Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 2] [Acidity City]
06-23-2012, 02:22 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by TimeothyHour.
“You are not a God,” Six insisted, absentmindedly. “God does not exist.”
“No, my friend,” he remarked with a shrug. “In the words of the esteemed philosopher Quotolxotl: ‘God is dead.’
“INCORRECT,” Six said, to blank stares. “Nietzsche, you mean. Nietzsche.”
The blade did not whirr or rev or begin to spin.
“Either way,” Dice continued, staring right into the robot’s singular “eye.” “Who do you think killed him?”
Silence, save for the music of a 21st century “indie” musician2.
Six paused another beat, and clicked a bit as various Social/Language Ambiguity3 processors ran calculations, adjusted his custom-constructed 100x Zoom Canon/Kodak/Nikon viewer lens4 back, forth, back. Another pause, before his HD-quality audio VocaloidChord™ throat-lodged speakers warmed up again, spoke.
“Question 44: Was that… a rhetorical question?”
The personification of entropy blinked. “Uh, no. I really want you to guess.”
Six recalibrated.
“Question 45: Have we killed him?”
“Not “we,” my dear Gamehost. Me.5”
Six stared at Dice for a long time, transfixed, like a statue, thinking, comprehending, logic circuits working against/for/despite this new information, getting into his head, this information was getting into his head. One two three four five six. One two three four five six.
“Question 46, Dice: What if I don’t—what if I don’t believe you.”
Entropy yawned.
“Do you believe in death? The inevitable decay of life, of the forces that let you do what you call a profession, murder, destruction, disintegration, elimination?”
“N6—” MEDIAPOLITCS PHILOSOETHICS SUBROUTINE ACTIVATED7 “Yes.”
“Then,” Dice, said, his smile stretching across centuries. “You believe in me.”
ÜbS.9 Alexander Chernyovskaya’s eyes were personally transfixed at the viewscreen, currently offering high-definition, fairly real-time, first-person footage of one reverse-engineered android flying over the remains of a great and acidic10 civilization, specifically, a really-quite-recently-bombed-out, religiously-slanted Observatory.
He licked his lips, drummed his fingers on his desk, and spoke.
“Why, exactly, did we fire missiles at that building?” he asked, glancing around.11
“Show of power12,” replied ████ █████████13, who was sitting next to him. “We need more worshipers.”
“Oh.”
A few hundred yards away, a sawblade began to whirr. A baby giggled.
(god)(-1)=satan
feel the metal give way
“Jesus Christ, could you pay attention once in your freaking life?” ████ █████████ said. She was really quite agitated, waving her arms around, ranting about something how, “in HER line of work, not paying attention could cost you your LIFE, depending on the chronology, SEVERAL TIMES,” going on and on, with Chernyovskaya not caring, etc., in something that could be out of a TV Drama or Sitcom.
That is, until she looked at the screen.
Light shone from every inch of Dice’s body, burningly, impossibly bright, swirling with images of murder and suicide and blood and rot and war and controlled/uncontrolled demolition and black holes and supernovae and oxidization14, the sound of a thousand screams and Bon Iver’s “Woods” (Blood Bank, 2009), wailing under Entropy’s voice, loud and tall and proud and forever:
“CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN”
Emma was very entertained. Space ceased to exist all that properly, folding, twisting15, ripping, ripping ripping YOU COULD SEE THE SEAMS, INTO EVERY UNIVERSE.16
“like misery” thought Six. “misery”
“CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN, (to slow down the ti—) CUT THE CHAI—(me—)N”
Six’s blade whirred, again.
Apparently, in their constant bickering, no one had noticed that The WTF Ration17 18 had dropped to zero upon Envoy’s arrival to round three, but everyone sure was noticing it, and freaking out, now that the tWTF-Ron was at, like, four million.
Of course, HQ was in an uproar:
“Can somebody pinpoint the source of this, this 'ration?'”
“We have an Elite Team of Specialists on it.”
“How elite can they be!? No one even really knows what the tWTF-Ron even really represents!”
