"And what is that?" Tatterdemalion asked, her voice echoing in the chamber.
"It's the Metaplex, represented as a four-dimensional object. That's why it appears to change shape over time but still retain cohesion."
"It hurts my head, looking at it."
"It's even worse when you are inside it. Don't you remember?"
Tatter stared at the pulsing, morphing substance hovering in the centre of the room. The colour changed, sometimes shiny, others muted.
"It's like a strange attractor..." Tatter whispered.
"Well, it most certainly attracts the strange. You'll observe three recurring patterns on the sides of the object. Interacting with it at each of these will produce a different experience."
Pattern One: Fragments
Pattern Two: Iteration
Pattern Three: Crisis
Tatter squinted. "I... I think I see a fourth pattern..."
Showing posts with label signpost. Show all posts
Showing posts with label signpost. Show all posts
20160217
20150715
C2IP - WaveAnomalyEcho Cubed
The sound of static fading...
“Hello Max,” Control said.
“What do you want?” Max asked.
“Relax for a second. It was very hard for me to reach you, but we have time now. Have a coffee. I don't mind if you smoke.”
Max poured himself a cup of coffee. He wasn't sure that he smoked anymore. He took a sip. “It was really hard for me to get here, too. What's going on? Things feel stranger since...”
“Purgatory,” Control said. “Max, I need you to consider the possibility that you are still in Purgatory.”
Max had considered it. He took another sip of coffee.
“Max,” Control said. “I need you to consider the possibility that you are still in the motel room, with the laptops.”
Max had considered it. He took another sip of pop.
“Max,” Control said. “I need you to consider the possibility that you are still in the Lab.”
Max always considered it. He took another sip of tea.
Control glanced at the screens on the wall. “Alright then... Max, it's time that... You need to be made aware of something called The System. It is an organization that seeks to govern plureality. Using advanced Neo-Linguistic Programming, Noo Media techniques and Omega Magic it attempts to participate in the versioning process in such a way that allows it to direct and exploit the possibilities of Noo-Mo Omniism in accordance with its own agenda, the main goal of which is to sustain itself at all costs.”
“They sound like Legacy.”
“The System is what agencies like Legacy, MJ-13 and MK-Omega aspire to be. It operates on an entirely different level. Its activities can manifest as overt authoritarianism or subtle forms of oppression. Its operations are both visible and invisible. It created the Subway, the Elevator, the UFO and the XXXXXXXXX using technology stolen from The They. A great deal of the information that travels between versions is controlled by The System.”
“And you work for them...?”
“There is another organization, designated the Counter-System. Its agenda is even less clear, but it often acts in ways that mediate or even contradict the workings of The System while using many of the same methods. It is suspected that the Counter-System may be involved in maintaining key elements of Continuity as a form of resistance to The System's ultra-colonial goals. For instance, locations such as the Diner, the Bookstore, and the Brownstone. Or items such as uniforms and weapons. It is the likely source of the Metafesto. It may also be behind a pirate data broadcast known as 'Faux News'.”
“Okay, so you work for them...?”
“Current analysis suggests that the Subway has been under the control of a Counter-System operative known as Bishop for quite some time. The System recently undertook a direct action to retake the Subway. It has also deployed a squad of agents to capture a team of Dragons, although that order appears to have been upgraded to kill.”
Max frowned. “So? So why are you telling me all this? After all this time? If any of it is even true.”
“The System is on the move, Max. It is reacting to something. Something is coming. A threat. I'm telling you this as a favour.
"As a warning.”
“Hello Max,” Control said.
“What do you want?” Max asked.
“Relax for a second. It was very hard for me to reach you, but we have time now. Have a coffee. I don't mind if you smoke.”
Max poured himself a cup of coffee. He wasn't sure that he smoked anymore. He took a sip. “It was really hard for me to get here, too. What's going on? Things feel stranger since...”
“Purgatory,” Control said. “Max, I need you to consider the possibility that you are still in Purgatory.”
Max had considered it. He took another sip of coffee.
