[The Delve] 07/01/16: A Visitor In A Strange Land

>Send emergency message to the chief janitor

You can’t, you just broke up with him this morning!

(Besides, he likes to call himself the Chief of Staff.)

go see if you can rifle through the garbage. your arms are wooden so you shouldn’t feel any sludge you gotta touch.

The items must have been tossed down the garbage chute and already on their way to be recycled. Everything on the station is printed on demand - tools, clothing, furniture, droids - and when no longer in use they are broken down back to mimeomorphic paste, ready to be re-constructed into whatever is needed.

Oh no, this will not do.
Relax; breathe in - hold - breathe out.
Good vibes. Mellow. MELLOW. Calm.
Now you can plot revenge.

Alright.

Focus.

You still have the schematics of the items saved in your personal cloud, and you can always print another copy of the dice your father gave to you or the Inspector Horse & Car Show Collector’s Issue Limited Run Memorial Mug. You have everything backed up. Nothing is lost.

It is a matter of principle. Maybe you would have liked to get a new pair of curtains or the boxed set of your favorite show this month, but now you are forced to spend some of your hard-earned credits recovering your childhood memorabilia just because of the actions of one malfunctioning over-ripe piece of hardware. Infuriating!

You swear that if you ever catch the Custodian in the act you will turn it into something suitably ironic, like a bucket and a mop, then silence a call from Ibris who is already getting worried what is taking so long. You are sad and angry and tired and just want to be over with this day. The sooner you do your job the sooner you get to pass out!



You utter the incantations and make the gestures, mind carefully numbed to the sheer impossibility of what you are trying to do. Your movements are rigid and precise, thoughts reigned in like holding breath with your brain.



Magic - real magic - is not about spiritual enlightenment or discovering hidden knowledge of God’s works. It is about strict adherence to form, about rote repetition of a protocol to channel terrifying power.



It is about following the letter not spirit of the natural laws, about interpreting the poorly worded sections in the most convoluted way imaginable so they do not apply to you.



It is about inviting the universe to a fake tea ceremony and not letting it leave until you have had your way with it.



Magic is about cheating politely and not getting caught.



“Ibris, status report please.”



“The forecast is calm, global psychoscape at nominal levels. Translation lag 53 ms, your current lag 0.11 ms. Lag accumulation rate at safe 0.001 ms/ms. You are clear to go, have a good voyage Aino!”



“Roger that. Proceeding to the thermocline.”







You are nearing your destination. What shape will you take?