From: intraphase@gmail.com

Juzya Kydd activating the S.X. Signet forged transit rings attempts to land at the junction box in The Harland building. The gates inactivity has caused the crumbling lightmach system to label it as inactive. The delay is marked by a Natural Tone
lightmach-23 timestamp, in bright red script, two inches above each ring’s small onyx stone; as 11-07-1980. Fourteen months have elapsed outside The Octagon and seventy-two hours inside. The five man troop lands in the safe zone
between the three
golden bells. Each of the numbered diamond statues are now covered by thick square black tarpaulins all the way back to the farthest reaches of the amphitheater and stadium.
The dome is open at its circular edge, held aloft north, south, east and west
by the recharged Body Fortresses; that once rested on the monuments of the: Signet, Archer, Manta and Rover. At the base of croclodyte stairway the waters
of the eight
hundred foot wide Deepwater Lake are foaming and bubbling with white mist momentum expenditures. Mr. Eight is piloting the ATM central body examining the
old ten ring submerged gate for usability or salvage. The floating screen assembly above The Octagon
is displaying full black screens again with color code grids.
With ample magnetic lines available through the domes twenty foot gap AR20 flight forces are practicing assembling, exiting, performing practice missions and returning. Juzya Kydd walking unsteadily; struggling to speak, sits down on
the granite deck
waiting to sync with his ship the S.X. Manta, hovering above the floating screens and three circling auxiliary dynamos. Azrok, Danes, McBain and Daniels are unaffected by the differential but can see the amount of changes that have accrued to the dome
and The Old Chiefs battle readiness. Lucian spotting the returning party of scouts from outside orders all troops inside and the dome sealed to prevent Juzya Kydd from entering a three zero crystallization. Ten minutes of dome time
elapses and another
day of Natural time passes. Once resynched to his ships clock he enters the ship and The Core to heal.
Activity inside the dome slowing, Alex and Harris appear between the three bells. They entered the Harland Gate two months ago to retrieve Trevor and Pierce bringing Disk-1 with them for the contingency they might have to ransom back the troop of
advance scouts. They move quickly out of the safe zone freeing it for emergency
traffic. Harris panting, “Did everybody make it back?”
“We’re all good; but the time differential delayed us. We were only there
about ten minutes.” Trevor scratching his chin, blinking rapidly, looks at Doc, “What do you make of it Pierce?”
“Sorry to be cavalier, but it’s a live and learn perspective, we have to be more careful. The dome is ten minutes per day. That whole schema Vulchario owns runs at ten minutes per year.
If this is all about mechanical Essence-Presence ratios; then Ivan has four hundred times what the amount of computational juice is here.” Pierce and Trevor look at each other dumbstruck.
Trevor bearing his teeth, “It would make sense because he didn’t look too
worried.”
Frank moves in close, “Is Pierce aware of the five level package?” and steps backwards.
Artrex is on the other side of the granite deck watching Aloysius assemble an
airplane model. Trevor calls out to him and he approaches cautiously: not knowing the lay of the land between McBain and the other players. He touches two fingers to an
eyebrow rolling them away.
Aloysius having set his model safely aside, “He can transport men only. My self and Eight are the opposite. The Body Fortresses and ATM have no gender identity transport restriction.”
Aloysius is wondering if they are going right back at Vulchario to make an end run for Disk-2.
“I want to return to the private place with Harris and Daniels.” Trevor asks without details.
Artrex cups his fingers flicking inward rapidly at Pierce and Harris who approach him. He lifts Pierces hand waiting for McBain and Harris to tap in. Mac asks Harris, “You’ve got the item?”
Pierce tightens his grip on his attaché case. “We’re ready for serious business,” asserts Harris.
McBain pulls back, “We need Ted, Alex and Aloysius.” Artrex adjusts his footing so Danes and Mathias can step in. Harris softly to Aloysius, “Misty Hob.” The Navigator clicks out landing safely at his designated zone on the eastern edge of the
broad southern veranda. A full moon and lights inside the kitchen tell of Michelle’s presence. The others arrive five seconds later. Harris gives Disk-1 to McBain solemnly; Danes seeing the covered fountainhead for the first time.