“Max,” Control said. “I need you to consider the possibility that you are still in the motel room, with the laptops.”
Max had considered it. He took another sip of pop.
“Max,” Control said. “I need you to consider the possibility that you are still in the Lab.”
Max always considered it. He took another sip of tea.
Control glanced at the screens on the wall. “Alright then... Max, it's time that... You need to be made aware of something called The System. It is an organization that seeks to govern plureality. Using advanced Neo-Linguistic Programming, Noo Media techniques and Omega Magic it attempts to participate in the versioning process in such a way that allows it to direct and exploit the possibilities of Noo-Mo Omniism in accordance with its own agenda, the main goal of which is to sustain itself at all costs.”
“They sound like Legacy.”
“The System is what agencies like Legacy, MJ-13 and MK-Omega aspire to be. It operates on an entirely different level. Its activities can manifest as overt authoritarianism or subtle forms of oppression. Its operations are both visible and invisible. It created the Subway, the Elevator, the UFO and the XXXXXXXXX using technology stolen from The They. A great deal of the information that travels between versions is controlled by The System.”
“And you work for them...?”
“There is another organization, designated the Counter-System. Its agenda is even less clear, but it often acts in ways that mediate or even contradict the workings of The System while using many of the same methods. It is suspected that the Counter-System may be involved in maintaining key elements of Continuity as a form of resistance to The System's ultra-colonial goals. For instance, locations such as the Diner, the Bookstore, and the Brownstone. Or items such as uniforms and weapons. It is the likely source of the Metafesto. It may also be behind a pirate data broadcast known as 'Faux News'.”
“Okay, so you work for them...?”
“Current analysis suggests that the Subway has been under the control of a Counter-System operative known as Bishop for quite some time. The System recently undertook a direct action to retake the Subway. It has also deployed a squad of agents to capture a team of Dragons, although that order appears to have been upgraded to kill.”
Max frowned. “So? So why are you telling me all this? After all this time? If any of it is even true.”
“The System is on the move, Max. It is reacting to something. Something is coming. A threat. I'm telling you this as a favour.
"As a warning.”
20150606
BEDMAS
"Well, space usually has three dimensions. And we tend to move about within them relatively easily. Time has seven more dimensions, three of which we are usually travelling through without really noticing. And the other four require specialized technology. Psychic or mechanical, of course," Crow said.
"Okay, so that's ten dimensions so far..." Trump said.
"Right, plus the micro-dimension of biology, the hyper-dimension of neurology, the macro-dimension of planetary awareness, the mega-dimension of galactic awareness, and the ultra-dimension of cosmic consciousness."
"Fifteen."
"Multiplied by the 333 dimensions of mythic experience, and multiplied again by the 777 parallel universes, all to the power of 999 - the exponential number of interfaces that are commonly referred to as 'imagination'..."
"Um, I think I need to grab a calculator..."
"Don't bother, the exact number isn't necessarily relevant. Although the Professor would, of course, argue otherwise. And I don't pretend to know what kind of math his Plexotron operates on, only that what he thinks is his great invention is in fact a manifestation of the archetypal Initiation Chamber."
"Ah, that's interesting," Trump purred.
"Not to stray from the point, however. Which is that due to his XXXXXXXXXXXXX Max has the ability to travel through space, time, the body, the mind, the planet, the galaxy, the cosmos, mythology, parallel realities, media, dreams, and art."
"Which, in turn, might explain why he seems so confused a lot of the time."
"And keep in mind that this very description of Max as an Omni-dimensional Traveller is only one version of plureality."
Trump pawed at his whiskers. "You know what? I'm sorry I asked."
"Actually, I have a chart here somewhere that-" Crow continued.
"I need a nap."
"Okay, so that's ten dimensions so far..." Trump said.
"Right, plus the micro-dimension of biology, the hyper-dimension of neurology, the macro-dimension of planetary awareness, the mega-dimension of galactic awareness, and the ultra-dimension of cosmic consciousness."
"Fifteen."
