What was the cutting was the mind thicket. Someone asking for Edna. Wair shall wander the sparkling blue spirit of goto. Skind of not okay and meet us by Gadgetry. Of pain and days was rest, and I joke about it and am cute. Let go the red witch hat. I was here to catch you if you fell. Fwas excellent. SUPERIOR 180 Route. Blast. Desk in '75, overload it Hay Dreep-Twonca. Juib the messenger was kind of, uh. Let go the deeper language. Forma forlora feleepra noggendosh emb harpa. Lesker toom halabap, sip. Dorfen. Indersim. Forsaysin un doorin. Uska amsa chasky, the reef. Togo messler oberpimk the garu-aska. Elebax, im huska eskatra beespa. Fo morfin ank elter. Leg omasyes. Eg tansa lobo-nokora. Angle pelfer besp canter. Once there was just one language. It's 8:52 and I'm tired. *OW* [[12032SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR 32: "Stormbolthouse Lunatether" Foreman Ittener Pier was pretty depressing. Most of the amusement stands, restaurants, and arcades were closed. And the few that were open didn't have many customers. But there were people milling about. They didn't take much notice of us, even though we were dressed a lot differently than them. Hilltop in her dress and me in my Warhome police duds (a few others had also adopted the police uniform thing before, in Daptin's Land--even though some others complained that the last thing they wanted to see in that new world was police...) Yeah, the people here were dressed kind of drab. Men in brown business-type suit, women in nondescript brown dresses--that sort of thing. "So whattaya think, Ferrajalt?" Hilltop said. "I don't know." I said softly, as a big guy walked past us. "The question is--how did these people get onto the pier and how're they gonna get off?" "Good one." "What--good question?" "Yeah. That's what I meant." "Uh-huh. So look--there's nothing beyond the pier, so um--something's up. Something we don't know." "So why don't we just ask one of 'em?" "We can't just--" "--why not?" Hilltop said as she began to stride toward a stand with one of those big wheels you wager on to win crummy toys. "Hey..." I began, but figured she was right, and followed. Man, what a depressing place. Just such a dead feeling. No wind, muted sound, dead. No energy. "Scuse me, Ma'am." Hilltop said to a bored-looking woman behind the counter. "Wondrin' if'n I might ask you a question." "What is this--a quiz show?" the woman said in a detached manner, smoking a blue cigarette with blue smoke. "Um. no Ma'am. We were just wondrin' uh, you know how there's nothin' else around here except for the pier? What I mean is, no roads, no buildings, no boats, nothing. How did you all manage to get here?" The woman narrowed her eyes, looking from Hilltop to me and then back again. "What kind of question is that?" "Just look down that way, Ma'am." Hilltop said, pointing. "Y'can see there isn't nothing down there." The woman looked at us suspiciously again, and then craned to neck to look where Hilltop was pointing. "Yeah," the woman said, returning to her former position and taking a drag on the cigarette. "What's your point? And how did you two get here?" I moved forward. "Look," I said, "we're, uh, we're not from around here. We just walked down the beach, and climbed up onto the pier. We just, uh, thought it was, y'know, kind of strange there were no roads or anything, uh..." "You got a point?" the woman said. "Well, uh," I said, "just that, uh--just curiosity. Like you, uh, for example. How did you get here this morning?" "Drove." the woman said. Then she looked down and shook her head, confused. "I mean, I guess I did." Then she looked up at us and said "What time is it anyway?" I looked at my wrist, but there was no watch there. "I... don't know." I said slowly, a creepy feeling growing inside me. "Me neither." Hilltop said, backing up toward me. The woman looked at us, and then looked down again, shaking her head as if contemplating how stupid or unfortunate something was. "Thanks lady." Hilltop said, turning to face me. When her face was hidden from the woman, she silently mouthed something like "Let's get going.", and we did. "Weird, huh?" I said as we made out way toward the end of the pier, which seemed like the place to head. "You got that. She was totally lost." "Yeah." There was some activity over to our right, and we looked to see a family rejoicing and handing a big stuffed walrus to a little kid. But then, a second later, they vanished. We kept walking for a second. "You see that?" Hilltop asked. "Yeah." "Good." After a pause, she said "What was that?" "Looked like some people who happened to disappear." "Oh. Okay." We continued walking, then she spoke again. "Why do you suppose they went and did that?" "I don't know." I said. "This obviously isn't the most stable of places. Maybe it's just a fragment of reality--right?