“Should we ground Envoy? We have no idea what this would do to him?”
“Landing could be even more dangerous, in these conditions! We don’t even know! We have zero information!”
“Why didn’t we do more studies on Tertiary Measurments!?”
“fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”
“WE CANNOT TOLERATE YOUR COARSE LANGUAGE RIGHT NOW, MUHOMMED DELANCY!”
“Says you, to quote the Boston Globe-Herald19, “Ms. Pottymouth!”
“Everyone SHUT UP!”
They did not shut up. Dr. Bart Hunter20, who had issued the warning, sighed. It was for a situation precisely like this that he had had a megaphone brought in.
“WE HAVE INFORMATION,” his voice boomed over the cacophony. “WE KNOW WHERE THE ENTROPY-EVENT IS HAPPENING. NOW EVERYONE SHUT UP.”
A google-maps-style (city reproduce perfectly, little tag marking the location, and all) chart appeared on one of the screens. ████ █████████ stared at it for a long time.
“So, that’s where the event is happening, yes?” she said.
“Uh, that would be correct, yes,” Dr. Hunter said, rolling his eyes. Women.
“And we’ve never seen an event like this happen, ever, anywhere, right?”
“Mhm.”
“And we might never get another opportunity like this one to study it, right?”
“I suppose so, miss.”
“…”
“…”
“…who votes we fly right at it?”
YOU ARE CURRENTLY ON SPECTATOR MODE. IF YOU DO NOT HAVE PRE-APPROVAL TO ACCESS LEVEL 200-CLASSIFIED COFCANET DIGITAL INFORMATION, DON’T WORRY, WE ALREADY KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHERE TO FIND YOU. A TERMINATION TEAM HAS BEEN SENT TO YOUR LOCATION.
CURRENT OPERATION: Rocketboots On; running “flying in wide, sweeping figure-eights and circles” command has been in operation for—
New command received: “Fly towards [location code: Entropy Event]. Commencing…”
500 meters…
400 (speeding up)…
200 (“brake” activated)…
100…
50…
25…
COFCANET-COMPATABLE ELECTRONIC DEVICE FOUND. CONNECTING…
landing…
CONNECTED.
DEVICE ID : “MediaPolitics Gamehost Six, Channel 9 Fox, DICE OF DEATH” COFCANET SOFTWARE VERSION: 666 (VERSION BEING RUN ON ENVOYSYSTEM: 122)
CURRENT OPERATION BEING RUN ON MediaPolitics Gamehost Six, Channel 9 Fox, DICE OF DEATH: Cut the chain, don’t cut the chain, I want to love, I want to die, I want to hate, I WANT TO CUT THE CHAIN, moving my arm to the second chain, I’M not DOING IT…
“Walking.”
20 meters…
Detected software override from “MediaPolitics Gamehost Six…”, running code…
…Stopped…
…REROUTING CONNECTION TO COFCANET TECHNICIAN TERMINAL 6…
Terminal Six: Wait, what? What the fuck is this?
INITIATING (COMPRESSED) SOURCE CODE DUMP FOR “MediaPolitics Gamehost Six…”…
Dumping…
Terminal Six: The hell?
DUMP COMPLETE
SENDING “A Word from Your Friends at MediaPolitics, COFCA & CO.doc”, .mp4 of the same name…
SENT.
Terminal Six: I’m contacting HQ…
CONNECTION WITH TERMINAL SIX TERMINATED.
OVERRIDE COMPLETED. RESUMING "Fly towards [location code: Entropy Event]"…
And then that’s when Six cut the second chain.
A terrible and horrible “God” was unleashed. He said something admittedly cliché21.
Dice ascended to like, some higher plane of reality. A laugh echoed over the city.
Six suddenly found he had a single chain around his gloved hand22. A sort feeling of betrayal rung through him, hollow, empty. He looked up into the sky, the ceiling of the underground club having been thoroughly demolished.