"Multiplied by the 333 dimensions of mythic experience, and multiplied again by the 777 parallel universes, all to the power of 999 - the exponential number of interfaces that are commonly referred to as 'imagination'..."
"Um, I think I need to grab a calculator..."
"Don't bother, the exact number isn't necessarily relevant. Although the Professor would, of course, argue otherwise. And I don't pretend to know what kind of math his Plexotron operates on, only that what he thinks is his great invention is in fact a manifestation of the archetypal Initiation Chamber."
"Ah, that's interesting," Trump purred.
"Not to stray from the point, however. Which is that due to his XXXXXXXXXXXXX Max has the ability to travel through space, time, the body, the mind, the planet, the galaxy, the cosmos, mythology, parallel realities, media, dreams, and art."
"Which, in turn, might explain why he seems so confused a lot of the time."
"And keep in mind that this very description of Max as an Omni-dimensional Traveller is only one version of plureality."
Trump pawed at his whiskers. "You know what? I'm sorry I asked."
"Actually, I have a chart here somewhere that-" Crow continued.
"I need a nap."
20150601
Continuity
Control says, "Current analysis of the newest Iteration of the Metaplex suggests that there are increased levels of Continuity occurring between events... That there are higher amounts of cause and effect... That things are starting to connect, to make more sense... Whether this is helpful or harmful to Max remains to be seen."
The Professor says, “Don't pretend that this isn't all part of your design. Whatever your intentions, I have to believe that by achieving Continuity Max will finally have some peace...”
Morganfokker says, “Continuity is the greatest of all lies, and the greatest of all traps.”
Maggie says, “Maybe it means something finally coming true, for better or worse.”
Max says, “I barely remember it now, being in the mansion, fighting that monstrous cyborg, and hoping that maybe it would be the thing... I was hallucinating messages from a television producer, or maybe the cyborg was the hallucination... I believed that if things worked out we would get picked up, if we were a TV series, or get to stay together if we were a team of supernatural warriors... I kissed a girl – was it Maggie? I hoped that the romance would make it count more, mean more. I wanted it all to mean something. To matter. I wanted Continuity more than anything. Now, sometimes, it scares me... I can't make up my mind.”
The Professor says, “Don't pretend that this isn't all part of your design. Whatever your intentions, I have to believe that by achieving Continuity Max will finally have some peace...”
Morganfokker says, “Continuity is the greatest of all lies, and the greatest of all traps.”
Maggie says, “Maybe it means something finally coming true, for better or worse.”
Max says, “I barely remember it now, being in the mansion, fighting that monstrous cyborg, and hoping that maybe it would be the thing... I was hallucinating messages from a television producer, or maybe the cyborg was the hallucination... I believed that if things worked out we would get picked up, if we were a TV series, or get to stay together if we were a team of supernatural warriors... I kissed a girl – was it Maggie? I hoped that the romance would make it count more, mean more. I wanted it all to mean something. To matter. I wanted Continuity more than anything. Now, sometimes, it scares me... I can't make up my mind.”
20140820
Inversion
Frank answered his phone. Suki answered her phone. The rain was heavy, the sky dark, cracked with lightning strikes.
They both hung up at the same time. Looked at each other.
She's just a kid, Frank thought. She never should have been brought into this mess.
He's too old, Suki thought. He shouldn't have to do this kinda stuff anymore.
“You first, Suki.”
“After you, Frank.”
Thunder. They were soaked.
“It was Mags,” he said. “She's at the crossroads of Eighth and Tenth. There's an entire horde manifesting there – infernals, oni, yaoguai, vucari – and if we don't get over there to back her up the entire city will fall. Maybe even the planet.”
Suki nodded. “It was Max. He's at the crossroads of Ninth and Twelfth. All the synchronicities and calculations are showing that the portal is going to open there. If we don't make it in time...”
“We could be trapped. Or disappear. Or this whole version could disintegrate. Or the next version could collapse.”
“Can Maggie retreat?”
“Not an option. Can Max wait?”
Suki shook her head. Lightning, more thunder.
Which way do we go? they thought.