--like a little shard kept suspended somehow..." "Could be." she said. "But that's not too good for us, is it?" "Nope." "So you wanna talk to a few more people?" "Sure." And we did, with just as little success. Everyone was totally stoned, never giving a straight answer, confused but maddeningly calm. As we gave up on trying to glean any information from the locals we saw the end of the pier--where a kind of castle stood. "A haunted house?" I said. "Who knows, in a place like this." "May as well check it out." I said, and we walked up to it. The front door was open, so we just walked right in. Down the main hall, we looked into a sitting room and saw three old women. "Oh, hello!" one of them, in a purple T-shirt, said. "Come right on in." "Um--okay." I said, and we entered the room. "You two look tired." another old woman said, this one in a hat. "Maybe you should stay with us for a few days." "That might be good." I said. "But be careful--" the third woman, in thick glasses, said. "--there are ghosts here." "What do you mean?" Hilltop asked. "Ghosts--" the woman in glasses said. "--lots of them..." "Okay--" I said, sitting on a sofa. "--but look--we have some questions for you. Maybe you could help us?" The woman in the purple shirt turned to the others and smiled. "We can you, but first, why don't I show you up to your room, so you can rest. You look awfully tired, and we do our best to take care of our boarders." I started to say something as I looked over at Hilltop, but she looked to amenable to the proposal that I kept my mouth shut and followed the woman up a creaking, scary spiral staircase. She led us to a nice little room with a window looking out over the ocean. Sunlight streaming in, it was a quite a quite appealing place. "You just relax and then come down later. We'll talk then." "Okay." I called after the woman and she disappeared down the stairs. Hilltop walked over to the window and looked out. What a vision she was in that light... "So," I said, walking up beside her, "got any ideas?" "Nope." she said, turning her head quickly, staring at me with those beautiful eyes. "Yeah, well--I'm not too enthusiastic about any of this so far. I mean, we could be in serious trouble here." I said, turning away from her and looking out over the sea. "I know." she said softly. I sighed and walked over to the side of the bed and sat down. Hilltop regarded me. "So this is freedom?" she said. "I think so. But maybe not. Being lost--does being lost take away from freedom? Guess it does." Hilltop smiled a resigned smile and swaggered over to the bed. She stood in front of me, looking down at me for a moment, then she sat down next to me--leaving a pretty big gap. Maybe she sensed that my libido was out of control and that my lust had a hair trigger; she wouldn't have had to do much to get me going. Kind of unfair, you know? Here's a great person, this Hilltop, but I can't even begin to get past her being a beautiful woman. In a perfect world, shouldn't two people be able to share a friendship without the specter of sex hanging over their heads? Ah, maybe not. Maybe that wouldn't be so perfect. Maybe the sexual tension between people, most of it never ignited, is what makes human interface stimulating. Whatever. I looked over and saw Hilltop taking a little pack of gum out of one of her pockets. "Whattaya got there?" I asked. "Oh, it's just another wonna those crazy things Sarah gave me. 