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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jun 17, 2021 10:16:13 GMT -5
Time is like a web, its many strands threading through the air of the world like blood through a vein. We sit at its centre, merrily weaving away, eagerly waiting for our prey to land into our grasp. And while it thrashes and struggles, and we ready ourselves to suck it dry, you may begin to wonder where this metaphor is heading. Backwards, probably, though I think we may be there already.
Or perhaps not quite yet.
This place is like a library. Time was, we would be inundated with work and books, struggling to cope with the weight of it all. Now, however, we simply stand vigil, occasionally dusting a few shelves, and changing the occasional burnt out bulb.
But we are not a library, and we have no books. Instead, what we have are possibilities. Every possible outcome, every possible desire, and every possible unknown. But now we have run out of time and fortune, and everything seems to be happening at once.
It's all about to end, so I think we should begin.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jun 19, 2021 11:09:03 GMT -5
XXX010XXX-GSMW-OtyasoueXX00C1D0M4Y.21M.06.D.19-C316.29.182228-XXX010XXX There is no beginning and there is no ending. At the start there was nothing, and when all is said and done there will be nothing as well. Its all the stuff in-between that counts. The trouble is there's an awful lot of it, and it is difficult to find your way through it without running into trouble. I am going to try my best to tell this tale to you, but I'm sure that I'm going to get in an awful muddle somewhere down the line. The trouble is the tale has no beginning, and no ending. It's mostly just an awful lot of in-between (and an awful lot of counts as well). Space is everywhere. It's all around us, right now, and I don't just mean that empty air in your bathroom closet. If you were to go outside in the middle of the night and look up the stars, what your mostly seeing is the space all around you. There's more space than there is anything else, almost as much as there is in-between. Space, believe it or not, is where our story starts (Or possibly ends). To bring you up to speed with how our story will work, you ought to understand that in the far future things have advanced to far greater capabilities than that of your own time. You watch what goes on around you but you never quite look out of the right windows. In the future a facility exists for one purpose - monitoring unexplained occurrences in time. The use of codes, (Bringing things to more of a relation to the required topic) has proved essential for much of work, but their main line of observation has lately been diverged towards something far more unsettling. A mysterious space/time event has not yet occurred, but is shortly about too, in the long distant past (But I think it may be our future, It depends when you're reading this). A man by the name of Colin Curtis discovered this one Thursday afternoon, around four o clock, just after dinner. He was unsure of the nature of the event, given that it may not have even happened, but it was enough to cause him great concern. He passed on the information to his superiors, and within the hour was prepping himself to head back in time for an extraction. Only then, something happened. Something changed. Time is a fickle thing, and like the shifting of a book on a shelf, or the addition of the letter B to a well known code, it does not take much to lead to something being lost. One moment, the event was being monitored, and the next it was forgotten about. Colin found himself dressed in his uniform, holding his compass in one hand, and his Chromatic Regulator in the other, when he suddenly realised he could no longer remember where he was going or why he was supposed to be going there. He went back and checked his notes, and found there was no evidence of any inconsistences in the time space continuum. Everything was as it should be. Colin put this down to nothing more than that odd-tasting sushi he'd hand for dinner, and thought nothing of it. The rest of his day preceded as normal. He signed off from work, took a quick hop back to his quarters, and whiled away the rest of his evening watching re-runs of 'The Ravalox Project' on his comcast. He went to sleep not knowing of the huge failure he had made that, little knowing of the dire consequences of his actions, and the terrible horrors that were come. I'm sorry to tell you this, but that is how the story goes. For the next day is when Mr. Snicket arrived.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Jun 24, 2021 5:47:24 GMT -5
I was already wondering if this story was on the right board, but I see it is. Have any recent series inspired you to write about it, Mister M?
