Welcome to my worlds. 

Please forgive me for the cliché.
But… I am going to stroke my ego with the story of "THE AUTHOR".

... as described by the universe of De Planetae.

Once upon a time, there was a man.
He was unremarkable in almost every way, possibly cleverer than most but so what.
One day, he started to scribble.
He didn’t know it yet, but he had gone mad.
Madness always starts small, you know.
There was a reason for it, of course, but nothing within his ability to control.
The scribbles were small at first. A little bit here, a little bit there.
Their numbers slowly growing more numerous, until he had to carry a notepad all the time in case he had to scribble.
Then he would spend hours, and then he would spend days.
Some days he forgot to eat, he couldn’t do his job without spending half his time scribbling.
A year went by, and it could no longer be considered scribbling, it was something far worse.
He was writing.
All the bits and pieces of scribble, when taken as a whole, began to form a mosaic of sorts.
Ideas and places and concepts and characters all emerged from the massive pile of growing papers.
They grew complicated, interwoven, and cohesive.
They cut off his power and water but he couldn’t stop writing.
They came to evict him but found that the door was blocked by piles of paper.
They took him away to a quiet place, but he screams of agony were too much if they took away his paper and pencils.
And then, one day an idea struck him
Based on that idea, he wrote these certain words…
… and everything changed.
Ok, yes, I am he.


Now, bear with me and let me finish while I talk this out.
It is generally assumed by most Interweave travelers (particularly the Muses of Deep Red) that a writer like myself is much like unto a god. Which is to say that every time writers create a new story, they invariably also create an entire universe. Each universe is created with their own past unique and potential future centered on the event prior to and following the original story. Their writing is then expressed as the manipulation of certain individuals within their universe construct in order to create what is known to everyone else as a “story”. Some say this is overly complicated, improbable, un-provable and based on a logical fallacy. Those same some counter-propose that these universes have always existed since the beginning of time and some small segment of the writers' population just happen to be psychically attuned to a specific individual for unexplained reasons and as such, they feel compelled to write what they are merely observing. No one can say for sure which the correct theory is. The general opinion as to which theory is right is fairly ambivalent. The writers themselves don’t know, nor do they care, they just want to write.
Be that as it may, in the case of the latter theory this could simply be just a chicken vs. egg type quirk of your standard Multiverse archetype. However, in the more interesting case of the former, all these constantly and spontaneously generated new realities would force the Nona-dimensional universe at large to find room for all of them as they would spring into existence and snake their way through the higher three dimensions of time, probability, and causality and….
No, no no…
Of such things are the principles of the Interweave constructed, but who cares about all that, that is just a foundation for reality. Stories are about people, not some theoretical multidimensional hyper-physics. Why am I writing this?
Let’s try again.
Consider your own life’s story, you might think it begins with your birth, but that story is just a parallel branch from somewhere in the middle of your parent’s life story and so on back to the beginning of time. Just as the story of your life will run on from all the people you have touched through your action, possibly including children, on till the end of time. So, if you think about it, real-life stories have no actual beginning and more importantly they never truly end, do they? Why would the stories in any book you have ever read be any different? By way of extension, consider how that collection of books containing the epic story of the Lord of the Rings ended with Frodo sailing away, but then what happened? Especially considering all the industrial age artifacts left behind by Saruman for inquisitive men and dwarves to examine. What about the 3 Ghosts from Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”? Were they just a ‘one and done’ act? Or, after seeing their success with Scrooge play out, would they then seek to try again and again for the next 170 years up to the present day. What effect would that have on their world? The endless contemporary retellings and retooling of the original tale would seem to suggest that this did indeed happen.