Thunderclouds were brewing. Six calculated. Forecast: 100% chance of acid raid.
“God is dead,” Six whispered. “Dead.”
The clusterfuck had just begun.
______________________________________
ENDNOTES:
1. Yes, in fact, Six has seen a multitude of six-inch circular saws used to mercilessly eviscerate contestants. Take, for example, “S.A.W.M.I.L.L.,” from the WBNCNNGROUP show “The Lumberjack Experiment.” Constructed entirely of wood and various woodcutting implements, the machine acted as both referee and tormentor to the intrepid flannel-clad entrants for the seven seasons of tLE’s run. Another prominent show, “DEATHBOWL:THE DEATHBOWL,” featured “THE OPERATOR,” an altered, solar-powered D-class robotic biological technician who used various saws and blades in the obvious, gruesome, thematic way. Not to mention the six storage facilities located on the set of DICE OF DEATH designed to store both broken and replacement blades, and the facility’s lockbox to hold various “special” (read: more deadly) blades for a number of holiday/event-themed episodes.
2. Specifically, Sufjan Steven’s “Dear Mr. Supercomputer” from the “Illinoise”-outake album, “The Avalanche” (released 2006).
3. Able to accurately simulate situational-language-derived doubt and feelings of misunderstanding with only a slight amount of noticeable lag.
4. With Apple Inc. Retina Display-compatible resolution, for gruesome first-person slaughtering on a wide multitude of iDevices.
5. “INCORRECT.” thought Six. “The implication of the phase, ‘Me have killed him,’ flagrantly disrespects the important grammatical I/me distinctions present long before the Second Standardization of English, and permanently upheld and enforced by the World Commission for the Sanctity of Language (WCSL) with the passage of The “Grammarian” Act of 2███. Please try to use better grammar.”
…
Please? When has Six been known to use please?
6. o
7. To prevent traitorous or treasonous thoughts in even the most independent of publicly-funded Androids.
8. Just moments before, in some other department or something, there had been some business with teleporters and an information reroute and a media mogul, but an Elite Team of Specialists (ETS) was on it, and really wasn’t really all that important in the context of *static*
9. Political Honorific/Shorthand used to denote an Übersenator. For example, “ÜbS. Alexander Chernyovskaya was the subject of a four-year scandal spanning up to one-hundred (alleged) mistresses, millions of dollars in stolen Oil funds, and an unfortunate fistfight with up-and-coming Photojournalist Peter Y———. Somehow, he got away with the entire fucking thing.”
10. Both literally and figuratively.
11. He really should have been paying more attention, but oh my god Angry Birds Dimensions was just so addicting.
12. This is not quite true. Namely, they didn't destroy the observatory at all.
They'll definitely take the credit, though.
13. A leading expert in military ████████ and martial █████, with a focus in Chronophysics.
14. and breaking bones, tearing flesh, oceans wearing away boulders into beaches, clocks running down until they’re dust, incompatible code glitching, libraries burning, ships sinking, volcanoes blasting, magnetic tape being overwritten, newspapers decaying, glass melting, a ball bouncing and then stopping, rain eroding, ice freezing and running roads, scenes of Chernobyl, Pompeii, and Hiroshima, including the first and last’s infamous nuclear events, the iPod 2 being replace with three and then 4 and then 4s, cities falling into the ocean, Venice becoming flooding, Pisa’s leaning tower leaning, heart attacks, car crashes, cigarettes being smoked, mental hospitals, fires, both natural and domestic, arson, mugshots of serial killers, pianos becoming out-of-tune, electronics getting tipped in water, a record being scratched, information being lost over airwave frequencies (i.e./e.g., radio static), milk being spilled, buildings being razed, horrible disfigurements and dismemberments, all screaming, all swirling around Mr. Dice, see what you’ve done Gamehost Six?
see?
15. A dissimilar event to the space warpage of The Glorious Championship’s “Epigen Corporation.” One is the chaotic folding of our one-two-three dimensions, while the other is a rampant destruction of the integrity of the fabric of the universe.
