|| -------- -- -----  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 038--4/13/95 <-------  ||  OsoaWeek  ||  Issues  ||  Book 3  ||  -------> (Cup OWis038, Created v1 (4/27/99), Copyright 1999) = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = [[BEGIN038OW]] [[01038CV]] * * * O S O A W E E K 0 3 8 * * * April 13, 1995 "The weekly ezine of Obliviana Super Occult Amusement!" by Frank Edward Nora INSIDE THIS ISSUE! * Creative genius is in store for you! Check 'er out! * Digital Collectible Trading Card Game "Obliviana War" * "Obliviana War" Card List--all 512! * Pelter Ancient Evil--32 cards * Pelter Campus--32 cards * Pelter Deja Vu--32 cards * Pelter Far Out--32 cards * Pelter Happening--32 cards * Pelter Hard Rock--32 cards * Pelter Lawn--32 cards * Pelter Military--32 cards * Pelter Modern Age--32 cards * Pelter Moist--32 cards * Pelter Monte Carlo--32 cards * Pelter Museum--32 cards * Pelter Peaceful--32 cards * Pelter Rustic--32 cards * Pelter Tea Party--32 cards * Pelter Whammy--32 cards * "Deer Express" * And a whole lot more! * WHAT ELSE COULD BRING YOU SO MUCH BLISS TODAY? (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: 57432 / Line count: 1518 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* [[02038LA]] Lord of Obliviana April 1995, the 24th like. Night train ride home. Still working on last issue, getting there. The impossible deadline for the start of the Fourth Book looming. Gotta try and get as close as I can--I don't think I can make it. It's just like, 150K+ in three days? I don't think so. Even at the craziest pace, it'll take me a week or two to get there. Or will it? Whatever. I've got very few readers right now. The future ones will have these issues in their archives whether they're done this week or not. But without the schedule--aye aye aye--I'd fall back into the creative coma I've been in so many times over the years. Gotta hold the schedule high... So, April 1995. Where am I? I know that I have about six months before things start to take off in earnest. Where'll I be then? Maybe up to issue 64 or something. Obliviana War all done with an audience of hundreds. The first Obliviana articles appearing in magazines and such--the buzz beginning. Gotta get back on track, though! The lighter workload for Book Four will definitely help. I've been spending an awful lot of time on Obliviana War in the past few weeks as well, not helping my OsoaWeek output. Maybe I'll find some more emergency archival material to publish. Thing is, this stuff usually takes longer to do than writing original material. But when you've got any level of writer's block, having some clay to mold is far easier than creating the clay out of thin air. Luckily, I'm in okay shape these days as far as Severe Repair writing goes. I would like some archival stuff, though, 'cause I got just so much space to fill in this issue and next. These two are tabula rasas, man! April 27, 1995. Today is the day. The beginning of the Fourth Book. Morning now, cramped between a wall and a guitarist. If I finish this issue today, and 039 today, and 040 today, I'll be back on schedule. Guess I shoulda called in sick. Nah. I need the money. So it looks like the Fourth Book will begin a little late. Not a big shocker. I hope to get 040 out by this weekend. As far as the E-mber thing goes, it'll have to be in beta testing during the Fourth Book. I will structure issues 040 and beyond in an E-mber fashion, however, One potential problem with E-mber is that the material in OsoaWeek is pretty much not meant for children. So what's to prevent a kid from getting on my E-mail list, and what's then to prevent his parents from getting mad at me? I suppose the easy answer is to require an age statement, and send OsoaWeek only to those 18 and above. Ah, I don't even wanna deal with these sorts of issues. As it is, a kid could easily download OsoaWeek offa America Online--one complaint and I'm booted! Crap. Yeah--I'm getting the feeling that my AOL account is not gonna last that much longer one way or another. Ever since they rejected the Nomads comic... I don't know. I don't like this censorship. I can't write with censorship in mind. If I wanna say f*ck or sh*t, I just put a star in it. But what the f*ck--this is NOT a family ezine. It has a pretty narrow intended audience--men, from 18 to 35 or something, This is not to say that a woman shouldn't be reading OsoaWeek or shouldn't be enjoying it, just that on average, the people who like this science fiction/fantasy/weirdness/violence/iconoclast stuff are usually men in the age range above. So what should I do? I guess the age statement is a good idea, but it'll be like a homing beacon for impressionable young hackers. So I guess I don't know what to do. Tone down the material? No way. I'm not gonna do that--I'd rather offer OsoaWeek exclusively (gulp) via snailmail order than do that. Oh well. But come on--are the publishers of Penthouse blamed if a kid is caught by his parents ogling scenes of lesbian love? No--but the person who made it possible for him to get it may be the focus of ire. You know, this E-mber idea has its drawbacks. Maybe I should just roll with it, let it go, and see what happens. See? See all the problems I have to deal with as Lord of Obliviana? I guess I could have people mail me photocopies of their driver's license--NAH! Hey, come on--how the hell am I supposed to know fact one about the identity of people E-mailing me? Every bit of information I get is totally unverifiable. If a kid lies and says he's 18, what am I supposed to do? And come on--OsoaWeek is NOT pornographic. At least, not usually. (That darn Quile Mightnarish self-love thing was pretty f*ckin' close, though.) Yeah, and here's another knot. Obliviana War is intended for all ages, basically. Yeah, I know there are cards like Sex, LSD, Vodka, and Pussy, but there's an octopus shape on the Pussy card, for gods sake! HEY! That's a good title for something--"Sex, LSD, Vodka, and Pussy!" Wow! I gotta use it! Okay people, but you get my drift. I got this digital collectible trading card game that'll likely appeal to kids, and then there's this companion to Obliviana War, a cool ezine called OsoaWeek, and Obliviana War player's will be encouraged to subscribe, and... What the hell. I'll figure something out. I just wish our culture would give kids more credit. They aren't gonna be ruined by seeing some I just wrote Superiors 205 thru 208 (except the first line of 205--that was this morning). Still in the waiting area. This frickin Chinese jerk was shaking the row of chairs, pissing me off! Anyway, I moved and consulted the I Ching, via the old Mac program Synchronicity. Huh--Chinese guy, Chinese oracle... I guess it's--SYNCHRONICITY. Jeez. Fell right into that one. Didn't even