103 lines
3.9 KiB
Markdown
103 lines
3.9 KiB
Markdown
---
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title: 00059
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created: Mon, 30 Jan 2023 21:41:56 -0700
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updated: Mon, 30 Jan 2023 21:41:56 -0700
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public: yes
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syndicated: yes
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---
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### 00059 {#00059}
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> Alex procures from a pocket of his trenchcoat a tiny vial. On the
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> vial is a small strip of parchment which reads:
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>
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> ```
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> #!/bin/ash
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> sleepy=true
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>
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> sleep() {
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> while sleepy; do
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> sleep(10)
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> done
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> }
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>
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> trap sleep INT EXIT
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> ```
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>
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> He empties the vial into a glass of warm milk and hands it to bread.
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>
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> "Drink up friend, this'll relax and soothe you. You'll probably have
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> the best night's sleep you've ever had"
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>
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> Over the radio Alex provides a quick reminder to Marvelo.
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>
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> "7, remember, should you need to wake bread to get us out you can
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> interrupt or cancel the sleep script, Ctrl + C should work for the
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> disruption work. Or if you need to you can set sleepy=false, if it
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> gets crazy and you need to modify the metavarbalic properties of the
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> enchantment."
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>
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> Turning to Inky, "Eight bells and all's well, lets get this show on
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> the road"
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Bread smiles and thanks you for the milk. They down the glass, smack
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their lips a few times, and wipe their mouth with the back of their
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hand. Their eyelids grow heavy and close, and they slump down on the
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cushions. They're already asleep by the time their head hits the
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pillow.
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> Inky nods once at Alex's words and finishes off their own cuppa
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> steeped with calea and thyme, and blended into osmanthus matcha.
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> Lucida, Protege, Aware, Perfume. A meaningless mantra.
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>
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> They glance to their owlish accomplice (who, she will remind you, is
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> well-trained and needs no sleeping aid, thank you very much, unlike
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> her impish charge) and silently mouth the words "Dude 215R" with a
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> wink. Then they settle for a nap, chin pillowed on their forearms,
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> which are propped atop drawn-up knees. A walking stick rests on their
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> lap. A herb bouquet of pink blooms becomes an owl cushion.
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>
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> Inky dreamforms of a cream noogle. Puko. And Fuko is, well, still
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> Fuko.
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You light the Nyxmaer. The flame crackles and dances. It smokes
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darkly, and the scent it gives off is thick and heady.
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You breathe deeply of it and settle down to sleep.
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When you open your eyes you are standing on the branch of an enormous
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white tree. It's as wide as a narrow street. Its leaves are silver
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blades that uncurl in the dappled light from below.
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One of the first things you notice is that gravity is reversed here.
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The branches below you reach down, grazing an endless sky. Small
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iridescent jellyfish medusae drift lazily far, far below, catching
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and reflecting the light. And the trunk thickens as it reaches up
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overhead, where its roots drill into the ceiling above.
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Because of dream logic, you know that in some way this tree
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represents Kelsun Peak, Bread's home. And also because of dream
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logic, you know that the branches furthest away from you in some way
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represent the great dragon Lucin who lives deep in the mountain. And
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they are just as dangerous. They sway in the breeze and seem to be
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aware of you, and are for now satisfied at the distance you keep from
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them.
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There is a chipmunk sitting cross-legged before you on the branch. It
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looks curiously up at you and says, "The Red Squirrel stole my
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acorns! Are you going to get them back for me?"
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You can feel a metaphysical tug in your gut as your orient yourself
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to dreamspace like the needle of a compass. "Inward" you can feel a
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tug toward Bread's deep unconscious. To their core memories.
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"Outward" you can feel a tug away from Bread toward the shores of the
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Sea of Dreams, where you may continue your journey through the
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Collective Unconsciousness to the pocket dimension of the Wandering
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Bazaar. You need not move physically to travel in either direction.
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It's more a matter of choosing a destination, and letting the winds
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blow you in that direction.
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"My acorns!" insists the chipmunk, wringing its hands. "The Red
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Squirrel has taken them all! Are you going to help me?"
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WHAT DO YOU DO
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