'Solve gum'--that's what she called it. Said that when ya chew it, it'll solve yer biggest problem at the moment. She said it works best at dead ends--where I guess we are right now." "Huh. That Spanking New Sarah sure has a lot of cool stuff." "Uh-huh. And how she got to Daptin's Land--inside a tiny little implant kinda thingy behind Daptin's ear? Y'know? Her and Glara were miniaturized inside a there!" "Yeah I know. I heard. So what is this again? Solve gum?" "Yup." she said, popping a mottled red-and-blue stick into her mouth. "Hope it works." She smiled and started chewing. I smiled back and turned my attention to the matter handler on my lap. Well, between her solve gum and my matter handler, well--maybe I was fooling myself, but I figured there had to be a way out of this mess. A way home. All that. Hilltop continued chewing loudly and I examined the matter handler. It had a circular opening in it, just like the Warhome matter handlers. And there were a lot of status windows all over it, all dark and inactive. I considered feeding some matter into it, but decided to wait. "Hmm..." Hilltop said suddenly. "What?" "I get the feeling this gum is startin' to work its magic." "Yeah?" "Yeah." Hilltop said, getting up and walking over to a full-length mirror on the wall. "Yeah--I'm purty sure. Take a look." I got up and stood beside her in front of the mirror. "What?" I asked. "Look at our reflections." I looked, and indeed, there was something wrong. We looked terrible in the reflection. Our clothes were worn out, our flesh dull and lifeless, our hair limp--in other words, generally dead. I looked over at Hilltop, and she was as lovely and vivacious as ever. "You definitely don't look like that." I said, feeling my face and hair. "Hope I don't either." "You don't." she said. "It's just in the mirror. Don't you see? The gum is making it so clear. We're on the OTHER side of the mirror. Right now." "Huh?" "Forget it for now, Ferrajalt--just grab your suitcase and take my hand." "Okay." I said, getting my matter handler from the bed and taking Hilltop's hand. "No questions now." she said. "Just close your eyes and walk forward. There's no mirror there--it's an open door. Ya hear me? An open door." "I hear you." I said, and we started walking forward. I thought for sure we'd bump right into the glass, but we didn't. I felt a definite chill, though, and we stumbled forward as if we'd hit a staircase... I opened my eyes and we were back in the room--the exact same room--except we were facing the bed. "What the f*ck was that?" I said. A quick look around confirmed that the room was not a mirror image of the one we were in--but rather, the same as it had been. "Okay." she said. "I think we made it. Look!" She turned and looked into the mirror. I did likewise, and indeed, our reflections were normal. "So what happened?" Hilltop took a deep breath and plopped down onto the bed. "Well it all became so clear to me--but I realized that getting through the mirror would require a kind of blind faith. That's why I rushed ya. If we thought about it too much, we'd have psyched ourselves out." "Okay." I said slowly. "But where did we get? This isn't any mirror image of the other room." "No--it's not. What happened was--I think--we were in the world of the dead. Those people--all of them--were ghosts. That's why they were so out of it. The mirror was a way for us--the living--to get back to the real world." "Huh. And the gum made you figure all this out?" "Yup." she said, smiling and chewing loudly. "Well, that's good." I said. "I just hope it worked." "Oh, it did. I'm fairly certain, at least. One way to find out." she said, getting up and heading for the door. "Okay." I said as I followed. Out in the hallway, it was clear that things were different. Everything was more vibrant, more full of life. And now it was clear that this was a hotel--there were numbers on the doors and everything. I was sure they hadn't been there before. We descended the stairs and looked into the room where the women had been--and we saw them--for an instant. They were looking at us, but quickly vanished. "See?" Hilltop said. "Ghosts." "Yup." I followed her back to the entrance, which was now the hotel lobby. A geeky teen sat behind the counter and looked at us in fear. I guessed it must have been my dark blue police duds. So I played the part. "Everything's okay here." I said, looking over at Hilltop. "Let's just hope they can keep it this way." And Hilltop gave the kid a knowing glance. "Uh... uh... yeah..." the kid stammered. "No problem here." Clever. I remembered my mother teaching me that everyone has something to hide, a guilty conscious. Tap into that, and you can manipulate 'em but good. So we walked outside, and there the difference was much more noticeable. The haze, the drear, all gone. Now Foreman Ittener Pier was a nice place, and in full swing, from the look of