realize it. Anyway, the trigram or whatever the hell it is indicated that I get some well-deserved rest. I asked it about The Fourth Book, Superior 209, the future of Obliviana, and all that. And it makes sense--already I was planning on the reduced minimum for each issue of OsoaWeek, and I also decided recently to hold off on the E-mber thing for now--the beta testing thing, you know. I think I talk about it up there. So with a reduced workload, I can get back on a comfortable schedule and recoup from the insane pace of the first three Books. Then I'll be at the Fifth Book--at what date? Let me see--ah yes--OsoaWeek053, Friday, July 28, 1995. Obliviana Day, eh! Then for the next year, OsoaWeek will come out Fridays. Eight days between 052 and 053! Yeah, I can see getting the E-mbers going full force then. But today? No. So I'm up to Superior 209. If you've been reading OsoaWeek, you should know that 209 is the ultimate Obliviana number--at the center of everything. I've been worried about this for months (well, not THAT worried, but it has crossed my mind), about how it should be and everything. To boot, I did a thing a buncha years ago called "Abaxial Usufruct", which I referred to as a "raw poem heap". It had 209 poems in it. Yup. I'm back--I just did Superior 209! Whew, it's done. I did 210, 211, and 212, too. I like how it came out--I basically just started writing, and after a few passages, it just came. The junk leading up to it is Superior 210. But it's still a little way off for you, tiger! Well, if you're reading this as soon as it came out, that it. Otherwise, just dig OsoaWeek040 and see how it turned out. It might refer to something big--something alluded to somewhere in Severe Repair also. What is it? You're a smart kid--you figure it out... Here I come home. My girlfriend Kerri will be waiting for me, and we'll walk home together. Train slowing down, see you next paragraph. At the park in the Neon again. Got some interesting work done on Obliviana War earlier. Saturday, you know. Things are moving along okay. The Severe Repair this issue is going great. Up to 8455 there. 29122 altogether. I'll get there, maybe tonight. It's funny. In OsoaWeek004 (06004NH), there's a list of all the publications I did prior to the dawn of OsoaWeek. And #38 there is the first issue of NomadiNews, from October of 1987. Nomadi Entertainment was the first incarnation of the idea that would eventually become Obliviana Super Occult Amusement. The whole list there goes up to 97. Huh. It'll take me a while to get OsoaWeek up there. OsoaWeek097: Friday, June 7, 1996. A little over a year. April 29, 1995 right now. 16 days late. Huh. I thought I'd been catching up. The new shorter minimum OsoaWeek format will surely be welcome. Ah, who knows. The Digital Superworld is still fetal, still preparing. Stuff like VIAT (Interactive Worlds Fair, etc.), and video games like Saturn, PlayStation, and Ultra 64 all point toward a big leap toward Digital Superworld later this year. But it'll take all of 1996 for those seeds to really grow. I'm okay. I'm on track to catch the wave. Not even 25 hours later, and I'm back in the park, back in the Neon again. It's raining now, but Kerri still wants to go Rollerblading. Thank god for PowerBook! It's doing wonders for our relationship. Had a dream last night, and I broke down and bought a complete set of Magic: The Gathering--for $120! Well, complete except for 5 pieces. I looked at what I gonna buy--cooler than I thought--hundreds of ancient-looking coins in a variety of shapes and sizes. One, the store I was buying it from had to get by negotiating with a kid and his mother, finally settling on a price of $10. Something about snow, that piece. Cool, eh? I mean, wouldn't that be awesome, a trading COIN game? They could be made out of plastic with a dull metallic finish. In the dream, there were coins of all different sizes and shapes. The game--I got the impression it was similar to a collectible card game, but each player would have a bag full of his coins. Hey man--this is a pretty friggin' good idea! Maybe I shouldn't even be tellin' y'all this... Ah, what the f*ck. Like I can really devote all my time and energy to something like that. Well... now that I think of it, I COULD do it digitally. Yeah, I have the ability to render coins like that as computer files. Yeah! It can be a companion to Obliviana War--Economy Obliviana! Or Obliviana Trade. Or Obliviana Money. Yeah--Obliviana Money sounds good. So allayou, listen up! Obliviana Money is coming out sometime soon--a collectible trading coin game! And if the digital version takes off, who knows? There are plenty of little worms out there who need something to manufacture and market! Yeeha! Welcome to the mind of the Lord of Obliviana. Why am I giving you this rare peek inside the thoughts of genius? Well, I guess part of the reason is that ideas sealed up in cardboard boxes in your parents' basement aren't doing anyone any good. I mean--what am I talking about? I mean, all the work I did when I was still living with my parents (past 3 years ago), in their basement--I had that secrecy urge. But you know, it didn't work. All the great stuff did stayed there, stuck in underground Martinsville. Until now, that is--with the blooming forth of Obliviana! Yeah, I expect that the Obliviana Archives, to be expressed as CD-ROM, WWW page, or whatever technology, will contain ALL of the stuff I've ever done. I've ASCIIized a lot of my existing work in OsoaWeek already, as you might know. But there's a lot more. Why should you care about seeing more of my work? Let me be totally honest. BECAUSE I HAVE GREAT TALENT. My work is good, and getting better all the time. And hey--humility is going out of fashion, so why be a f*cking weasel with fake humility? I mean, all these artists on award shows, the new thing is to go like "I don't know why I won--I'm no better than any of the other nominees", or "I'm just a regular guy who plays music, I'm no one special." How f*cking gay! If you have talent, you have talent--why fret about it? What does it mean? If I'm a better writer than you, that's all it means--that I can write better than you. Not that I'm better than you in any other way. So come on people! Some folks are better than others in every field of human endeavor--grow up! What do you know--I'm up on a soapbox! Yeah, whatever. Part of all this preening is to help me reassure myself that I have something good going on here with Obliviana. I mean, I get hardly any feedback from anyone on my work. Especially my family and friends--they're mildly interested at best and utterly unable to understand at the worst. They know I'm writing, but they think I'm just writing crap. I'LL SHOW THEM! I'LL SHOW ALL OF THEM! Yeah. Wow. Pretty long LOA this issue, eh? Yup. You know, the other day I was thinking--have I lost some of my classic themes? I mean, the thing I now call Dashic was once called Zoning, and I used to do it a lot. It was an aesthetic, maybe a way of life. Have I lost it? Ah, I don't think I've lost it, but I'm not living it with the intensity I once did. But, you know, I think I can look at Dashic as something different--as a card up my sleeve I can play in the future. Let me lay the mental blueprint out. Basically, I'm planning on creating, eventually, a digital entertainment service. I want to be a pioneer, and maybe I will be, but no matter what, this digital entertainment field will inevitably swell with a huge amount of clowns trying to do the same thing. THIS is when I'll play the Dashic card--by then--maybe a full decade from now?