That would mean that…
But no, that is just a landscape for stories to happen in, isn’t it? I am doing it again. It is still only people that make stories relatable. They always start off with something simple and continue in a linear fashion from there. A series of events starting simply with a man waking up in a strange bed, perhaps, and then the pebble rolls downhill to start the avalanche to make the butterfly take flight and eventually cause a hurricane and so on and so on….
Well, if that is so, then why don’t I start right there?
Suppose a man is rudely awakened to discover himself in an unfamiliar world with no memory of how he got there. He is surprised to find that merely 24 hours before, he was the only survivor of a supposed airline terror attack (if crispy and half dead can be considered “survival”). As such, his currently unscathed state has understandably raised some eyebrows. The only clue to his identity is a page torn from some booklet with nothing but the words “This is the journal of William De Planatae” written on it in a spidery script which had been found in his mouth by his rescuers.
It seems an implausible beginning, now that I read it.
Have I now, by writing this last paragraph, created a whole entire universe?
Could it be?
If I say yes, that I truly believe this, I am I mad?
No… I can’t be.
The voices, they scream at me and tell me that I have indeed done this.
I have created an entirely new universe.
But a rational mind in a white coat says that such things are simple delusions.
I want to argue the point, but the medications that he has given me are pulling me down into a fitful state where I can not write, only see things unfolding in my mind.
My limbs have grown heavy, and now I must rest.
Sleep….
…and dream.
But for me, even dreams are no escape.
I see a man in an airplane. He is unremarkable, thinning brown hair on head, brown eyes, dressed in unremarkable grays and browns. He sits there with a small worn book in his lap, the dark brown leather of the cover is soft with age, the gold lettering is faded but still readable. He turns to his right and looks at the woman seated next to him. Unlike him, her hair is full and luxuriant with highlights of amber and crimson in the brown curls. Her cornflower blue eyes scan the pages of a highly illustrated graphic novel that she has been reading for the last half of an hour, but she feels his gaze on her and she looks up from the pages and smiles at him.
“We should go here,” she says to him and she holds the book up to him for emphasis.
“The Graphic Helix in mid-Violet? I think not, far too dangerous.”
“It can be much worse than this mainline has been,” she says as she closes the book and places it in her own lap to mirror, in a way, the small brown book in his own.
“Hundreds, if not thousands of active mediums,” he pointed out, “Any one of which could see us and begin writing about us, trapping us there for decades. It is rule number one, never go to a mainline where the medium is still alive and writing. Plus the locals would be very keen on…”
He pauses and looks down at his lap, and then he picks up the small brown book with the faded gold lettering, opening it to a random page and briefly reading what is there before closing it again and holding it in his hand.
“Apparently I an urgently needed in the lavatory,” He says to her with a smirk.
“Bending probabilities? Adjusting causality?”
“It didn’t say,” he said with a shrug, “ you know how it can be.”
“Well be careful,” she says. smiling at some private unspoken joke, “There might be turbulence. I would hate for you to bump your head and forget about me.”
He smiles, it is an old game that they have played for ages. He leans over and kisses her tenderly on the cheek, an echo of the thousands of kisses that had preceded it for more than a century. “I would sooner forget my book.”
“It would find you,” she says, completing their little parting ritual, “But I would find you first.”
But I know what is coming next, I have seen it a dozen times and I don’t want to see it again. I turn away from them as the man unbuckles his seatbelt, but the story still continues in its non-linear way. Am I writing it?  Or is it writing itself into me? Happily, that vision fades… only to be replaced by another
I see another man, in some dusty archive writing a note…about another note.
They say you can not read in dreams, but I can.
In my disembodied dream state, I peer over his shoulder and read….
…and the man’s note says…


…Much later, after the infamous event in the hills of western North Carolina, a notebook was found in the classified PVT archives in CSA Capitol of Atlanta with a note attached in his own hand dated some two years before the calamity.


So I look at the note that he wrote the note about.
It reads thusly:


-NAU year 125
I have been a fool.
Admittedly, if I have been told the facts outright, I would never have believed them. Nevertheless, I am still a fool.
The notebook was exactly where she said it would be. I have read it three times but I have failed to glean any more from it than I did at the first reading.
I have verified the facts, as much as possible, given the circumstances.
The last few nights went undocumented, of course, but I can fill in most of the blanks now from inference. After which, I am left with only one obvious conclusion.
It seems I have some work to do.
-PVT


Curious, I go back to the original note


The note and the contents of the notebook have been transcribed into the secret archives of the NAU for posterity, but it has been decided that the public must never know the details of this matter. Nor that their “savior” from the threat posed by the Hegemony had also gone mad and destroyed an entire city on some fools errand. Instead of being martyred by the Hegemony to keep him from his moment of triumph as the incident was recorded by the press.
In my opinion, even if they did learn of it, they would not believe a word of it.
Nevertheless, what follows are the transcripts of the mysterious notebook… EYES ONLY!!!


This man in the archive, of a stoic unsmiling face, white hair and patched eye, whom I feel might go by the name of Sloan, seals his letter and the PVT note into an envelope and lays it next to a small spiral notebook with a worn blue cover.
Could this be the very notebook of which they had both written?
I must know what it says.
With spectral hand I reach out and the cover becomes transparent to my dreaming eyes.
I read the words written there, scrawling and handwritten…
…and I am drawn deeper into the story once more.