things. Hilltop took a deep, resplendent breath. "See Ferrajalt? The world a the livin'." "I see." I said. "Let's just hope it exists beyond the Pier. It could still be a pocket reality, you know." "Oh, I think it exists." she said, chewing the gum in exaggerated loudness. Huh--pretty useful stuff, that solve gum. An again cylinder with that stuff in it would be a neat trick. A little further down, we could see that the world indeed existed beyond the pier. It was a very active shoreline, with people bathing, lots of boats, resorts, hustle, bustle--all that. A little girl with a big stuffed walrus toy passed us, and I recognized her--she was the one who disappeared when we were with the ghosts. "So to ghosts, the living are the ghosts." I said. "That's it." Hilltop answered. We got to the gate, and as I suspected, the Waver was gone. I kept looking at the spot where it should have been, hoping to catch a glimpse of the ghost vehicle, but to no avail. "So what if the ghosts get a hold of it?" I asked. "That'd be interstin." I nodded and looked around. "So--" I said. "Game plan?" "Hey, I got us this far--it's your turn to jump start the old noodle." "Okay, okay." I said. "This looks like a fully up-and-running Earth, so I guess our primary goal should be to determine if it's a known part of Aconck." "Okay..." she said, expecting more. "If it is, we can contact Overwhelm and get back into the swing of things." "What if it's not an Overwhelm Earth?" "Well, then it'll be more complicated--but whatever--if it's TAG I'm sure they'll give us passage once they hear our story. If it's U64, well--we'll just have to take our chances." "Sucks we can't neither of us bridge." "Does." We stepped onto the boardwalk and I was happy to feel the solid slats of wood beneath my boots. "So whatta we need--a map or somethin'?" "That'd be good." I said. "Too bad we don't have any local currency." "Ah, we can improvise." I laughed a little and we strolled along till we came to a little tourist-type shop. Inside, we found a map section--and it didn't take long after that for me to figure things out. "Okay." I said, looking at a map. "The city of Peeferkihint is DEFINITELY an Overwhelm outpost. I've never been here--to Gamble Jazz Earth--before, but I know they're there." "Great!" Hilltop said. "So how far are we from there?" I sighed and put the map down. "About a thousand miles." "Darn." "But nothing's preventing us from calling them." "I know, but dig the tech level." "Yeah I know--I could have sworn this was a class P Earth. Seems more like an L!" "Well, let's just find a payphone and try." she said, heading out of the store. On the boardwalk there weren't any payphones, and I started getting worried. We asked a guy at a seafood stand about it and he said he was pretty sure there was a place a few miles down the boardwalk with one. Then I started to get more worried. "I need a bookstore or a library or something." I said. "I don't like the sound of this." Hilltop said. Soon we got to a newsstand sort of store with some books inside. I pored over newspapers, paperbacks, magazines, and the like--trying to disprove the idea that was giving me such a sinking feeling. But everything I read pointed to the same conclusion--the big war which was central to this Earth's history simply hadn't happened yet. "Uh, Hilltop? I have something to tell you." "Uh-huh?" "Good news--this is definitely Gamble Jazz Earth. Bad news? We're about 50 years in the past." She stared at me wide-eyed for a few moments, then she said "Oh." A threw down the magazine I was reading and headed out of the store. "So what are we gonna do now?" she asked, catching up to me as I exitted onto the boardwalk. "We're gonna use this." I said, shaking the matter handler. "I'm tired and hungry--and I don't want to start a life of crime just to survive." "You sure? You sure about this?" "Definitely. As a Quality Scout, I had to study all the known Aconck Earths in depth. The idea was that I'd be able to identify any Earth I might find myself on it by accident--however that might happen." "And we're definitely 50 years ago?" "Yup." "So--so what if that thing you got don't work." I stopped and faced her. "Then, my dear, we're seriously f*cked--we'll be old geezers by the time Overwhelm breaks through here." "Yikes." she said. We walked down the boardwalk a ways, looking for a good place to start snapping up