--folks'll be so beat up by the Digital Superworld that they'll be hungry for something like Dashic--a reality-based occult system of fantastic proportions. You'll see. Why am I revealing all this? Cause it don't matter. Uncreative fools have no chance of understand what I'm talking about. And by the time they do, it'll be too late. Ah, what the f*ck! I don't wanna be some scheming psycho! I just wanna create awesome realms of digital entertainment for the masses! Is that so wrong? You know, I wanna address another issue, if you'd be so kind to continue reading. You see, it refers back to the Anything But Monday days, yet again. Basically, my cohort, Mike Massotto, and myself created a quite great milieu in ABM. I really like what we accomplished--especially in the Words of Wizdumb and the Nomads features--but in all of ABM as well. The totally iconoclastic, hyper, warped, intelligent, fresh perspective. And since ABM's implosion/collapse back in 1989, I've struggled to rehabilitate my writing voice and milieu into something as good. And you know--I think I have. When OsoaWeek started some nine months ago, I don't think I was there. But maybe I'm there now. Or at least, a good ways toward getting there. Monday, May 1. I walked out of my apartment this morning to a wonderful sight--a gaggle of Canadian geese with a multitude of little goslings, couldn't have been more than a week or to old. Little ruddy yellow fellas, full of vim and vigor. They seemed to be eating the grass, or maybe bugs in the grass, or whatever. It was cool, though. Like a nature documentary. Yeah, and some of the adult birds were acting real weird and attacking each other and stuff, ripping out clumps of feathers. I tellya--these damn geese are lazy, but smart. Instead of migrating thousands of miles each year, they've discovered that Iselin, NJ is pretty livable year round. Why they've abandoned their millennia-old migration ritual is clear--they've discovered how LIKE TOTALLY AWESOME New Jersey is. Yup. So you know, I did a whole lot of work on Obliviana War last night. I'm almost ready to start creating final cards--I have all 16 card master done, a different color scheme for each of the Pelters. I don't know if I mentioned this above, but Obliviana is gonna be released as one 64-card starter deck, and 28 16-card booster packs. The game will be playable with the starter deck, but the cards in the boosters will make it a much more intricate challenge. These decks will be released, initially, as Quicktime Movies, with each frame being one card. Because they're raster files, however, the cards can be converted and released for use on any system. Thank goodness the JPEG compression keeps them somewhere in the realm of manageability. You're still talking much megabytage for the whole set, though. Re: boosters--maybe to be labeled A thru Z, with an Alpha and an Omega pack. That may work. My time at Drew University--September 1985 to May 1987--left an indelible impression on me. There was the occult war, the ABM scandal, my first girlfriend, all that. I think I'd like to go back--to explore what happened in greater detail. With my current perspective, I would appreciate events so much more. A method of time travel where you go to sleep like normal, but wake up in the past--in your body as it was at the time--but with your current mind. Spend a day there, fall asleep again, and return back to the present, waking up the next day as usual. This ability would be a great gift. No physical transfer of anything. No effects on the present due to actions in the past. Nothing. Just experiences. How to do this. I think that at least in theory, this power could work. Would it ruin your life? I don't think so. I think it would enrich it. Just think, going back every night, waking up in a different day of your past, spending half your life revisiting spots on your path. Misuse could be devastating though. Spending a day where you know all your actions will be erased as soon as you fall asleep might be too great a temptation for some individuals to go nuts. Even though it would be some sort of "pocket reality", evil done there is evil. And some people--they may wish to go back and fix one big mistake. But with this power, you can try and fix something, but it won't affect the present. Doubling your life by writing on the other side. Huh. Shall I work on this power? Maybe just willing it to happen would be sufficient? I suspect not. And once there--imagine the fear of being stuck there. Man. No good. Waking up as a baby. Dude, that'd be sick. May reveal secrets. Yeah yeah what the fock. I'm going off on a tangent again. Am I going nuts, burning the candle at both ends? Ah--real job and Obliviana--I couldn't stand the former without the latter and without the former, I'd be back in my parents basement. If they'd have me. Um, what the hell. For better or worse, this is me. The train's too damned quiet! My typing sounds loud, like I'm annoying people. Yeah, but there are people who get call on their cellulars--loud ringing, loud talking--that's tech rude stuff, not this. I always check my Walkman sound level so as not to annoy others--I know how frustrating it is to hear another person's tinny Walkman sounds. I'm in kind of a funk. Where am I? The little insulated present. If I get my time travel powers back--the major ones, mind you--will I inevitably lose interest in Obliviana? Major as in unlimited full physical transference between times. I don't know. It would certainly change my lifestyle. I don't think it would be good. My time and place right now is throwing off some substantive material, as in OsoaWeek. Don't wanna f*ck with that. The goslings. Strange primal little beasts. Whattaya know. I got pasta at home? Think I do. VR5 tonight? No, that's Friday. This is Monday. Ya got DS9 or Voyager at 8. Gotta pass on both. DS9 is a brand new episode though--big war one? Heard about it on the radio. Maybe I'll watch it. Song going through my head. Mike