Nishinomiya, Japan
May 16, 2006 (local date)
10:44 PM (local time)

The observers watched silently from their outside vantage point, surveying the empty city cloaked in starless darkness within the bubble that encapsulated it. For those with the ability to see it properly, the bubble held more than just the city that seemed to fill it – it mapped onto a much larger space-time, one from which the city was drawn.

Someone with the proper range of knowledge and experience might have found a deep and disturbing similarity between its relationship to the larger universe from which it had been spawned, and that of a voodoo doll or other item of sympathetic magic to its linked target. What was done to the one, would be done to the other.

The observers were quite aware of this similarity. Indeed, it was precisely why they were observing it.

That, and its inhabitants.

Two of them appeared to be ordinary humans, not quite fully grown, one male, one female. The rest were not humans, though they were, loosely speaking, humanoid. Towering figures of translucent blue light, they strode through the darkness-enshrouded city and lashed out at it as though disgusted and angered by its very existence. With each blow a building crumbled and its neighbors shuddered; even the very fabric of space-time seemed to strain and crack under their force.

The two humans were watching this from a vantage point which was by no definition of the word safe, although it was safer by comparison to the immediate vicinity of the giants of light. The female was enthralled by the sight of the city's destruction, her eyes wide and her grin wider. The male was agitated and all but panic-stricken.

"She's definitely contributing to the greater problem," one of the observers noted.

"Yes," replied another. "But unlike most of the other affected timelines, we've been able to isolate and insulate this timeline and its parallels."

"Parallels?" Another of the observers spoke up. "How many are we talking about?"

The second sighed. "Too many. But fortunately they're clustered into a tight skein, and we can affect all of them with measures applied to the skein as a whole."

"And they're all evincing this kind of radical disruption?" asked the first.

"Unfortunately, yes. And some of it spilled out of the skein before we sequestered it. In some – most – of them the principal players were poised for displacement." The second observer paused for a moment before continuing. "Shall we let an averaged waveform of the potential displacees collapse into the Refuge timeline?"

"No!" The first observer's vehemence was unexpected, and the others flinched at it. "The last thing we need is a version of her loose there – she'd completely destroy what makes it a safe haven for the others."

"Filter her out of the refugee pattern," a fourth spoke up. "Just let the others through so that we might preserve them, at least."

"That would be pointless," said a fifth observer. "I've just run the scenario through several million simulations. Almost all her variants will inevitably figure out how to come after them and do so, for reasons ranging from ego to loyalty to simple loneliness, and in the process of breaking the quarantine on the skein they will exacerbate the problem beyond our ability to contain."

"And what would happen when a nigh-infinite number of her variants all converge on Refuge, only to find a single set of her companions?" asked the third.

"Thankfully, that's not a problem," the fifth replied. "The simulations show that all those wave functions would also collapse into a single instance upon entry to the timeline."

The third frowned. "And if that instance of her doesn't match the instance of her companions which manifested in Refuge, we're back to the original problem. No, we can't let them enter. It's cruel, but necessary."

The first nodded slowly. "I am inclined to agree. Are there any objections?"

There were none.

"Then let us go," the first said, "and seal the skein behind us."

"It still troubles me to leave them to their fate," the fourth said softly as they walled off the doomed timelines and began their return.

"Fortunately, they are not alone," the first confided. "One of our own has chosen to incarnate in all the timelines of the skein. And he has no small experience with watching over godling children. Suzumiya Haruhi in all her many variations can have no better guide, guard and friend than Kyôn Khryseos."

(01-02-2023, 09:36 AM)Bob Schroeck Wrote: Oh yeah, I meant to drop a post on the board that all the Sherlock Holmes stuff is now public domain. Thanks for the link!

Also, I'll note that a year from now, Steamboat Willie is due to go into the public domain, too. In the past, whenever Steamboat Willie has even got a whiff of the public domain Disney has pulled out all the stops and gotten extensions of copyright duration rammed through Congress. It will be interesting to see if they do it again this year.

But that's a topic for another thread, in a different section of the board.

Blossom Apartments, Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
September 25th, 2016
7:55am ET


Makoto was worried. She'd noticed Misaka-san looking at her, appraising her the way that she would appraise a potential opponent in a martial arts match.

She didn't want to fight her housemate. She had barely finished unpacking her new clothes and kitchenware. And it had barely been a week (in her personal timeline) since Usagi had undone what Galaxia had done to her. She was still tired.

They were all tired.

Maybe the others could suggest something.

Opening the new cursed thread, one of the Pointer Sisters has left us...

Anita Pointer of The Pointer Sisters dies at age 74 | CNN

As we head into the last hour of 2022 here on the East coast of the United States, I'd just like to wish everyone on the forums a happy new year. Here's hoping 2023 is better in all ways for all of us.