“We may not fathom all its purposes; but we acknowledge it is powerful and it is dangerous.” Looking toward Mathias, Danes and Aloysius; Frank instructs; “If she is here cooking for us it is because within her private world; this mark, this
waypoint, this inevitability is as futile to resist as to oppose an earthquake with an argument. She’s here because she must be. Be gentleman.”
Artrex leads Trevor and Pierce along the garden path. A hundred-fifty feet from the house McBain recognizes the four pool birdbath. The Player goes to the
birdbath, his foot tapping a fast locking sequence on the trigger stones that releases a hiss.
Kicking it softly it slides off and away from the concealed repository. Climbing into the hidden cache he passes the vortex paradome disk locker safely
up to Trevor; quickly inventorying a dozen items McBain was too hurried to notice sixteen months of
natural time ago. Climbing out and locking up; he points to Pierce and then holds his hands like a book; pressing his face downward; as if reading: until his face and hands meet like a person falling asleep studying. He points further down the garden
path towards a shadowed gazebo barely visible in the pale moonlight. He puts one hand on each young man’s back pushing forcefully. McBain protests, “No you come to.” Artrex twirls his finger around the outside of the bowling ball
shaped locker
reminding Trevor how to open it. The Player repeats the face to book gesture stepping forward to push them again. Doc says perturbed, “We get it.”
Artrex walks a few steps towards the house turns and waves waiting for them to start moving.
Trevor is shuffling his feet wondering if Pierce and Artrex are going to get locked in a contest of wills. “He is a pushy son of a gun but he knows what he is doing.” Pierce takes his cue turning
toward the distant gazebo. McBain tries to fill Doc in on details but he is getting bogged down in recent events. “Do you realize we just lost a year of our lives? Do you understand how much a person can learn in a year? Do you comprehend how furious
Aurian and Lisa are going to be?”
“We all agreed to go. It was fate Vulchario was in the bowels of his distillery. You’re always thinking about what to say in advance; researching and preparing for conversations and I admire that Doc…” Trevor and Pierce reach the gazebo and Mac
sets the vault down so he can roll after removing two emergency cigarettes and lighting one for Doc. “You can put the best of barking gasbags back on their heels with well-oiled arguments; that’s your forte. But you can’t dispute there is a time to
gather information. Plus don’t be acting like we lost something, you know the
technical aspect, zero time passed. The kid Grigori warned Azrok and Juzya and they snoozed through the glitch. The little native Artrex runs the show for a reason. He stays
on mission Doc.”
Daniels is tapping a foot rubbing his forehead turning his cigarette into a roman candle from smoking to fast. “Well… It’s the same as I’ve said before, everybody pretends they got it all figured out; and they don’t know jack squat about
fiddley diddley. My only advantage in this game of nightmares is these bloody amber books, and I just lost a year’s worth of research time.”
Trevor starts laughing, “Man it was like two hours ago we were boosting Bitterman and for him it’s a year and something.” Mac hands Doc a couple of
smokes reloading his chrome train case.
Pierce’s hawkish eyes soften, “At least the kid not talking simplifies thing. The anomaly most easily noticed, was the referee style guy Juzya used as
a intersect target, was named Artrex too; as if they are both from the same ship or strata,
similar to Bitterman’s paper verification model.”
McBain stands up stretching, “Remember when we were on the homebound flight
from the Grand Canyon and Harris was talking about going all the way. Well it’s the same thing with the famous Amber Books; we defused the poisoned God question paradox.
This Disk-1 situation is no different. When we flipped a coin to see who had to
grab the final answer the quarter fell in the book and there was a slight flash. Maybe Mr. Flowers is spinning a yarn on how he came to own Disk-1.” McBain stares through a
break in the trees where the moon reflects on the water.
Daniels flicks his left hand trilling his fingers relieving the cramped stress of carrying the small leather attaché. “I get your drift Trevor.” Pierce takes both books out opening the top one. He closes it, “I think I would like a final smoke
in case it kills us. I’ve seen too much for one night.”
“OK. This container holds the end results of our trip out west and the phenomena we witnessed.
The data books you have, showed up before the event; but that may be natural to
all this river based type of time activity. One way or another it’s all connected.” McBain is struggling.
Pierce rakes his cigarette through a flower box on the outer rail of the gazebo.