Watt, Chinese Firedrill. Yup. Think about my days as a DJ at WMNJ, at Drew. Yeah, it was good. Can I go back? This sleep-wake-based time travel method is pretty damn appealing. I'd like it a lot. I think it would help in understanding myself. Why not. That's gotta mess you up though, that power. Talk about living in the past. Maybe if you could only do it like once every few weeks--maybe if it was real hard to accomplish--then it might be a good power suite in your life. What am I talking about. I knew, walking into Penn Station a while ago, that I was in a weird mood and that I'd be writing weird stuff. But this time travel notion--I came up with the idea years ago--why am I revisiting it now? Maybe it's time for its dawn. Maybe not. I don't know. I think about Canada a lot too. The innocence of Toronto. Who is this Frank Edward Nora, this Lord of Obliviana. Gotta let go of this feature, feel like I could go on all day. Gotta work on Severe Repair. Yeah? This bastard's killer late, this 038. Wanna get it out tonight. Also work on Obliviana War. Watched "Repo Man" last night. Used to watch it all the time in college. One of the best movies ever made. Strain makes for good writing? Get all Obliviana. *OW* [[03038NH]] Nihilistica ***OBLIVIANA WAR CARD LIST*** Here it is! The list of all the cards from the upcoming collectible digital trading card game, Obliviana War. There are 512 cards in all, divided into 16 groups of 32, called "Pelters". The images on the cards were originally developed for a clip texture CD-ROM with 256 images. I've developed 256 more and made it into a card game. On the cards, the images appear at 128x128 pixels. All of them, however, are based on 512x512 pixel masters. Look for more info in upcoming issues of OsoaWeek! (Note: Pelter Ancient Evil was originally called Pelter Dark, but considering the "The Dark" expansion set for Magic: The Gathering, I figured it'd seem pretty lame. I came up with Pelter Dark early in 1993, though, way before the stupid Magic thing. So there! Ancient Evil sounds cooler though...) PELTER ANCIENT EVIL Alaska, Alien, AllFalse, Blink, Brew, Brick, Congo, Cove, Crossbow, Crowd, Dane, Din, FlyOver, Glacier, Gut, Hal, Hoop, HornHat, Hotel, Infernal, Isomer, Lichen, LighterFluid, Matchbook, Neuron, OldEye, Plowshare, Racetrack, The, Uncovered, Unwelcome, Wheatfield PELTER CAMPUS ArtGirl, Behavior, BioLab, Bong, ChickenMouse, Creator, Destructive, Evil, GodBullet, GoodMorning, GrapeSoda, Guitar, Horny, Hut, JackDaniels, KungFu, Lisa, LSD, MusicChannel, Nerd, Occult, Parcheesi, Pussy, RedBaron, Rushmore, SopwithCamel, Tiedye, UFO, UltimateOctober, Vodka, Weapon, Youth PELTER DEJA VU 1988, ArenaFootball, Barracuda, Basement, BlamedaySunglasses, BlueStar, Canada, Candyfall, Capricorn, Chakra, Charm, Commuter, ConvenienceStore, CottonCandySoda, DeepMind, Fizzle, Florsh, Juicing, KnightBlast, MissingFonts, Ontario, Patagonia, Provo, Purplestorm, RepoMan, Scrawl, Serendipity, Sewing, Stoned, UtahMallWander, Voluminous, Walrus PELTER FAR OUT Bantam, Blotto, Canola, Celestial, CornOilSea, Cosmiclike, Dawnmare, Dodo, Donner, Ferris, Gush, Hullabaloo, Incursion, Initiative, Jaunt, Knight, Lady, Lens, Lost, MagicBus, Noble, Operation, Reefer, RollerCoaster, Sapient, Shroom, Stuff, Torrent, Tribulation, Trifle, TuneIn, Ultrascope PELTER HAPPENING 1981, Ale, Aspirin, Balm, Bonnie, Cares, Cheyenne, Classictronica, Crunch, Depress, DisasterClass, EyeFun, FoxyLady, FutureCoolBuilding, GodInHeaven, Habanero, InProgress, Learn, Morristown, NearSummer, PalaceGallivant, Phloem, Polliwog, Poly, PsychicWave, Shiva, SillyTale, StreetFighter, SuperRiot, Total, Twinkle, Wilderdark PELTER HARD ROCK Audrey, Booze, Calamity, Carbonize, ChainSaw, Coal, Cyber, Dean, Dorm, Engulf, Helens, Holler, Ingot, Jangle, Jupiter, Like, Liquor, Madison, Molten, Moray, Ordnance, Ore, Peer, Pennsylvania, React, Ripsaw, Rockplace, Scramble, Seneca, Sex, Viper, Xylem PELTER LAWN Agriculture, BalletLesson, CardboardBox, Corky, Cornflower, Evolution, FantasyNightForest, Fieldstone, FirstWorld, FreeWorldDawn, HangingGarden, Hare, LetThereBeLight, MallChild, MistyMountains, NativeAmerican, Phenomenon, Picnic, Roadhouse, Somerville, SphereRain, SpiderAge, SpringJollity, SpringRevealing, StillLife, Strawberry, Teahouse, TheJungle, UnknownWindow, Walking, WoodRosin, Yosemite PELTER MILITARY AnnihilationNight, AttackForce, Crusade, CyberPsycho, DeadSea, DeepWar, FinalStarEncounter, Fire, FrostVampire, Furnace, GuarGum, Heart, Hephaestus, HitByStorm, HypeSquash, InfinityRun, LayWaste, MutuallyAssuredDestruction, Nunavut, Patriot, PhaseCop, Prometheus, Rome, ScienceFiction, Shield, ShockwaveFantasy, Snowblind, SpiritNuke, Stareback, TargetHeat, TropicTechNight, YellowTV PELTER MODERN AGE 1983, Admission, Blackjack, ChemLab, Citation, Comb, Conditioner, DejaVu, Dorian, Foam, Frozen, Hero, Holiday, LavaCollect, Masterful, Medal, Micro, Minnow, Office, Overtake, Pepper, Poppy, Scientific, Scribble, Season, Shaver, SkateShad, Spade, Spell, Starboard, Try, Weird PELTER MOIST ArtificialColor, AxeMutiny, AztecBull, Basketball, Corporation, FairyDreadnaught, FertileHill, FuturePopularColors, GinRummy, Ic, Knack, Lease, Leopard, Lie, Narwhal, Nipple, Offensive, OutBackDoor, PearlRoad, Plateau, Pshaw, RawDeal, Roosevelt, Route22Day, ShipAtNight, SouthXarilina, SuperColSponge, TheReflex, Tobacco, Tunic, UltraTree, Wren PELTER MONTE CARLO AirElectric, Automotive, Brijit, Casino, Cigar, ConferenceCall, Continental, CostaRican, CountryWestern, CreditCard, ForgottenRules, Glider, JetSetGoddess, Lingerie, MagicReligion, MajesticSerpent, MajorSaga, MightyMachine, MoogSleigh, MotorcycleJourney, PinkWave, Pitchfork, Potlatch, Priceless, PsychicShower, QuietRoom, SeaNight, Sofa, SpicySmoke, Superstructure, Topological, Trove PELTER MUSEUM 1776, Abandon, Airline, Ape, Bump, CafeWall, City, Communist, Cup, Damage, Dis, Exister, Expensive, Fashion, Flake, FoolsGold, Fugue, General, Goody, GreatRace, Gulf, NovaCamo, Orient, Outback, Paperer, Pawn, Royalty, Skirt, Sluff, Softener, Tribe, Wrench PELTER PEACEFUL Bermuda, Borealis, Coy, Detergent, Feminine, Flare, Flock, GodKnee, Halo, Hazy, Healers, Here, Ignite, Jethro, Last, Love, Mage, Marathon, Oceans, OddSand, Peddler, Perch, Pylon, Relax, Roller, Saturate, SeaDay, Stage, Thermal, Titan, Uncloud, Witness PELTER RUSTIC 1876, 1975, Atoll, Bishop, Cabin, Child, Columbus, Commoner, Country, Creek, EarlyAutumn, GasGiant, Halloween, Hen, Herbalist, Hierarch, Icon, Mall, Marsh, Moat, NewHay, Parch, Reactor, Rope, Ruin, Rust, Shift, Snicker, Stitch, Store, Vine, Zest PELTER TEA PARTY Aisle, Alice, Amble, Barker, Butterscotch, Cathedral, Cream, Dust, Escalator, Fad, Florence, Gadget, GodFetus, Herkimer, Lingo, Listen, Lolly, Mock, Nanny, Newglass, Nurse, OverTheHills, Pliers, Primordial, Tiger, TowerOne, Toybox, Treats, Victoria, Wombat, Wrecker, Zany