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jun 24, 2021 16:22:26 GMT -5
I was inspired by a book, but to say which one would give away the nature of what is going to happen.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jun 24, 2021 16:38:45 GMT -5
XXX020XXX-GSMW-OtyasoueXX00C1D1M2Y.05M.08.D.12-C316.08.03-XXX020XXX If you are not somebody who enjoys sudden scene shifts in your literature, then I am afraid that this story will not be an enjoyable experience for you. Like a well organised play, our scenery will constantly be shifting, the lighting adjusted, and the cast replaced when the actors become either too famous or too dead to perform. Our story now shifts to an ordinary city street in the country of England on that small backwater of a planet called Earth. The year is 2005, in the month of October, and a small child is pulling impatiently on his mothers arm as he is being dragged toward a bookshop. (I do not yet know the child's name, nor do I think it particularly matters, but it may come to me at some point if it becomes important) And now the scene shifts, and we are inside the bookshop. The boy runs excitedly to the shelf, and pulls out the book that he has so desired. If you are a member of the forum on which this story is being posted then you gwill either be surprised or non-plussed to learn that the book was 'The Penultimate Peril' by the latterly mentioned Mr. Snicket. The boy opened the book feverishly, and with much excitement began to read the opening salvos of its prose. 'Y'know I really wouldn't bother if I were you' said a man, sat in the corner. 'Huh?' said the boy 'I wouldn't bother.' the man sighed, shut the copy of The Death of Grass he had been looking at, and rose from his chair. 'It's all just a bunch of hokum.' He walked over to the boy, and wrenched the copy out of his hands, the mans long dirty fingernails scraping against his skin. 'Well....I like it' said the boy. 'Pfft' he grunted, and he walked out of the shop, Snicket in hand, without even paying. Count Olaf had left the building. And somewhere out in deep space, the timelines shivered.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jun 30, 2021 8:39:56 GMT -5
XXX030XXX-GSMW-OtydarkavenueXX00C1D2M3Y.21M.06.D.30-C316.08.01//15:38//-XXX030XXX
Life is like an onion - it's hard, and it makes you cry. A well respected author once wrote about how stories are like onions, with each chapter revealing a new papery layer of tearful misery. That may be true, but the analogy that I want to draw attention to is somewhat different. You might think that you know all there is to know about life, but what you know is simply a single layer of the truth. There are thousands of layers either side of you. and though they exist snugly around each other, you cannot be aware of each layer as you continue to go round and round in the circle of your own. As it stands, this isn't too much of a problem. Each of the layers of life can happily continue side by side, none the wiser of the existence of one another. But just imagine for a second that an onion was not contained of easily definable layers, but just became one single intermingled mess. Think how many tears you would shed trying to pull that thing apart. As it stands, we're now moving from one layer to another. I'm not sure if we're moving in or out of the onion, or if it really matters at all. I'm not even sure if the onion exists or if it's just a metaphor. Who cares? Anyway, one thursday afternoon Mister M came home from work, tired and depleted, and began to do the only thing he could. He opened up his laptop in the feeble attempt of assembling another story together. Yeah, I know. What's the point anyway, nothing can be as good as Black Ink was. Ah well, god loves a trier. Nonetheless, he felt the overwhelming need to write. The various and numerous threads of the story were knitting themselves together in his head, and he'd either end up with a masterpiece or a scarf... perhaps a jumper. But to M's astonishment, he didn't need to write the chapter at all. It had already been written. It was sat there, on his laptop, fully formed. As if someone had taken the words out of his head, and put them on the page. In fact, he's reading them right now, for the first time. I didn't write this at all, I promise. It just came from nowhere. He had created it from nothing, those first few chapters, pure imagination. Or perhaps not. Perhaps they were real events, simply dictated into the mind of another. But it didn't make sense, thought M (or will think, at the time this was written (or had thought, afterwards)). First we saw Colin Curtis in the future, and left him with Mr. Snicket arriving. Then we saw some nameless child with Olaf in a bookshop - what does this have to do with anything? What's going on?? Am I even real?? An onion is like life - it's hard to understand, and it makes you cry as it unravels.
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Post by Hermes on Jul 1, 2021 15:51:08 GMT -5
Well, Mister M. since you did not write this, it is hard to assess it or to say anything helpful about it. I will say, though, that the third episode suggests you, or whoever the real author is, has adopted a theory which will annoy both me and Jean Lucio. But in the world we seem to be confronting, I guess this theory might be both true and not true.