 

The Unnamed Medium

     There are three types of genius in the world. A genius of the first order knows 2+2=4 because he has learned it. If it is written in a book, they read it, memorize it, and know it to be fact, even if it is wrong.

     A genius of the second order does not know 2+2=4 but they can figure it out. Sometimes their conclusions are flawed by virtue of a misunderstanding or a personal bias but their solutions are serviceable enough. They are the ones who usually write the books that the others read.

   I am of the rarer third order. A genius of the third order is the one that discovers that when you take two known concepts like basic arithmetic and rounding principles into account, 2+2 can also equal 5 given the right circumstances. We are the ones that come up with the new ideas that the second order geniuses eventually write about.

    Kisa is another matter.

    She is far from stupid, in her own way she is quite the genius herself, but not one of the other three kinds. I suppose she would be akin to a fourth order. I spoke to her about the idea once and she said that it doesn’t matter if 2+2 equals 4 or 5.  More precisely, she asked, “four or five what?” From her viewpoint the math was irrelevant. If it was rocks, then it was four or five too many. If it was chocolate, she would rather have six.

 

Professor  Von Teasa

Twilight…. 

Not a fan. 

However…. 

   If, on the last page, in the last paragraph, The “Vampire” guy snaps the neck of the girl, turns to his greatest rival and says, “There, see? You owe me a dollar.”

    And his rival just shrugs his shoulders and asks, “Best three of five?”

      I will become a devoted fan instantaneously.

 

The Unnamed Medium

My aneutronic boron fusion reactor startup.

Beginning with boron plasma (elementary) and using the existing CERN supercollider technology for the main plasma ring.

The plasma ring is charged with boron plasma.  Boron plasma being simply elemental boron that has it electron valence raised high enough to be stripped away leaving only the atomic nuclei. That boron plasma is injected up to the optimum density and then brought up to speed via the electromagnetic induction coil conduit.

Optimal Standard pressure parameters are to be defined by volume, density, temperature, via the physical limits of the containment structure.

Optimal Dynamic pressure then calculated as a function of velocity within that structure.

Once the ring is optimal, the highest speed particle streams are diverted into the magnetic focusing arc similar to the electromagnetic isotope separation process known as the Calutron. This performs two functions. It focuses the plasma into a dense focused stream and it also breaks out the eventual helium plasma from the mainstream into a second focus (due to atomic density) which is then removed and stored for later (to make plasma cell batteries primarily).

The densely focused stream is then sent through the Magnetic Restriction Apparatus.

The MRA is a collection of three synchronized strong rotating magnetic field generators alternating in a positive, neutral, negative, neutral cycle.

In the neutral stage 1, the dense stream’s flow is unrestricted.

In the negative, the stream is “fluffed” as the field opens wider to allow particles to shed velocity and build up in a sort of stream eddy.

In neutral stage two, the main stream is allowed to regain its velocity, allowing the slower particles to be left behind in the reaction chamber.

In the Positive stage stream’s flow is restricted to a near monomolecular aperture. All of the stream particles and all of the accumulated plasma “fluff” are compressed to create a moment of superheated boron plasma fusion.

This is followed by a return to neutral stage 1, which allows the stream to carry away the resultant helium plasma left over from the Boron fusion reaction and released heat energy from the boron fusion process back into the main circular stream.   This is similar to the previously posited reaction…  

p

+

11B

→

3

4He

+  8.7 MeV

 This will marginally accelerate the particles in the stream and allow the Induction coils to transition from charged acceleration to a discharged mode. The ionic particle stream will then be inducing electricity into those same induction coils, the magnetic drag of which will bring the speed of the stream down. This makes the discharged electromagnetic induction coil conduit a kind of harvesting/reaction control mechanism. Monitoring of The rotational speed of the MRA and the density of the focused stream will also act as control mechanisms. But there is also a third mechanism that will bring down the process and keep it from running amok.

After the reaction stage but before the induction coil collection, there will be a trickling stream of fresh boron plasma into the high energy post fusion stream to replace reagent in equal mass to that loss from helium extraction prior to fusion.

Balance factors are the dynamic speed of the relative streams, atomic density of the plasma, temperature, magnetic coils constriction and so forth.

Now, all I need is a doctoral degree and a ridiculously large grant to try it out.

Of course, The Professor already built one, so it must work, right?

Oh….fiction… right…sorry….

(stupid Mainliner…)

Emily Von Teasa