PELTER WHAMMY Gearloose, GreatSeal, Gee, Guy, Hence, Hindu, KingArthur, KnaveOfSpades, Lag, LapisKing, M80, Manhattan, MisterTaco, Note, OlderGala, Politic, Quadrillion, ShowerCurtain, SixtiesBabe, Snipper, Snow, Spaced, TapestryDune, Tick, Toytown, TrueIcePhoto, Unit, Universing, Whenfield, Wilderness, Xed, Zixel ***DIARY OF A DREAMFRANK*** 4/25/95 Today me and a dreamfriend teleported to California to get some privacy. In a cave on a hill, we looked down to see a family of sasquatches! We ran away, and teleported to my apartment complex, running out of my apartment as the sasquatches caught up with us. I think the little girl sasquatch killed me. I stopped time and ran it backward and forward, and thought how cool it would be to have invulnerability and super strength, so that I would hardly feel the vicious sasquatch attack. Later, I was at boating camp, and at lunchtime I looked into a janitor closet. Inside was a bomb I had made from some Atari 2600 cartridges in a case. My memories of making it were vague, but as I slid the top cartridge in and out a few times, I realized that was the trigger to set it off. I ran outside and hurled the thing far across an expansive lawn, and it exploded harmlessly in the air. I couldn't believe what I had done. I wished I could go back and make it so that it never happened. But, I figured, at least I'd become nationally famous! I approached a cop at the blast site and he was real dick to me and said he wasn't being paid to talk to the likes of me. I went to see my girlfriend's parents, and they were watching TV, but there were no stories about me. I went up to my room at my parents' house, and I considered calling Fox News and offering to give an interview. It wasn't working. I thought that after the bomb my life would e nonstop interviews and publicity. I was even going through old photo albums to find a good bay picture of myself, for a report that might begin, "He started off as a cute little baby, but then he became a mad bomber!" I feared serious punishment--I mean, if someone else had found the bomb, they could have set it off--and I think it was strong enough to really hurt or kill someone. But the massive free publicity thing just wasn't happening. ***SONGS OF THE WEEK*** Led Zeppelin--"Achilles Last Stand" (from the album "Presence" (digitally remastered in the "Led Zeppelin Box Set")) Rush--"Marathon (live version)" (from the live album "A Show of Hands") *OW* [[04038SU]] Superior SUPERIOR 201 It is sort of the dawn of spring. It is sort of 1995. Something like spring is dawning. The road of time is big. I want more toys. Chemically pure. All the other flags are at half-mast--but yours is flying high. It's the wandin Metal Age. Personal infotransion. Just half-damn it. Girlfriend's parents' house. SUPERIOR 202 I was kring. There's a good feeling street light. Her dress, what a universe. No doubt women make life worth living. Just embrace stimulation. I love a rooftop, loe hoptac. Laser baby transport, a hint of lemon in the air. Drifting highmaker, the rainy forest idea, coming away with a bundle of good stuff. SUPERIOR 203 Let's go down to the walkways. Oh yes. When I am miserable you are dark checkerboard furnace. Oh no. Was I getting there. Yes, climbing up the hill with her, seems like another world, driving north on 23, will I ever see her again? Why do I even care? Magic days, it must have been the summer of 1987. Erin. Gone now, away far beyond Washington maybe. Gone. Those times with her--what was my problem? Why didn't I appreciate it? I was a loser. Maybe I am now too--just remembering the good of it--there were bad parts too. Yeah, better to embrace the frail remnants of the experience. Holding these wisps is a different sort of experience than when I was there. Still, I'd like to meet her again some time. That would be cool. SUPERIOR 204 We're up there. All these people working everywhere. Gotta know your options. A girl on a bed with a teddy bear--maybe she's 17. Mystery of the wander, can you clean, I am unreachable. Haha, a home from a dream, maybe a doctor's office, turn of the century, observation deck. Wonder how I do this. It's me writing. Jumping into bowling pins. If I wanna kick a door open, I do it. *OW* [[05038SR]] Severe Repair SEVERE REPAIR 38: "Deer Express" Paith Paper, the sweetheart of the bowling world, was dreaming. It was summer and hot and sticky. She was in front of a building in Skacerverd City, in her native Wehen Road. She was waiting for someone. The street was jammed with all these miniature cars, all green and yellow. And these little monsters, kind of like children, were scrambling and hoarding all around the cars. Dream-Paith, sighed and shook her head--there were more tiny cars and evil child creatures every year. Soon the city would be unlivable. She looked around for a place to sit, 'cause her friend was late. But as she turned her head, a whole area by the building seemed to swing around, preventing her from seeing it. She tried this a few more times, and sighed again. Damn spatial anomalies. More and more every year. In the distance now, she saw her friend Ronhy coming. He was the weird long-haired guy who was making a documentary about her for a graduate school project. He was running in slow motion, against a strong wind, in the bright sun. As he ran he held something high above him. It was some sort of metal stick, maybe like a pipe or something. It took him awhile to get to Paith, travelling in that exaggerated manner the whole time. When he got to her, he was panting for breath and smiling. He was huge. Much bigger than she remembered him. Maybe eight feet tall, and massive. He grinned down at her, and held out the metal rod in presentation. She stared at it. The way he was holding it--it was as if he thought she'd know what it is. But she just started shaking her head "no". He smiled for a few more seconds, then spoke. His voice was unusually sweet and gentle, like heavenly chimes. "Do you know what it is?" "Uh, no Ronhy." "I'll tell you." "Um, okay." "It's a thing from the deep hamlets of Brendahen Coastal." "Yeah?" "Yes. It's an elevator jones. See?" "No." Ronhy laughed, and put a giant hand on Paith's shoulder. "Come on Paith, I'll show it too you." Paith raised an eyebrow. "Not that!" he yelled in good humor. "This!" He shook the elevator jones. She smiled and followed him into the building. They got to an elevator bay. It was a hotel or office center or something they were in. One of the elevators opened, ad some people got on. He turned to her. "We have to get on alone." "Okay." They waited a minute, and another elevator opened. No one else was in sight. "This is it." Ronhy said smiling. She followed him into the