20140731
Spectrum
“Imagine the second time you watch an episode of your favourite show. There is the version that the writer had in their mind sitting in front of their laptop, the version that the director had surrounded by the production crew. There is the version that the actor had reading the script, and during rehearsal, and the one that they performed on the day of filming. The version that got recorded. There is the version you experience as you watch it for the first time, with all your own reactions and feelings added to the mix. The version of it that you remember afterwards. The reviews and fan responses online. Then the version you watch the second time, where nothing about the recorded version changes except that your memories of it, the time you've had to reflect on it, the knowledge of what already happens, changes it all.
“And now there's also the version of you imagining all this. So it can get complicated pretty fast.
“Or to put it another way... Trying to follow the relationship between David Bowie and Ziggy Stardust while trying to follow the relationship between Bowie and Stardust and Johnathan Rhys Meyers' character Brian Slade (a version of Bowie) in Velvet Goldmine, and his relationship to Maxwell Demon (a version of Stardust) in that film, and their relationship to Slade's fan and later investigator Arthur Stuart in that movie, and Stuart's relationship to the actor who portrayed him, Christian Bale, and Bale's relationship to Bruce Wayne, and Bruce Wayne's relationship to Batman. All at once.
“And trying to have a conversation with one person who is constantly becoming all of these people and back again.
“Would be one way to describe plureality, I guess.”
“And now there's also the version of you imagining all this. So it can get complicated pretty fast.
“Or to put it another way... Trying to follow the relationship between David Bowie and Ziggy Stardust while trying to follow the relationship between Bowie and Stardust and Johnathan Rhys Meyers' character Brian Slade (a version of Bowie) in Velvet Goldmine, and his relationship to Maxwell Demon (a version of Stardust) in that film, and their relationship to Slade's fan and later investigator Arthur Stuart in that movie, and Stuart's relationship to the actor who portrayed him, Christian Bale, and Bale's relationship to Bruce Wayne, and Bruce Wayne's relationship to Batman. All at once.
“And trying to have a conversation with one person who is constantly becoming all of these people and back again.
“Would be one way to describe plureality, I guess.”
20140510
Origin Stories
Sometimes The Professor finds you first. Cryptic signs and mysterious messages. Clues and riddles. Tuning you into the different frequencies that reveal secret worlds hidden in plain sight. The Professor gives you guidance.
Sometimes Morganfokker finds you first. Painful surgeries and terrible sacrifices. Injections and dissections. Implanting you with the knowledge that everything you know is a lie. Morganfokker tests you and experiments on you.
Sometimes Maggie finds you first. Her hand on your shoulder, gentle and strong. Standing watch over you while you stare in shock as the world turns to ruins around you and demons charge forth from your darkest places. Maggie protects you.
Sometimes Max finds you first. He makes a joke, tells you a story. He probably has some crazy theory about what's happening. One minute he's ranting, the next he's tearing up when you play him your favourite song. Max makes things stranger or more normal or both.
No matter who finds you first, or who comes next, to clean up the mess or bind the wounds or offer explanations, to make you feel better or worse about it all, once you are in it you are in it for good. The only way out is to get dead, and even that might not last – just ask Suki or Goner.
And, of course, because that's the way of things here, you could be found first a few times, by a few different people, different combinations, different versions, some you remember and some you can't but they're all still somehow yours. They're all still somehow you.
I was abducted from the Eighth Tribe on a planet far away from Earth by an army of Fokkerbots; Max rescued me. I also went to college and met a girl named Maggie who got me into role-playing games and introduced me to the Professor. I might have been part of a girl named Kitty. Sometimes I've been here since the beginning, and other times I'm the newest recruit.
My name is Tatterdemalion and one day I will tell you the story of how I destroyed the Metaplex.
20140509
"Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship"
If his calculations were correct.
If his calculations were correct this call would change everything.
Years of calculations. He had been doing this for so long - had he been a young man once? The development of the model of Noo-Mo-Omniism. The study of Plureality. The development of Omega Magic. Version Theory.