“I’m copacetic with that. It appeared to move backwards as if the future came to the past: but really; it was just a bunch of nows with some sort of geometric connection. Maybe a form of parallax or retro causal, but still based
on a system we don�
�t grasp yet.” Doc points to the vault.
Trevor reluctantly, “Probably with this device to, they’re all connected to the same system.”
Pierce even toned and persuasively, “My point with Ivan is that he is light
years ahead of us in terms of practical and theoretical understanding of all this. When Artrex the referee type showed up it was a challenge to his absolute
authority. So he
used a pretext and maneuvers him into the place where any further intruders pay
the highest price to enter.” Pierce’s summary brings relief.
“He is a wily player I don’t underestimate him. He reminds me of a comic type villain though.”
Trevor puts both hands out as if he is about to fall, inhales and exhales deeply, placing the vault on his lap. He runs his finger in a circle around its
edge and it unscrews a three quarter turn. Docile benign genial pressure escapes with the golden
radiance. Trevor avoids eye contact with the stack of five hovering disks. Putting the lid aside, he picks up the black diamond handing it to Pierce. “Artrex wants you to stare at it like he and I have already done.” Trevor sees Pierce is biting his
upper lip while scrunching his nose repetitively, as nervous as a kitten that has caught his first mouse. Trevor gives Doc a warmhearted gentle backhand to the upper shoulder.
“Hello my name is Pierce, I am a student.” Trevor restrains a laugh by bending forward his right eye twitching. He starts rubbing his forehead. Taking
the old Disk-1 out of its triple sleeve
the light within the bowl intensifies. Pierce nods rapidly, nervously, “Go for it Trevor, it agrees.”
McBain holds the hand worn tarnished Disk-1 over the new collection delicately and it slides out of his hand volitionally to approach The Five. Trevor looks for the moon and it is gone.
“I am pretty sure we are inside it now Doc.” Trevor lights cigarettes handing one to Pierce.
Daniels is sitting backwards watching awestruck as the five disks set opens wide like a flower, the smallest disk the size of a dime remaining in the center; the other disks rising; leveling to it.
A cone of yellow gold light fills the space between the small Disk-5 and the hovering old disk.
Trevor sees Pierces gaze is locked on the updating disks, “Observe the sky to, it’s a courtesy.”
Whistling softly, “It’s the musical mystery of an ocean of information being transferred.”
“Yes I’ve noticed color blending is a serious language, to all of the powerful devices; the stuff it’s showing in the sky is inside the little funnel,” Trevor points north, “That parts complete.”
“So primary colors mark a part of the process as deep-rooted, reliable and stable: most likely.”
“From the epic chronicle story relayed by all my years of waking up in the dreams it seems so.”
Trevor watches the old Disk-1 move over the new Disk-2 as the funnel process starts again. Overhead there are calm lakes and rivers of primes forming; as unsettled storms of mixed pastels attempt to sequence their way into memory. Large swaths of sky
resemble billowing bed quilts.
“I think every disk contains every other disk unvaried: so it must be copied five times. Each one must have its own specialty. Each disk could recreate the others function, but probably not be able to create a new disk or five disk set. If we
multiply five disks by five functions per disk…”
Trevor enjoying Pierces disciplined calculation, “Twenty five sub-systems is a basic alphabet.”
Watching Disk-3 start to transcribe the old disk, the overhead display is pulsing white lines that absorb entire segments of finished colored squares. The empty spaces are soon filled and the process repeats faster and faster. A sky full of checkerboard
flashes gradually fades to a peaceful sky globe of unified white. Trevor looks to the vault as Disk-1 moves to the new Disk-4 and the golden cone begins funneling data. Above, the stars have reappeared, but not the moon.
Trevor draws Pierces attention skyward until he is squinting; turning slightly from side to side.
“There’s the Ursa Majoris and its Big Dipper. It’s positioned us right under the North Star.
It’s a map with arcs of one to five colors, this is different, and these must
be summary displays.” Daniels leans back: sharply practiced, at scribbling high speed shorthand, on folded index cards. “5Vs1 Primary – 2Vs1 Pastel Thatch – 3Vs1
Lines Grids – 4Vs1 Map Arcs – 1Vs1 =?”
The overhead display cycles through world sky maps and colored bridges ever more rapidly.

[continued in next message]

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)