elevator, worried he wouldn't fit at his new size, but he had no problem. Maybe he wasn't so big after all. With his foot blocking the door from closing, Ronhy then started unscrewing something in the middle of the elevator jones. She saw two rubber pads flip out of wither side of the thing. Then, Ronhy extended the device so that one end rested on each side of the elevator. A few more twists, and the elevator jones was tight in place. "Whew!" he let out. "Now we're ready." He moved his foot away from the door, and a few moments later the elevator closed. As soon as the door were shut, a bunch of dull, dirty lights came to life in the elevator jones. A smell of ozone, like during a rain, pervaded the elevator. Ronhy fiddled with some controls on his device, and soon they began moving. Up, it felt like. She looked around the cab--something was different--the lighting maybe? After about half-a-minute, there was a big jolt, and the back of the elevator was gone. Through the open space, she saw that they were racing forward through a subterranean passage, oddly lit with purple light. "What the hell is going on?" she yelled over the din of their passage. "Jonesin'!" Ronhy yelled, and then he laughed a maniacal laugh. She pressed her body against the elevator door, unable to take her eyes off the cavern rushing by. But soon, the purple light got brighter and brighter, and a few moments later became a solid gray glare. The back wall swung back into place and Ronhy crouched down. "Come on!" he said, motioning with his hand for her to crouch as well. Now he seemed smaller than usual, approaching midget level. She complied and crouched. "Hold on to your bowling bag!" he said, covering his head with his hands. She half-heartedly did the same. A rumble turned into a roar, and the air pressure around them increased dramatically. It pressed on her ears and the rumbling got quieter, but she could feel that it was getting heavier. The tumult grew for another minute or two, and then, when she felt she couldn't take it anymore, it stopped. The air pressure returned to normal in a cool breeze, and she felt light. She looked up. Now it was the top of the elevator that was gone. And beyond it--grass. Well-tended grass. Were they somewhere with a grass ceiling? Ronhy looked up and smiled. Standing, he grasped the elevator jones with both hands. "Come on." he said, looking down at her. "Grab onto it!" He was back to normal size now. Paith was glad. She got up, and staring into Ronhy's eyes, lightly grasped the rod. "Hold on tight." he said, as he moved his face toward the device. He positioned his nose next to a control switch, and pressed it. Immediately, gravity shifted--up was down, down was up. Paith just managed to keep hold as she was swung unceremoniously around, to find herself dangling above the opening, now below her. It was a pretty good drop. "On the count of three, I'm gonna release the jones. We'll fall, but the jones will slow us down a little. We'll be fine." "Okay." "Alright. One... two... three!" He flicked a switch with his thumb, and the elevator jones. released it's grip on the walls, and they quickly fell. Paith found herself on the grass a second later, none the worse for wear. Her arms were still straight up, holding onto the device, but Ronhy let it down, and Paith let go. Her looked over at her. "Welcome to a garden." "Huh?" She looked around, and as far as the eye could see there rested a wonderful garden, complete with pathways, mazes, gazebo, covered walkway, all that. She wandered around the garden with Ronhy for an indeterminate period of time. Finally, she found herself in a large area totally covered with branches and vines, like a big room. "Wow." she said, regarding Ronhy's elevator jones. "That thing is sure great. You can make any elevator like that?" "Yup. It does a whole bunch of stuff." "Cool. Wish I had one in... well, um... this is a dream, right? I always get cool things in dreams and wind up--I don't know--disappointed when I wake up." "Why not use Deer Express?" "What?" "Deer Express. They make deliveries from Dreamworld to Reality. Should be just what you're looking for." "What do you mean?" "I'll show you. All you have to do is remember a chant--don't worry, not a boring religious one--more like a little nursery rhyme." "Yeah?" "Yeah. I'll say it, and they'll come. You'll see." "Hey, knock yourself out." Paith said, looking away, poopooing the whole matter." Ronhy softly recited the chant. "Slumber revel is the dream, things aren't always what they seem, sometimes if I have a thing, home with me I'd like to bring, I sing aloud this little chant, you come to do it, since I can't, I'll pay your price, and nothing less, I call to you, Deer Express." Paith laughed a little. "Cute." She looked over at Ronhy, but he just smiled. A moment later, she heard the sound of a galloping horse approaching. Turning, she saw a horse indeed round a corner and come into the clearing. It was going fast--but she saw that the rider... had antlers. The horse stopped in front of them, and she got a good look at the rider--he had the body of a man, but the head of a deer. Well, maybe he was all-deer, just shaped like a man. He wore an ornate outfit with military overtones, and his eyes blazed with awareness and intelligence. Paith wore a worried expression and turned to Ronhy. "Oh ye of little faith..." he said under his breath. "Greetings." the deer man said. "I am Courier Arbhay. I respond to your call." Ronhy stood up. "Uh, yes." he said, speaking carefully. "I chanted on behalf of my friend here, Paith Paper. She expressed a desire to take things from her dreams. This, in particular, for now." He held up the elevator jones. The deer man looked at it, then over to Paith. The rider smiled. "You're going to like what I have to tell you Paith Paper--" the supernatural being said. "Someone registered an account with us, on your behalf." "What?" "Your account is in surplus--you may use our service many, many times without owing anything." "Yeah?" "That's pretty good." Ronhy said. "The toll they charge is pretty extreme." "Like what?" Paith asked of the deer guy. "There are a variety of ways to pay. Dream indenture. Soul fire. Time. Right usage. And many others." "What, you have to sell your soul?" she asked. "Not so extreme. Just something like lending your soul, perhaps." "I thought I said this was a dream." Paith said. "So none of this is real." The deer man smiled again. "If you say so, this device your dreamfriend holds will be delivered to your door--in Reality--by me, this morning." "Why not! Yeah, go ahead. Do it." Paith said. Then she looked over at Ronhy. "Are you really in this dream?" "No." the rider said. "He is dreamfriend, nothing more. A fragment of your own mind." "Oh. So how come