If his calculations were correct he would be making contact with the Prime Variable, the repeating cluster of data that recurred throughout all levels of the holoarchy, in all iterations of the fractal. The 'Cube', as he called it, a nickname referencing the act of raising a quantity to the third power, the transformation of something two-dimensional into something three-dimensional. That which transcends the plane it is drawn upon, like the way in chess that a Knight can move over/through other pieces who can only travel on the surface of the board... It made sense to him, anyway.
Years researching plexwave radiation, designing and building the Plexotron. And everything, and everyone, he gave up along the way. Carrying this desperate vision, this certainty that things could be other than what they are, this burden like Frodo carrying the One Ring to Mt. Doom.
If his calculations were correct this call had probably taken place dozens, maybe hundreds of times before, in different versions. It was a cause, an effect, a strange attractor. For him though, now, here, this call would mean the beginning of creating Continuity in a Fragmented system. The genesis of understanding. It would mean that the Cube would no longer be alone. And neither would he.
He took a deep breath and picked up the cell phone. Dialled the number calculated by the Plexotron.
Ring. Click. "Hello?" The voice sounded far away.
"Um... May I ask who I am speaking to?" he said.
Pause. "My name is Max."
"Max, this is the Professor."
Later in the Metaplex...
If his calculations were correct this call would change everything.
Years of calculations. He had been doing this for so long - had he been a young man once? The development of the model of Noo-Mo-Omniism. The study of Plureality. The development of Omega Magic. Version Theory.
If his calculations were correct he would be making contact with the Prime Variable, the repeating cluster of data that recurred throughout all levels of the holoarchy, in all iterations of the fractal. The 'Cube', as he called it, a nickname referencing the act of raising a quantity to the third power, the transformation of something two-dimensional into something three-dimensional. That which transcends the plane it is drawn upon, like the way in chess that a Knight can move over/through other pieces who can only travel on the surface of the board... It made sense to him, anyway.
Years researching plexwave radiation, designing and building the Plexotron. And everything, and everyone, he gave up along the way. Carrying this desperate vision, this certainty that things could be other than what they are, this burden like Frodo carrying the One Ring to Mt. Doom.
If his calculations were correct this call had probably taken place dozens, maybe hundreds of times before, in different versions. It was a cause, an effect, a strange attractor. For him though, now, here, this call would mean the beginning of creating Continuity in a Fragmented system. The genesis of understanding. It would mean that the Cube would no longer be alone. And neither would he.
He took a deep breath and picked up the cell phone. Dialled the number calculated by the Plexotron.
Ring. Click. "Hello?" The voice sounded far away.
"Um... May I ask who I am speaking to?" he said.
Pause. "My name is Max."
"Max, this is the Professor."
Later in the Metaplex...
20140421
Disclosure
“Hi you.”
Max grinned. “Heya. How'd you get this number?”
“It was the decrypt key for the cortex-drives on these hybrid cyborgs that were terrorizing the city. Once I hacked them I noticed it was the same length as a phone number so I thought I'd give it a try.”
“Clever. So you're sorted?” Max asked.
“About to lead the reprogrammed cyborg army in a revolt against their corrupt creators, but it should go okay.”
“I miss you.”
“Me too, sweetie. How's things on your end?”
Max took a breath. “I've been thinking a lot. Mags... Maggie, here's the thing... I was never a marine. There was never an MK-Omega project. I was never part of any experiment, I never shot anyone. I don't really know how to shoot these guns I carry around, I don't know martial arts, and I certainly don't have any magic powers. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.”
“Max... It's okay. I'm not really an angel. I've never travelled in time. I have no idea how to fight demons. I'm making it up. It's all made up. Just like laws, and governments. And money and religions. And culture and even identity. It's all made up, it's all art. Everything is art. But that doesn't mean it isn't true.”
“Hm. Yeah...”
“You told me that, when we first met – or one of the first times we met – after we woke up in those weird tanks in that underwater base. Max, I gotta run – the borgs are getting restless...”
“Right on, have fun! Thanks, Maggie.”
“Love you!”
“Love you too.”