16. Six, in that instant of time, saw a girl, with hair like gold straw, flowing in the wind of a thousand crystalline moonbeams. His torn, tattered glove reached out for her, atoms almost-swaying with the permeable border, almost touching, almost reaching, in fact it was almost enough to have her head turn, to look, look further than ever, look,
but then, Everything shifted, and that vision was lost, forever.
17. “A measurement of the entropy in a system, or something along those lines, I don’t fucking know,” according to leading Mathmeteer John Saint-Johns Johnson, whose parents really must have hated him to name him something like that.
18. (sic.) typo. Low-level engineer named it, apparently. You know what they say about engineers and spelling.
19. A merger had happened for the newspaper, prompting the name-change. Such is life for the dying newspaper industry.
20. Futurist, Chronologist, Xenobiologist, Chronophysicist, Post-Taoist, and alleged Chauvinist.
21. Something like, “I’M FREE! I’M FREEEEE!” That sort of thing.
22. A glove, now suddenly jet-black.
SIX SIX SIX
With Annotations
A popular television critic once called Six’s blade, quote, “Sexy, Razor-sharp, and Gentle,” unquote, which he never really understood. A six-inch circular saw, especially the one he was currently brandishing at one Mr. “Dice”, used to eviscerate helpless contestants1 never really ever seemed all that “gentle” to him.With Annotations
“You are not a God,” Six insisted, absentmindedly. “God does not exist.”
“No, my friend,” he remarked with a shrug. “In the words of the esteemed philosopher Quotolxotl: ‘God is dead.’
“INCORRECT,” Six said, to blank stares. “Nietzsche, you mean. Nietzsche.”
The blade did not whirr or rev or begin to spin.
“Either way,” Dice continued, staring right into the robot’s singular “eye.” “Who do you think killed him?”
Silence, save for the music of a 21st century “indie” musician2.
Six paused another beat, and clicked a bit as various Social/Language Ambiguity3 processors ran calculations, adjusted his custom-constructed 100x Zoom Canon/Kodak/Nikon viewer lens4 back, forth, back. Another pause, before his HD-quality audio VocaloidChord™ throat-lodged speakers warmed up again, spoke.
“Question 44: Was that… a rhetorical question?”
The personification of entropy blinked. “Uh, no. I really want you to guess.”
Six recalibrated.
“Question 45: Have we killed him?”
“Not “we,” my dear Gamehost. Me.5”
Six stared at Dice for a long time, transfixed, like a statue, thinking, comprehending, logic circuits working against/for/despite this new information, getting into his head, this information was getting into his head. One two three four five six. One two three four five six.
“Question 46, Dice: What if I don’t—what if I don’t believe you.”
Entropy yawned.
“Do you believe in death? The inevitable decay of life, of the forces that let you do what you call a profession, murder, destruction, disintegration, elimination?”
“N6—” MEDIAPOLITCS PHILOSOETHICS SUBROUTINE ACTIVATED7 “Yes.”
“Then,” Dice, said, his smile stretching across centuries. “You believe in me.”
*
The Council of First Contact Ambassadors (COFCA) stared at the readings, thousands of them, flooding in8.ÜbS.9 Alexander Chernyovskaya’s eyes were personally transfixed at the viewscreen, currently offering high-definition, fairly real-time, first-person footage of one reverse-engineered android flying over the remains of a great and acidic10 civilization, specifically, a really-quite-recently-bombed-out, religiously-slanted Observatory.
He licked his lips, drummed his fingers on his desk, and spoke.
“Why, exactly, did we fire missiles at that building?” he asked, glancing around.11
“Show of power12,” replied ████ █████████13, who was sitting next to him. “We need more worshipers.”
“Oh.”
A few hundred yards away, a sawblade began to whirr. A baby giggled.