he knew about you?" The courier glared down at Paith. "It is YOU who know about us. Your benefactor delivered the information to your subconscious. At least, that's what makes the most sense." "Okay." she said. "So go ahead, deliver the elevator jones to me." "I shall." Arbhay said. "Come friend, hand the thing to me." Ronhy walked forward and gave Arbhay the elevator jones. The deer man looked it over. "Cute." he said. "I shall see you after you wake up. You will be shocked to see me--please stay calm." "I'll be okay." Paith said. "Good. See you soon." And Courier Arbhay rode off. "That was weird." Paith said. "Yeah." Ronhy responded. They wandered around the garden some more, for an indeterminate amount of time. * * * Posing a newlyweds, Lunatether and me were looking for a place to live. We got to Peeferkihint earlier in the day--we tried to make the final jump to a time of day near our biological clocks, and got pretty close. After getting away from Walker Fantive, we made a short journey about nine years into the past, and stayed at the same motel we'd been in before all the business with Carroll Mammock. While Lunatether and I slept, Carroll accompanied the tock hound to a nearby abandoned lot, so that the best could get some well-deserved rest. After a good night's--or day's sleep (it was morning when Bandelion made her final leap that nine years, exhausted)--we continued the rest of the way back, the rest of the 25 years. Once we were at the right time, we still had to go through the hassle of selling some gold and buying another motor vehicle. It wasn't too hard--we told the guy we'd take 50% the going rate in exchange for no questions. It took another few hours to buy a truck. Again, we had to bribe the salesman to sell us the truck--he was insisting to see some identification. But we got it. The drive to Peeferkihint took the rest of the day, so we stayed in a hotel in the outskirts of Peeferkihint--a hell of a lot nicer than that horrible little motel. We got a big room, a suite maybe, and Bandelion came into the hotel with us. Carroll also stayed in the room--there was like a bedroom and a living room kind of setup. I was uneasy sleeping knowing that Carroll was in the other room, but the strain of all the time travel help me attain slumber in minutes. So we were with this real estate agent, looking at a cool place--a building with living quarters, an office, and a warehouse--mostly furnished. It was $30,000. I figured it was a lock--perfect for our purposes, and I had the cash on me. So I had the real estate chick wait outside while I talked to Lunatether. She loved the place, so I called the woman back in. "Okay, we want it." "Great! Now we have to go through a mountain of paperwork, schedule the closing, I'll contact the board, the city inspector will need to give us a certificate, there are a bunch of applications to--" "No." I said. "Huh." "No. We want this place NOW. We want to move in NOW." "That's impossible." "Yeah? Let me tell you--some things are impossible, but a thing like this--no. It's possible." "I don't think so, Mr. Ferrajalt, uh..." "This is the sort of thing we can make happen with money. All you have to do is tell me how much you need." "I don't--I mean, it's not..." But I could see the little wheels start to turn in her head. "You see what I mean." I said. "With the right amount of money, it can all be done without any more bother to me and my lovely wife here." I put my arm around Lunatether and pulled her to me. My "bride" smiled. "Well--I see your point Mr. Ferrajalt. But We'd be talking about a lot more than $30,000." "Sixty." I said. "Plus another ten for you when it's all settled." She was nonplused. "S-sixty?" "That's right. Cash. Right here. Right now. And the additional ten later." She stared at me, and I could see she was trembling. "I hope this isn't any sort of a trick." "You agree, and I'll see in about two minutes whether it's a trick or not." "O-okay, Mr. Ferrajalt. I accept. But remember, there may be certain... forces... beyond my control." "You need more than sixty." She bit her lip. I had a pretty good handle on graft. And I knew she'd have more than enough for this sort of thing. "No... sixty should just about do it." "Just about." I said. "Come on." She followed me outside to the truck, and I went in. "Gimme a minute." I said. Soon I got out of the truck and handed her $60,000 in cash. She gulped. "Heh heh. What if I just run off with this." I stared at her. She said it jokingly, but I knew she sought some sort of information regarding how potentially dangerous this deal might be. "You lose the extra $10,000. Oh, and also you die a horrible death." She looked up at me with a sly smile. "Guess I won't then." I smiled back at her. "Another part of the deal?" I said. "No more questions." "Just one more. So I can sleep at night. This isn't blood money..." "I give you my word it isn't." "Good." she said with a sigh. * * * Damn if Lunatether isn't full of surprises! Our first night in Deep Violt, Jr. (as we dubbed the place, ha ha) I was joking with her about running out of money, even though we had a bunch of gold left. She smiled and told me coyly how getting more gold would be no problem. I asked her why, and she blushed as she told me she had a matter handler that had once been within her. One of her potential daughters. Ludrashay's sister. All she needed to do was activate it and WHAM, we got a Warhome again. She even said she'd been talking to Litrainlace, as the Warhome was named. Scary. "But," I said, "if you weave her, then how can she time travel?" "She can't. Not on a tock hound. And I don't know any other way." "Huh. So what--all of your names start with L?" "That's the way everything was set up. Yes. All the names are L-starting." "Hmm." I said, nodding. We had a little suite of living quarters, and there were two others. Carroll took one for himself, and Bandelion was satisfied with her own corner of the warehouse. It was an interesting time we were in. The new generation rejecting tradition in a big way. Cool art, cool music, much conflict. I felt kind of bad with my smug, knowing attitude about all of it. There was such... an innocence in everyone here. Huh. I thought about my home often. Sh*t, I could have been there by now, if not for this idiotic quest. I'd have reconnoitered with Overwhelm, and had someone take me back. I'd be back in the palace, weathering the fallout of my abandonment. The press and the people would want answers. If I told them the truth, the big story would be that I flipped out. Lost my mind. No good. So I'd have to come up with some elaborate lie. A lie that would make me look good. If this building is true--if Deep Violt C can take you anywhere, the first place I'll go is home. Man, with the power I