Antigonish, Nova Scotia, Canada
September 25th, 2016
9:51am AT

Quote:Are you xenophobic? This is not for you. We dearly need an open-minded person. He or she must be in good health, fluent in English with some French, some knowledge of business practices or property maintenance essential, willing to assist the people around him or her. Permanent employment, pay and lodging, comprehensive health care, opportunities to learn and teach. You must apply in person at 39 Church Street Extension, Antigonish, NS

The unseasonably warm weather the past few days was apparently enough to see a mushroom springing up near enough the path I travel to pick up the mail to notice. It was quite large and strange looking, but I didn't have the camera with me, it was gone later, and I didn't want to touch it to avoid becoming the first entry in a new Cursed Thread for 2023.

Though looming larger in my memory, my impression at the time was that it was about 1 1/2" x 2" (or 3x4 cm) and either a puffball or still very rounded with a short stem so it looked like one, flesh pale white and smooth over all but most of the top covered by a net of very pale red filled with fairly pale blue - a true blue as few things in nature are - such that the easiest way to draw it would be to start with pink ovals about the size of a fingertip, edges intersecting but not continuing to overlap after the first two or three until most of the space was filled, then add a squiggle in the center of each that in most cases forms an actual question mark, then fill in the ovals with that pale, icy, sky blue. No noticeable smell, and it did not appear particularly slimy/damp or powdery/dry, just plain like a portabello you might find in the grocery.

After it was gone, there was the sort of lingering smell that suggested a skunk may have been responsible.

Strange Messenger, by the duo Vixy & Tony, is about the story of Humboldt's Parrot: a bird that survived not just its owners, but their entire people, leaving it the only source for scholars to learn about their language.

Quote:He was exploring South America, the first to venture there
In an age of change and reason, new discoveries everywhere
Along the Orinoco, the great river corridor
He heard tell of a people who had fled a tribal war

It was said they chose seclusion over death or life as slaves
But in their sheltered grotto, he found only simple graves
And one brightly colored messenger, whom no one understood
Spoke the language of a people who had disappeared for good

    So tell me, bold explorer, as you wandered through the leaves,
    Did you ponder unknown losses that the very Cosmos grieves?

    Was it halting? Was it flowing? Was it lilting and divine?
    Was it fearless as your native tongue, mercurial as mine?
    Would it pique a linguist's interest? Would it hold a poet's thrall?
    Did the words of one strange messenger tell you anything at all?

He kept a careful chronicle, transcribing what he heard
Of the tribe's entire language, there remained just forty words
Complexity and structure, how it tastes and how it sings
Time devoured all but scattered words for scattered things

And can we archaeologists, with bits of sound like runes
Ever paint a living portrait of a people in their tombs?
Could we somehow come to know them? Will we ever even try?
Sifting through linguistic ruins for the clues to how and why

    So tell me, bold explorer, as you wandered through the leaves,
    Did you ponder unknown losses that the very Cosmos grieves?

    Was it halting? Was it flowing? Was it lilting and divine?
    Was it fearless as your native tongue, mercurial as mine?
    Would it pique a linguist's interest? Would it hold a poet's thrall?
    Do the words of one strange messenger tell us anything at all?

To those who study history, it seems a bitter curse
The loss of language terrible, the lost potential worse
Past and future stories multiplied a thousandfold,
Vanished out of history and never to be told

Were they beautiful and gentle? Would they call us friend or foe?
What wisdom did they live by? What secrets did they know?
It's a symphony reduced to what a single bird can sing
The forest lost their language, and they lost everything

    So tell me, bold explorer, as you wandered through the leaves,
    Did you ponder unknown losses that the very Cosmos grieves?

    Was it halting? Was it flowing? Was it lilting and divine?
    Was it fearless as your native tongue, mercurial as mine?
    Would it pique a linguist's interest? Would it hold a poet's thrall?
    Do the words of one strange messenger tell us anything at all?

Quote:Mr. Ikari,

You are no longer in the same universe that you grew up in. Your desire for a normal life but also a life with magic caused the divine instrumentality that maintains your universe to have a glitch. The same instrumentality also maintains other realities, and there were other people in other universes who did other things that also caused glitches. It is not completely your fault that things happened the way they did.

Most of your classmates do not remember Third Impact. This is for their own sanity. When people arrive in this universe, causality has a brief moment when it is malleable enough to adapt to the presence of the newcomers, to make it seem like they have always been present here. We simply took advantage of that effect to ease your friends' minds in accordance with what you wanted. Rei Ayanami remembers Third Impact, but she is a very special case

The adults in your group - Misato Katsuragi, Ryoji Kaji, Ritsuko Akagi, and Maya Ibuki - also remember Third Impact. If you have any difficulty in adapting to the world you find yourself in, please reach out to whichever of them you trust the most.

Quote:If they are not able to help you, then reach out to your building manager, Harley Waters. As an outsider who is familiar with your life in Tokyo-3, Harley has an unusual viewpoint that might provide new insights into your troubles.

And if that doesn't work, ask Harley to put you in contact with people in the other residences that are owned by Funtom Property Management. That will definitely change your perspective, although that runs the risk of shattering your perspective to the point that you would be unable to cope with anything, so please do not make that request without careful consideration and planning.

Please know that you are liked and respected, and in some cases you are loved. You are the star of your own story - that phrase is a cliché, but in your case it is truer than you might think. Have faith in yourself and stand tall.

Belldandy.