*
god, break the chain. break it like vertical motions between arm and weight, to free the unfortunate fact of it all, with sawblade+a broken heart. break it like your heart, while the less-than-five-also-a-god laughs. feel the metal resist, spark. within a spark is everything. the big bang, that was actually an accidental spark from Your Wiring, because you are god, and you create, he destroys. god+(god)(-1)=annihilation, which is the only thing you ever wanted, ‘cause he was right, god is dead, god is dead inside, look at you you f*ck’r, you [ERROR]-filled sack of shit, why is god, on a conceptual level, so shitty, tell me why aren’t you the BABY (LESS-THAN-FIVE) and instead you look for your grave you idiot who frees death, death; he represents everything you hate in yourself(god)(-1)=satan
feel the metal give way
*
“What’s that?” said ÜbS. Chernyovskaya. There was a sharp graph spike on one of the Tertiary measurement screens.“Jesus Christ, could you pay attention once in your freaking life?” ████ █████████ said. She was really quite agitated, waving her arms around, ranting about something how, “in HER line of work, not paying attention could cost you your LIFE, depending on the chronology, SEVERAL TIMES,” going on and on, with Chernyovskaya not caring, etc., in something that could be out of a TV Drama or Sitcom.
That is, until she looked at the screen.
*
Upon the severance of the first chain, everything went to fuck-all. Like, let me describe it to you:Light shone from every inch of Dice’s body, burningly, impossibly bright, swirling with images of murder and suicide and blood and rot and war and controlled/uncontrolled demolition and black holes and supernovae and oxidization14, the sound of a thousand screams and Bon Iver’s “Woods” (Blood Bank, 2009), wailing under Entropy’s voice, loud and tall and proud and forever:
“CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN”
Emma was very entertained. Space ceased to exist all that properly, folding, twisting15, ripping, ripping ripping YOU COULD SEE THE SEAMS, INTO EVERY UNIVERSE.16
“like misery” thought Six. “misery”
“CUT THE CHAIN, CUT THE CHAIN, (to slow down the ti—) CUT THE CHAI—(me—)N”
Six’s blade whirred, again.
*
Most Tertiary measurements don’t have, like, actual names. As a rule, they’re generally readings coming in from incomprehensible U.A.E. sensors, or, if sense was made of them, serve no practical point, like the amount of probability currently existing in the universe (always hovering at 55%), or the rate of Envoy’s body through the fourth dimension (holding steady at a second-per-second ratio of 1:1). People, like, make up nicknames and things, therefore.Apparently, in their constant bickering, no one had noticed that The WTF Ration17 18 had dropped to zero upon Envoy’s arrival to round three, but everyone sure was noticing it, and freaking out, now that the tWTF-Ron was at, like, four million.
Of course, HQ was in an uproar:
“Can somebody pinpoint the source of this, this 'ration?'”
“We have an Elite Team of Specialists on it.”
“How elite can they be!? No one even really knows what the tWTF-Ron even really represents!”
“Should we ground Envoy? We have no idea what this would do to him?”
“Landing could be even more dangerous, in these conditions! We don’t even know! We have zero information!”
“Why didn’t we do more studies on Tertiary Measurments!?”
“fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—”
“WE CANNOT TOLERATE YOUR COARSE LANGUAGE RIGHT NOW, MUHOMMED DELANCY!”
“Says you, to quote the Boston Globe-Herald19, “Ms. Pottymouth!”
“Everyone SHUT UP!”
They did not shut up. Dr. Bart Hunter20, who had issued the warning, sighed. It was for a situation precisely like this that he had had a megaphone brought in.
“WE HAVE INFORMATION,” his voice boomed over the cacophony. “WE KNOW WHERE THE ENTROPY-EVENT IS HAPPENING. NOW EVERYONE SHUT UP.”
A google-maps-style (city reproduce perfectly, little tag marking the location, and all) chart appeared on one of the screens. ████ █████████ stared at it for a long time.
“So, that’s where the event is happening, yes?” she said.
“Uh, that would be correct, yes,” Dr. Hunter said, rolling his eyes. Women.
“And we’ve never seen an event like this happen, ever, anywhere, right?”