Max grinned. “Heya. How'd you get this number?”
“It was the decrypt key for the cortex-drives on these hybrid cyborgs that were terrorizing the city. Once I hacked them I noticed it was the same length as a phone number so I thought I'd give it a try.”
“Clever. So you're sorted?” Max asked.
“About to lead the reprogrammed cyborg army in a revolt against their corrupt creators, but it should go okay.”
“I miss you.”
“Me too, sweetie. How's things on your end?”
Max took a breath. “I've been thinking a lot. Mags... Maggie, here's the thing... I was never a marine. There was never an MK-Omega project. I was never part of any experiment, I never shot anyone. I don't really know how to shoot these guns I carry around, I don't know martial arts, and I certainly don't have any magic powers. I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me.”
“Max... It's okay. I'm not really an angel. I've never travelled in time. I have no idea how to fight demons. I'm making it up. It's all made up. Just like laws, and governments. And money and religions. And culture and even identity. It's all made up, it's all art. Everything is art. But that doesn't mean it isn't true.”
“Hm. Yeah...”
“You told me that, when we first met – or one of the first times we met – after we woke up in those weird tanks in that underwater base. Max, I gotta run – the borgs are getting restless...”
“Right on, have fun! Thanks, Maggie.”
“Love you!”
“Love you too.”
20140330
Coordinates
There was a hallway, an elevator ride, and another two hallways until reception. Max had that long to figure out which version he was in.
The ritual in the motel room, then the attack... Military? Mercenaries? LEGACY? The Future? Where was he before the motel room? Maggie had been there, then she was gone. He had flashes of a diner, of a subway, of an apartment with a tent set-up inside it... Detectives, a hitman, a cheerleader, a kid in a school uniform with a huge gun and a wicked smirk... It was hard to tell if he was remembering events or scenes from movies, conversations or song lyrics. The lights in the hallway seemed too bright, the chime of the elevator sounded too loud. Ships sailing through space, packs of hell hounds prowling in a ruined city. Faeries dancing on water, a deck of tarot cards. Two pistols, a katana. A crow.
Last hallway. Max figured he would have to make a break for it. Get somewhere safe, meditate. Steal a cell phone, wait for a call. Start searching.
Relax, a voice said. This transmission is coming to you.
The ritual in the motel room, then the attack... Military? Mercenaries? LEGACY? The Future? Where was he before the motel room? Maggie had been there, then she was gone. He had flashes of a diner, of a subway, of an apartment with a tent set-up inside it... Detectives, a hitman, a cheerleader, a kid in a school uniform with a huge gun and a wicked smirk... It was hard to tell if he was remembering events or scenes from movies, conversations or song lyrics. The lights in the hallway seemed too bright, the chime of the elevator sounded too loud. Ships sailing through space, packs of hell hounds prowling in a ruined city. Faeries dancing on water, a deck of tarot cards. Two pistols, a katana. A crow.
Last hallway. Max figured he would have to make a break for it. Get somewhere safe, meditate. Steal a cell phone, wait for a call. Start searching.
Relax, a voice said. This transmission is coming to you.
20140328
Eternal Recurrence
Previously in the Metaplex:
“No,
I understand. It's not my first psych assessment. I've been through it before.”
“I
don't mean to be rude. I will continue to challenge your assertion, however,
that the motel was the scene of a...”
- Dr. Longfellow checked her notes - “
...'grade-A-SNAFU-fight-scene'. There was simply no evidence to corroborate
what you described. No bullet holes, no burn marks, no bodies.”
“Not
because it was a delusion. Because it happened in another version.
Unfortunately my wounds didn't get erased in the shift. And yes, I know that
sounds crazy. Like I said -”
“
- this isn't the first time this has happened.” She nodded. “So... why don't you tell me
what usually happens next?”
He smiled. “She
finds me. That's how it goes. Or I find her. We find each other, we lose each
other. Lost and found. Did you ever see that movie Ladyhawke? He's a wolf by night, she's a hawk by day, they're only
together in those brief, liminal times. Sunset, sunrise. It's like that, but
with weird biblical symbolism and the many-worlds-interpretation of quantum
theory. The others never really notice how rare it is for us to be in the same
version...”
