skonen_blades: (Default)
"Your weakness is actually your strength", said the shimmering cloud of dust in front of me. It gusted and whorled but managed to maintain an shape of sorts. It was a cloudless, calm day here so I don't know what wind it was reacting to.

It was late autumn. I'd just finished work at the petrol plant and was taking a shortcut home through the grove. I was looking forward to seeing Wendy and my little Charles. I'd bought meat from the butcher on the way home for dinner. That was when the cloud appeared to me.

It talked to me in what I thought was English but I wasn't sure if I was hearing air vibrations or actual thoughts. The sparkling patch of air in front of me warped. I could see through it but what I saw behind it didn't make any sense to me. The trees through the twinkling cloud appeared to be in a different season.

"You can only exist in linear time with no awareness of the future." said the cloud. "This should not be possible for intelligent life. As far as any being knows, you are unique."
I stood, perplexed. I seemed to lack the ability for panic or fear. It kept talking.
"We all see time from the outside. Christmas lights on a string, a flat circle, choose your metaphor. But we are outside of it. We see all that happened. We can zoom in an experience anything but we lack the ability to change anything. Every moment of time is fixed." it warbled to me.

"But you. You humans. You should exist on train tracks but you don't. Because you can't see the future, you can change it. You have a choice. You can manipulate outcomes. We are at a loss as to how that's possible. For the moment, you are celebrities across all of time and space." it sang.

"I just wanted to meet one of you." it said, and jangled sideways into infinity.

I stood alone in the grove. I wasn't sure what had just happened.

I hurried home to my family for dinner but I was now obsessed with the choices I made with every footstep home.

skonen_blades: (whysure)
Alice didn’t merely travel to wonderland. She escaped there.

Jumping through her own reflection to a land where anything was possible. Where manners mattered and every dream logic puzzle had a way of being solved.

When she came back, she awoke terrified that the dream was over. She was never the same. People thought that she’d been traumatized by where she’d been but in actual fact, she was traumatized by coming back here.

Take Dorothy, for instance.

She spent the rest of her life clicking her heels together when she thought no one was looking. She felt in her heart that Oz was home but her heels would never take her there. The shoes were magicked for the wearer’s place of physical birth, not matters of the heart. She died alone at an old age, smelling nothing but car exhaust and sweat seeping in through the windows. It was cruel that fate let her live that long.

I’ve heard that people who have near-death experiences are similarly affected but I’ve never credited that claim. I mean, if you’ve seen heaven, it’s really quite the simplest thing in the world to get there again. There are a number of ways to die that aren’t suicide if you’re creative.

But these other dreamworlds, that’s a different thing. You can search for centuries for the forgotten toy shop, the hidden doorway, the magical doll or moment in time when the cracks between reality open wide to let a person in for adventure.

It’s a gift and a curse.

skonen_blades: (dark)
There are beasts that lie at the center of probability webs called Jarrows. They are many-armed beings that straddle possibilities. They lure victims to them. They live off of quantum energy.

A Jarrow finds a prey, someone who has a capability for greatness and a willingness to change the world. They isolate several probable futures and pasts of that person and then go to work.

By plucking the threads of an octave of dimensions, they can vibrate objects out of one dimension and into the other.

This means that the person that the Jarrow is focusing on will maybe find a photo album on their bookshelf that they’ve never seen before. Inside the photo album will be pictures that the person doesn’t remember taking, perhaps hugging or kissing people that the person has never met.

The person will be very confused. This is how it will start. The person will start to question his or her grasp on reality or at the very least, his or her ability to remember things.

Reality is perception so after that one reality is softened up by this questioning, the Jarrow gets to work. That reality string becomes malleable. It becomes a thread with which the Jarrow can start to weave, knit or even tie knots.

The Jarrow can shake more bits and pieces into that reality, maybe even an entire person. These objects from other timelines are called Jarrowbait. They are bread crumbs for the victim to follow, a path to danger instead of safety.

The Jarrow can weave into the next reality over. Maybe the neighbouring reality thread is where because the person was five minutes late catching a bus and the person met and married a lovely significant other.