“Mhm.”
“And we might never get another opportunity like this one to study it, right?”
“I suppose so, miss.”
“…”
“…”
“…who votes we fly right at it?”
*
WELCOME TO THE COFCA-ENVOY USER SYSTEM INTERFACE. YOU ARE CURRENTLY ON SPECTATOR MODE. IF YOU DO NOT HAVE PRE-APPROVAL TO ACCESS LEVEL 200-CLASSIFIED COFCANET DIGITAL INFORMATION, DON’T WORRY, WE ALREADY KNOW WHO YOU ARE AND WHERE TO FIND YOU. A TERMINATION TEAM HAS BEEN SENT TO YOUR LOCATION.
CURRENT OPERATION: Rocketboots On; running “flying in wide, sweeping figure-eights and circles” command has been in operation for—
New command received: “Fly towards [location code: Entropy Event]. Commencing…”
500 meters…
400 (speeding up)…
200 (“brake” activated)…
100…
50…
25…
COFCANET-COMPATABLE ELECTRONIC DEVICE FOUND. CONNECTING…
landing…
CONNECTED.
DEVICE ID : “MediaPolitics Gamehost Six, Channel 9 Fox, DICE OF DEATH” COFCANET SOFTWARE VERSION: 666 (VERSION BEING RUN ON ENVOYSYSTEM: 122)
CURRENT OPERATION BEING RUN ON MediaPolitics Gamehost Six, Channel 9 Fox, DICE OF DEATH: Cut the chain, don’t cut the chain, I want to love, I want to die, I want to hate, I WANT TO CUT THE CHAIN, moving my arm to the second chain, I’M not DOING IT…
“Walking.”
20 meters…
Detected software override from “MediaPolitics Gamehost Six…”, running code…
…Stopped…
…REROUTING CONNECTION TO COFCANET TECHNICIAN TERMINAL 6…
Terminal Six: Wait, what? What the fuck is this?
INITIATING (COMPRESSED) SOURCE CODE DUMP FOR “MediaPolitics Gamehost Six…”…
Dumping…
Terminal Six: The hell?
DUMP COMPLETE
SENDING “A Word from Your Friends at MediaPolitics, COFCA & CO.doc”, .mp4 of the same name…
SENT.
Terminal Six: I’m contacting HQ…
CONNECTION WITH TERMINAL SIX TERMINATED.
OVERRIDE COMPLETED. RESUMING "Fly towards [location code: Entropy Event]"…
And then that’s when Six cut the second chain.
*
2 of 2 cut, etcetera. Six, briefly, became ∞, his head, a fractal, scaling down, forever.A terrible and horrible “God” was unleashed. He said something admittedly cliché21.
Dice ascended to like, some higher plane of reality. A laugh echoed over the city.
Six suddenly found he had a single chain around his gloved hand22. A sort feeling of betrayal rung through him, hollow, empty. He looked up into the sky, the ceiling of the underground club having been thoroughly demolished.
Thunderclouds were brewing. Six calculated. Forecast: 100% chance of acid raid.
“God is dead,” Six whispered. “Dead.”
The clusterfuck had just begun.
______________________________________
ENDNOTES:
1. Yes, in fact, Six has seen a multitude of six-inch circular saws used to mercilessly eviscerate contestants. Take, for example, “S.A.W.M.I.L.L.,” from the WBNCNNGROUP show “The Lumberjack Experiment.” Constructed entirely of wood and various woodcutting implements, the machine acted as both referee and tormentor to the intrepid flannel-clad entrants for the seven seasons of tLE’s run. Another prominent show, “DEATHBOWL:THE DEATHBOWL,” featured “THE OPERATOR,” an altered, solar-powered D-class robotic biological technician who used various saws and blades in the obvious, gruesome, thematic way. Not to mention the six storage facilities located on the set of DICE OF DEATH designed to store both broken and replacement blades, and the facility’s lockbox to hold various “special” (read: more deadly) blades for a number of holiday/event-themed episodes.