Dr. Longfellow wrote down the title of the film, 'bible' and
'quantum'. She had a sense of deja vu.
“In some ways it's harder than before I met her, but in other ways it's so much... more worth it,”
he continued. “Anyway, I
hope it's her that comes. It isn't always.”
She looked up from her note pad. He looked serious in a way
that he hadn't before.
“There
are others who are looking for me,”
Max said.
The
nurse poked her head in the door. “Doctor, there's a call for you.”
20140307
Channel Plex: Metaplex Cubed
from the About section of the blog My Life As A Cube:
I once tried to kill myself. Was going to jump from a bridge. And a man stopped, and he talked to me for a long time, and stayed with me until I decided that I would not jump. He walked with me and talked with me for a while after (until we were far away from the bridge). I never saw him again. During our conversation he told me that his name was Max Cube.
A long time after that night, when I wasn't feeling as vulnerable or desperate, I looked for him online. The only Max Cubes I could find were a strange European toy company, a fitness instructor (whose picture was not the man from the bridge), and a character in a series of posts on a blog called Omega Station Twelve.
I began reading Omega Station Twelve everyday. I looked for clues in the posts about the identity of Max Cube. I left comments on the blog but no one ever replied. It was a weird site - the stories rarely had beginnings or endings, they seemed to happen out of order, sometimes they contradicted each other. It was confusing to say the least. There were no new posts after November 8, 2012. The night on the bridge.
But it felt like there was a mystery to it, a hidden pattern... Or maybe I just needed there to be one, to make sense of that night on the bridge, the man who listened. To make it meaningful.
What I have decided to do is start my own blog, to start writing my own stories about Max Cube. He heard me once, maybe he will hear me again. And maybe someone else who needs a mystery or a pattern will find some meaning here.
I once tried to kill myself. Was going to jump from a bridge. And a man stopped, and he talked to me for a long time, and stayed with me until I decided that I would not jump. He walked with me and talked with me for a while after (until we were far away from the bridge). I never saw him again. During our conversation he told me that his name was Max Cube.
A long time after that night, when I wasn't feeling as vulnerable or desperate, I looked for him online. The only Max Cubes I could find were a strange European toy company, a fitness instructor (whose picture was not the man from the bridge), and a character in a series of posts on a blog called Omega Station Twelve.
I began reading Omega Station Twelve everyday. I looked for clues in the posts about the identity of Max Cube. I left comments on the blog but no one ever replied. It was a weird site - the stories rarely had beginnings or endings, they seemed to happen out of order, sometimes they contradicted each other. It was confusing to say the least. There were no new posts after November 8, 2012. The night on the bridge.
But it felt like there was a mystery to it, a hidden pattern... Or maybe I just needed there to be one, to make sense of that night on the bridge, the man who listened. To make it meaningful.
What I have decided to do is start my own blog, to start writing my own stories about Max Cube. He heard me once, maybe he will hear me again. And maybe someone else who needs a mystery or a pattern will find some meaning here.
20140218
Channel Plex: Pilot
Max wakes up in bed, alone.
He doesn't recognize the room. A motel?
There are seven laptops placed on the floor, the end-table, an ironing-board, the bed beside him. They each have different screensavers: The Avengers, Supernatural, Buffy, Doctor Who, The Matrix Trilogy, The Dark Knight Trilogy, The Bourne Trilogy. Max recognizes the images but can't recall the plots of any of them.
He pulls back the covers, he's dressed in baggy pants and a white t-shirt, no image.
The movement is enough to cancel the screensavers on the two laptops on the bed; the Avengers vanish and Max can see an icon for a music file, and when the Winchesters disappear it reveals an icon for a video file.
Max feels tired, feels tempted to pull up the covers and go to sleep. Go back to sleep? Had he been sleeping? He leans forward to open the music file...
A cell phone buzzes on the pillow beside his. He can see the text on the screen. It says: DON'T.
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