By weaving the person that has no knowledge of that reality into that reality, the fun really starts. The person doesn’t recognize the significant other. The significant other is horrified and worried. They go see doctors. The person is diagnosed, medicated, possibly even institutionalized.

Other realities are woven in as they are unmoored from the stream and become tangible playthings for the Jarrow.

The person becomes a person living eight lives simultaneously, whipping back and forth between the familiar and the strange until all belief in a knowable, linear life vanishes. The person is insane by any measurable means usable in a non-quantum state of being.

The person perhaps does horrible things. The person perhaps becomes a drooling patient. The person perhaps becomes a genius. The person perhaps does all this and more simultaneously before……

…...popping out of all of the eight realities altogether like an eyelash blown off of a cheek. The person floats, free of linear time, pregnant with the possibilities of eight possible lifetimes, warm with the ability to touch thousands if not millions of lives in some small way.

The person can see all of the paths available shining below him or her.

The person is eaten by the Jarrow.

The Jarrow moves an octave down in the multiverse and seeks more food.

skonen_blades: (cocky)
Newton left us a gift. Tesla wrapped it up and Hawking put a bow on top. It was the brilliance of Dr. Panaura that opened it for the whole human race.

Dr. Panaura had found a way to trap energy and shape it. Using accelerator kilns, she’d bind the light with the electricity. By using a series of ceramics and mirrors, she’d weave the energy into a tight overlapping grid. The waves would move in a pattern that generated their own power through recursive timestreams.

Physical relationships warp at higher velocities. Anything with appreciable mass cannot be accelerated to lightspeeds.

In effect, she’d make plates of invisible energy that borrowed energy from past versions of themselves. She knitted light into primitive jointed garments.

The armour tapped into the missing seventeen per cent of the universe. It was a marriage of Newtonian physics and the unified field fueled by funneled electricity.

It worked on a universal scale. It stole kinetic energy but weighed nothing. It was bulletproof in the same way that a planet was. Any force applied to was absorbed.

It could be worn as an invisible suit of armour that nothing could penetrate.

She was hailed as a saviour. Any industry that needed a hard surface benefited immediately. Architectural masterpieces blossomed. The military now had invincibility. Hard materials were possible with no natural matter being used.

The first kiln in room 10 of Berkeley University was referred to as Panaura’s Box.

A little later, Dr. Panaura found a way to record binary information into the peaks and valleys of the waves. Information that could be sent through time.

She set up a receiving station in her office. That receiving station was anchored at 3:45 PM, August 22nd, 2018.

As soon as she turned it on, the messages from her future self came pouring in.

Advice on theories, scores from sports games, inside knowledge on upcoming relationships and a thousand other subjects. Apparently, the future Dr. Panaura had no respect for causality.

Reality shattered.

Dr. Panaura became, in effect, a minor deity. She set up more message depots ten weeks apart and gave them addresses.

She answered questions. She’d forward questions back to the proper message depots and an earlier self would try to find out answers and forward them back to the future.

She employed people. Her earlier selves employed people.

Every message station became a corporation. Every ten days, she set another message depot up. She’d get to a deserted part of the world, set up a beacon, and turn it on. As soon as she turned it on, a building would materialize around it with an employee base that had always been there.

After August 22nd, 2018 at 3:45 PM, there were no more mysteries. Reality became as malleable as smoke in the air.

Every time reality changes, no one notices. It simply becomes the way it’s always been. There is a theory that we are shuffling through realities like an infinite deck of cards. We can’t tell. There is a theory that we’ve ended the universe or created the multiverse.

The only way to live here is to live here. I tried making some bets on upcoming games but they never pan out. Something changes, I guess, and the score changes, so that’s that. I don’t make a fortune and then lose a fortune; I just never had a fortune. If you see what I mean.

I have to accept that what is real right now is all I’ve ever known.

I wonder if one day, someone will send a message back and successfully set the wheels in motion to assasinate Dr. Panaura and put this world back into a place where her discovery never existed. I wonder if that’s even possible.

Not that I’d notice if it happened. This world would cease and I’d be in a world where her invention never existed. I’d never know the difference.



skonen_blades: (Default)

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