matter. We didn't have much luck--it was a pretty heavily-populated place. Finally, we walked out on some rocks extending out into the sea and sat down. "Y'think these rock'll be enough?" Hilltop asked. "No--but if it can take water, we're set. Water's matter now, isn't it?" "That it is." I started fiddling with the device, and soon all of its control and display lit up. And a woman's voice came from it. "Initializing aspect and circumstance scan. Done. Users identify--human male and female?" "Huh?" I said. "Are you and the woman next to you the users of this device?" "Uh, yeah." I said, looking over at Hilltop in confusion. "Please tell me your names." the device said. "Um--I'm Prince Ferrajalt, and..." "...and I'm Hillary Jone Rallity. So who are you?" "I am the intelligence of embryonic Stormbolthouse Lunatether, child of Stormbolthouse Leitmotif. Would you like Stormbolthouse Lunatether to be woven now?" "Yeah." I said. "But like, there are some special circumstances..." "Explain." "Well, we're in a place with a lot of people--by the sea you know--and we don't want to make a big show of it, a big ruckus or anything." "I can grow underwater. This method will take 9.15 hours to complete. Then, a Waver will be dispatched to pick you up--it will be the dark of night then." "Okay." I said. "So what do I do?" "Throw me out into the water, Prince Ferrajalt. I will take water in, and weave a propulsion device. Then, the weaving of Stormbolthouse Lunatether will begin." "Okay," I said, "so just throw you out there and you'll be okay?" "Yes. Whenever you're ready." I thought about using superstrength, but figured it was unnecessary. So I just hurled the matter handler as hard as could with normal strength, out into the sea, hoping the voice in the box knew what it was doing. "Okay." I said, looking at Hilltop. "We have nine hours to kill, and I'm damn hungry. Let's just go to a restaurant, chow down, and not pay. What the hell can they do to us?" "Sounds good to me!" she said. So we walked down the boardwalk for about half and hour and found a nicely crowded restaurant. We ate a whole lot, and after a few hours, we just walked right out. We got back to the general area where I threw the matter handler, and hung out in an amusement arcade. Frustrated at not having any money, I left Hilltop and strolled the boardwalk a little until I saw a clerk at an ice cream stand finish ringing someone up. She walked into a back room, and I quickly jumped over the counter and, using superstrength, tore the cash register open and grabbed all the paper money out of it. I was away in a flash and was pretty certain no one saw me. So my life of crime had begun. Back at the arcade, I changed some of the bills into coins and gave a handful to Hilltop. "Don't ask." I said in response to her questioning glance. I was a little paranoid at first, but my fears quickly subsided. This was clearly a more innocent age, where folks weren't as careful as they'd have to be in a tech class P or Q Earth. The hours rolled by, and finally things began to close. So we staked out a little corner of beach by the boardwalk and relaxed. I tell you, I liked Hilltop a lot--but I didn't want to just go rushing in and make a move. I looked for little signs--like looking into her eyes and seeing if she responded, but she didn't really. Oh well--maybe I could just be good friends with Hilltop. You know? Ah, who am I kidding? I was thinking of making love with her every moment we were together. I couldn't help it. But my actions, I could help. I guess we just lied down and fell asleep, both of us. 'Cause the next thing I heard was Lunatether's voice saying "Wake up Prince Ferrajalt, wake up Hilltop Jone Rallity." over and over again. "I'm up! I'm up!" I said, looking at a Waver on the sand in front of us through bleary eyes. Hilltop woke up a few moments later and said "Looks like it worked." "Yup." I said, getting up and stumbling over to the Waver." "Everything work out okay?" I asked. "Weave time was 9.22 hours. Discrepancy due to chemical composition of seawater here." "No problem." I said. Like .07 hours meant sh*t to me. "So it's done?" I said. "Ready to move? Shall we get in?" "Stormbolthouse Lunatether is fully woven, and ready to travel. You may enter Waver Double-Zero One at any time for transport to the Stormbolthouse." "Okay." I said, getting into the thing. Hilltop soon followed. The