October 4th, 2005



Hiving the stress off to a self-cointained memetic trap seems to have worked, though I can't be entirely sure yet. Here's hoping.

The stuff I took to calm me down and help me sleep did one of the two. I didn't sleep any earlier than I normally do, but the waking dreams that occurred in the meantime were certainly interesting. And I was a lot calmer for it.

Music on. Cigarette lit. Food consumed. The bottle of Hobgoblin that I'd been saving for emergencies open in front of me. Beginning to get back into the swing of things. Time to work.

Unrelated to anything, a teaser of what I want to do with nMage:

Atlantis. Fucking Atlantis. The First City, the Shining Age when men wrested power from the Gods in the monumental act of hubris. It's bullshit. A fractured memory of some dickhead's fever dream. Atlantis never existed, and don't you go listening to the morons who tell you otherwise. The First City wasn't a miracle, it was a nightmare. Their warrior-sages ate the hearts of bloody-handed gods, and their mystics called up things from beyond the borders of time and space. They fucked the world good, and magi these days go on about it being some damn Golden Age. Ignore them. Atlantis is dangerous, see. It's more than a city, it's an idea — an artificial limit enforced by the people back then so that they would live past the deserved deaths of their meat-shells.

Hah! How dangerous? They've got to you, I can tell. The Watchtowers existed before Atlantis. They're not conduits for some "supernal" power leaking into the world, they're archetypal facets of creation itself. And the fools addicted to the contagious ideas of the past have got something else wrong, too. There's not five Watchtowers — there's ten.

You want to know more? You want to know the real truth? Well, buy this old bastard an ale or four and I'll consider it. I'll tell you things about the world that you never knew, secrets that those daft buggers keep even from themselves in walled-off rooms of their memory-castles. And I might just tell you some truth. They've bought into the truth of a psychomemetic teaching aid, and I'll have to break you out of that. Maybe, just maybe, you'll have what it takes. But first you've got to get the bloody beers in, son.
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