have--the power I can acquire from my supernatural connections--jeez, I could take over the world and then some. Take over many worlds. Conquest. In my genes. Feels good. Deep Violt, Jr. was a really cool place. The living quarters me and Lunatether were in were really well-designed and well-lit. Comfortable. I knew we'd be making love soon. And I felt horrible that all I could think of was Hilltop Jone Rallity. Lunatether had the body, but the didn't have the spark. I wanted to f*ck Hilltop in Hilltop's body. Not Lunatether. But I feathered my nest with this foolishness, no sense breaking the poor machine's heart. How goddamn stupid, he whole thing. You'd think I could be happy with great sex every night. Yeah, Lunatether was real good. Maybe too good. She just went right at it. All the moves were right, but there was no texture to it. She was flat. I feel sorry to say that, but it's the truth. It's what I'm experiencing every night now. Deep Violt C. It can take me right back to Hilltop. Yup. It can take me away from Lunatether. She can go to a me who loves her fully, a me who never thinks of the real Hilltop. Damn, but I know I could make love to the real Hilltop so good now--I was getting to know her body and her sexual response so well. I could break her wall of ice. And I swore to myself I would. Right that moment Lunatether walked in, and I felt sick at myself. Real bad. But I hid it. Taking Deep Violt C to another Deep Violt--yeah. To anywhere, Carroll said. Could it realize anything you could imagine? Maybe, but my time with overwhelm taught me a lot about "be careful what you wish for, you just might get it"--I knew that a person's experience of something was based on both his position and his surroundings. If you're stuck in a boring little job in a boring little place, it won't take much to thrill you. Godlike like me, you need a lot more. And if ya Deep Violt yerself, ferget it. Yer screwed. Doing it with Lunatether I forgot about a lot. I could get lost in her. Like getting lost in the corridors of her when she was a Stormbolthouse. To think, I never knew of her longings for me, and there I was, inside of her, f*cking android bodies she controlled. Insensitive? How was I to know a machine could have feelings. Or--is she truly still an automaton, just programmed to act like she has feelings. An image of a person in a movie can seem to have feelings, but it's just film and light and screen. It's programmed. Was Lunatether aware? She seemed to be. But she also seemed like a machine. Oh, just let go, bury myself in her, hide from the painful presence of Hilltop Jone Rallity in my soul. * * * Paith Paper woke up, having to piss badly. She got up and relieved herself in the bathroom, and as she did, bits and pieces of the night's dreams came to her. The bad elevator. Ronhy. The weird stick he used--the elevator jones. The garden. The deer guy, who said he'd deliver the elevator jones to her in reality. Hah. Her doorbell rang, and she froze, there on the toilet. It was very rare for someone to be at her door this early in the morning. Thoughts flashed and scratched. The deer guy? Nah. Probably some religious nut trying to convert her. She took care of herself and got up, putting a robe on She stood by the door, silent for a moment. So sound. Carefully then, she opened the door--just a crack at first, then all the way. No one there. A chill ran up her spine. A second later she heard the sound of a galloping horse. moment after that she saw it--the horse with the antlered rider, comin fast down the street. She tried to convince herself she was still dreaming, but there was no way--this was reality. She got a sinking feeling as the deer guy quickly approached. The feeling sank deeper when she saw the package the deer man was carrying in a saddle pack. It was sticking out. It was wrapped up, but it couldn't have been anything else than the elevator jones from the dream. For some reason, she became extremely calm, and watched as Courier Arbhay rode into her driveway, dismounted, and walked right up to her with the package. "Good to see you again." he said as he climbed the steps to her little porch. She couldn't find any words. "Here's your package, fresh from Dreamworld." he said, handing her the elevator jones. She took it limply in her hands. "Here." Arbhay said, producing a clipboard. "I need your signature." She stared dumbly at the document. "No, no." he said. "Nothing devious. Just an acknowledgment of receipt." She nodded and signed the piece of paper. "Thanks." he said. "Is..." Paith began, looking Arbhay right in the eyes. "Yes?" "Is there anything I should... know about this?" He regarded her. "About Deer Express or the delivery?" "Both." "What can I say? We deliver objects from dreams to Reality. Even extremely strange things--like the device you hold." She looked up at the majestic being. "How do I know I'm still not dreaming?" He smiled. "Everyone asks that. But if you think about it, the experience of Reality is clearly different than the experience of dreaming. You should be able to tell the difference." Paith looked down. "I know." There was an awkward silence that Arbhay broke. "Uh... I know this may sound bad, but I was wondering if, uh... if you might like to go out with me sometime." Paith looked up, a skeptical and bewildered look on her face. "What?" "I understand if you're not comfortable with it. I mean, I must seem pretty scary to you." "I... I..." "You don't have to respond. I'm not going to push it. If the administrators ever got wind of this--of a Courier trying to get involved with a client, well..." "Well what?" "I'd be in some very hot water." "Yeah?" "Oh yeah." She studied him. Definitely attractive, very human-seeming. But still, a lotta deer going on... "How could we go out? I mean, everyone will freak out seeing you." "They'll see me the way I want them to see me. You'd be surprised how many folks there are out there cloaking their true bodies. I mean a lot." "Yeah?" "Yeah. So that part would be no problem." "But... you mean here, in Reality...? "Yeah. No good to do it in Dreamworld." "Uh-huh." "So look--think about it. If you give me the go-ahead, I'll be back here in a week's time for the answer." "You could do that." "Good. And I'll be listening for your chant. Hopefully I'll get to you before anyone else does." "Okay." "I have to go now. See you in a week if not sooner. I... I think you're beautiful. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." "Thank you." And he rode off. *OW* [[06038CN]] Contents of OsoaWeek038, April 13, 1995 BEGIN 01 038 CV--Cover 02 038 LA--Lord of Obliviana 03 038 NH--Nihilistica 04 038 SU--Superior 05 038 SR--Severe Repair 06 038 CN--Contents END *OW* [[END038OW]] -------> ------------------- ----------- -------- -- -----