Waver took off, and we flew at a high altitude over the sea. "How far out is it?" I said. "Thirty miles--out of scanning range of any resident vessel." "Scanning?" I said. "In this case, just telescopically-enhanced human sight, human hearing--no apparent radar or other complex scanning methods." "Huh." I said. After about 10 or 15 minutes, we got to the Stormbolthouse, which was surrounded by only a wispy ring of clouds. "No storm?" I asked. "The Stormbolthouse is in stand-by/stealth mode. Lightning would be visible for quite a ways, after all." "No problem." I said. Was it me, or did this thing have a personality? Oh well. Soon we entered the enormous flying vehicle, and found ourselves in a hangar bay nearly identical to the one on the Leitmotif. "Will you be sharing a room or sleeping in separate rooms." I looked at Hilltop and paused for longer than I should have, smiling in embarrassment. "Uh, separate." I said. "Right?" Hilltop raised one eyebrow. "Don't get ahead of yourself now, boy. I'm just starting to like you--don't go fast-forwarding to sharing a bed just yet!" "No, no." I said, trying to shrug it off. "So--uh--I'd like to go to the control room first and get some basic information. Is that okay?" "Of course." the voice said. I followed the voice's directions to the control room, via an elevator--Hilltop following behind me. Our banter turned pleasant again quickly--her little outburst thankfully smoothed over. In the spacious control room I sat in the command seat and looked out at the sea, dimly lit by the light of a half moon. Hilltop sat in a nearby seat, and I felt bad for again taking the command seat without asking--just like in the Warhome. But I figured taking charge of things was good in the long run. "Okay." I said. "So what do I call you?" "I am, for all intents and purposes, the Stormbolthouse itself. Addressing me as Lunatether would be appropriate." "Okay Lunatether." I said. "The situation here is this--we got to this place in a weird way, uh--" "I have the Leitmotif's records up to the time it departed." "Ahh..." I said. "So you know all about what happened?" "Yes." "After we all blacked out--" Hilltop said. "--what was the deal there? What caused it?" "Consciousness is not possible in superreal space." Lunatether said. "But why were we there in the first place?" I asked. "Daptin Gone, in personal consultation with Injure Bodoni and Ann Saply, related his need to refine his Creation, and that all the people were making things difficult for him. He wanted to be alone in his Land for a time, with Red Archer Booze and Sleap Drassy." What the f*ck was that all about? "I see." I said. "So he did get rid of us." "He was planning on letting you all back." the machine said. "Glad we got out of that party." Hilltop said. "You said it." I said. "So Lunatether--can we enter superreal space and get back to Daptin's?" "I scan no entry point." it said. "From the voice recordings taken as matter handler, I gather the entry point is in this Earth's Land of the Dead, inaccessible to us." "Oh." I said. "I guess if you recorded us, you know we're also about 50 years in the past. Can this vehicle travel in time?" "No--but in the Life Center I do have some tock hound DNA. I can grow you some tock hounds, but it'll take a few years for them to grow big enough for you to ride." "What?" I said incredulously. "There is a Life Center on the Stormbolthouse containing numerous DNA samples which can be grown. One such set of samples is for tock hounds--horse-sized dogs with time travel ability. I can get them to newborn stage, but it will take approximately two years before they are large enough--and mature enough--for you to ride." "You're saying we have to raise dogs for two years in order to travel to the future?" "That's the best I can do, Ferrajalt." "Okay, okay." I said, looking over at Hilltop. "What do you think?" "I think two years sounds a whole lot better than 50." "So do I. So do I." *OW* [[13032CN]] Contents of OsoaWeek032, March 2, 1995 BEGIN 01 032 CV--Cover 02 032 HR--Hemisinister Review 03 032 HT--Halfevil Times 04 032 ZP--Zope 05 032 CZ--Classic Zope 06 032 LA--Lord of Obliviana 07 032 NH--Nihilistica 08 032 OL--Obliviana Primal 09 032 NJ--New Jersey 10 032 DC--Dashic 11 032 SU--Superior 12 032 SR--Severe Repair 13 032 CN--Contents END *OW* [[END032OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----