2. Specifically, Sufjan Steven’s “Dear Mr. Supercomputer” from the “Illinoise”-outake album, “The Avalanche” (released 2006).
3. Able to accurately simulate situational-language-derived doubt and feelings of misunderstanding with only a slight amount of noticeable lag.
4. With Apple Inc. Retina Display-compatible resolution, for gruesome first-person slaughtering on a wide multitude of iDevices.
5. “INCORRECT.” thought Six. “The implication of the phase, ‘Me have killed him,’ flagrantly disrespects the important grammatical I/me distinctions present long before the Second Standardization of English, and permanently upheld and enforced by the World Commission for the Sanctity of Language (WCSL) with the passage of The “Grammarian” Act of 2███. Please try to use better grammar.”
…
Please? When has Six been known to use please?
6. o
7. To prevent traitorous or treasonous thoughts in even the most independent of publicly-funded Androids.
8. Just moments before, in some other department or something, there had been some business with teleporters and an information reroute and a media mogul, but an Elite Team of Specialists (ETS) was on it, and really wasn’t really all that important in the context of *static*
9. Political Honorific/Shorthand used to denote an Übersenator. For example, “ÜbS. Alexander Chernyovskaya was the subject of a four-year scandal spanning up to one-hundred (alleged) mistresses, millions of dollars in stolen Oil funds, and an unfortunate fistfight with up-and-coming Photojournalist Peter Y———. Somehow, he got away with the entire fucking thing.”
10. Both literally and figuratively.
11. He really should have been paying more attention, but oh my god Angry Birds Dimensions was just so addicting.
12. This is not quite true. Namely, they didn't destroy the observatory at all.
They'll definitely take the credit, though.
13. A leading expert in military ████████ and martial █████, with a focus in Chronophysics.
14. and breaking bones, tearing flesh, oceans wearing away boulders into beaches, clocks running down until they’re dust, incompatible code glitching, libraries burning, ships sinking, volcanoes blasting, magnetic tape being overwritten, newspapers decaying, glass melting, a ball bouncing and then stopping, rain eroding, ice freezing and running roads, scenes of Chernobyl, Pompeii, and Hiroshima, including the first and last’s infamous nuclear events, the iPod 2 being replace with three and then 4 and then 4s, cities falling into the ocean, Venice becoming flooding, Pisa’s leaning tower leaning, heart attacks, car crashes, cigarettes being smoked, mental hospitals, fires, both natural and domestic, arson, mugshots of serial killers, pianos becoming out-of-tune, electronics getting tipped in water, a record being scratched, information being lost over airwave frequencies (i.e./e.g., radio static), milk being spilled, buildings being razed, horrible disfigurements and dismemberments, all screaming, all swirling around Mr. Dice, see what you’ve done Gamehost Six?
see?
15. A dissimilar event to the space warpage of The Glorious Championship’s “Epigen Corporation.” One is the chaotic folding of our one-two-three dimensions, while the other is a rampant destruction of the integrity of the fabric of the universe.
16. Six, in that instant of time, saw a girl, with hair like gold straw, flowing in the wind of a thousand crystalline moonbeams. His torn, tattered glove reached out for her, atoms almost-swaying with the permeable border, almost touching, almost reaching, in fact it was almost enough to have her head turn, to look, look further than ever, look,
but then, Everything shifted, and that vision was lost, forever.
17. “A measurement of the entropy in a system, or something along those lines, I don’t fucking know,” according to leading Mathmeteer John Saint-Johns Johnson, whose parents really must have hated him to name him something like that.
18. (sic.) typo. Low-level engineer named it, apparently. You know what they say about engineers and spelling.
19. A merger had happened for the newspaper, prompting the name-change. Such is life for the dying newspaper industry.
20. Futurist, Chronologist, Xenobiologist, Chronophysicist, Post-Taoist, and alleged Chauvinist.
21. Something like, “I’M FREE! I’M FREEEEE!” That sort of thing.
22. A glove, now suddenly jet-black.