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jul 24, 2021 10:34:28 GMT -5
XXX040XXX-GSMW-OtyasoueXX00C1D0M3Y.21M.06.D.19-C316.29.182228-XXX040XXX The arrival of an unexpected guest, like the arrival of an unexpected letter or an unexpected swarm of angry bees, can often leave you surprised, stung, and generally confused. I'm sad to say that the sudden arrival of Mr. Snicket at the facility had much the same affect on Colin Curtis. The Facility is (or perhaps was) an extravagantly complex ship, hanging at the very edge of space, and also at the very edge of time. The ship was infinitely large, so large that nobody could be quite be sure of its layout or structure. Colin Curtis was just a fickle monitor, and he had no business pondering over these things - they were best left to the Architects. So when Mr. Snicket arrived, somewhere or other in the vastness of The Facility, Colin had nothing to do with it. He carried on his day as normal, completely unaware of the events that were unfolding. Mr. Snicket arrived in very much the manner you might imagine a fictional character appearing in the real world - awkwardly, and with a lot of noise. But it had been no mere accident, and he had managed to arrival precisely where he had intended to. There was an awful lot of fuss, and he was quickly apprehended and taken in for processing as yet another unexplained temporal disturbance. It was only when his identity and timestamp were checked that it was noticed. Colin was called up one of his superiors, and asked about an inconsistency that he may (or may not have) witnessed during the preceding day. He could not recall seeing any such anomaly, though he did recall that he had been monitoring the particular period of time and space from with which this alleged visitor had hailed. And so it was that Colin Curtis found himself sat opposite the fictional Mr. Snicket, asking him questions. 'Hello, Mr....ahh, Snicket, was it?' 'Hello Colin' said Mr. Snicket. 'It's nice to meet you properly.' Colin raised a curious eyebrow. 'Interesting. I was wondering if you could help me, Mr. Snicket' 'Actually, I was wondering if you could help me.' Mr Snicket reached into the pocket of his suit, and took out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Colin. Colin unfolded it, and read: GSMW-OtyasoueXX00C1D1M3Y.84M.03.D.27-C316.08.34 'These are interdimensional co-ordinates.' said Colin 'What are you doing with these?' 'I need you to do something for me Colin. I need you to steal a Transporter, and I need you to break into the databanks of the Supreme Architect, and then I need you to take me to these exact co-ordinates. And if you don't, well, then things are only going to get worse. Not just for that dimension, but every single one in existence.' 'And why? Give me one good reason why I should do any of these things?' 'Because if you do, then I can take you to the Quantum Possibility Engine.'
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Post by counto on Jul 25, 2021 4:58:13 GMT -5
Interesting, so fictional characters from ASOUE are coming into the real world?
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Post by Marlowe on Jul 30, 2021 14:28:38 GMT -5
I was inspired by a book, but to say which one would give away the nature of what is going to happen. Can I make a guess? The author of this book, does their name happen to rhyme with "Bat Plague"?
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Jul 30, 2021 15:03:30 GMT -5
I know what you're thinking of, and no, not conciously.
In fact....I'm now struggling to remember what book I was even inspired by initally!
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Post by Isadora Is a Door on Aug 7, 2021 14:31:56 GMT -5
Im now expecting to not update this again until after my wedding. I do have a ridiculous amount of story for this planned, however.
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Aug 8, 2021 5:24:30 GMT -5
I would really love to be able to witness your wedding. May God bless Mr and Mrs Anka.
About the story, I'm really interested right now. At first I had the impression that it was a disjointed mix of scenes without a logical justification. But I was sure, having seen Black Ink, that the author had control of everything in his hands, despite the fact that the lack of control in the narrative is the very theme of the story. This is getting very metalinguistic, and I still can't deduce the code from the coordinates. Although I suspect that they are linked to the universe where each scene takes place, the geographic coordinates such as longitude and latitude, the planet (or the location of the galaxy), and the hours according to the G meridian... and the date
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Post by Optimism is my Phil-osophy on Aug 8, 2021 5:49:04 GMT -5
XXX030XXX-GSMW-OtydarkavenueXX00C1D2M3Y.21M.06.D.30-C316.08.01//15:38//-XXX030XXX Otydarkavenue - Indicates that we are in the Dark Avenue universe. (Which is not necessarily the real universe. But it is the universe in which the 667 chronicles take place. This means that Mister M is not an avatar of the man who is about to get married. Mister M is a real person in this Dark Avenue universe. In other words, Mister M is surprised that his computer already has the story ready. That's because the man who is about to get married in our universe wrote it, and he gave it to Mister M to post on the forum. Who would have thought that investing in this code would be helpful in understanding the story?) Y.21M.06.D.30 is the date of posting by Mister M. (June 30, 2021). XX00C1 - Indicates that we are in the first hundred years 2000. between 2000 and 2100. D2 - Indicates that we are in the second decade. Between 20's and 30's. M3 - ? C316.08.01 - Maybe the date some message arrived. XXX030XXX - Perhaps the century in which some message arrived.
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Post by counto on Sept 25, 2021 0:49:44 GMT -5
So much talk about multiverses and alternate realities, Snicket's world is basically becoming an MCU expanding universe
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