PARABOLICAL GRAFFITI

If this doesn't fit the bill for SNAFU, I don't know what does.

Two questions:

What in Sam Hill just happened to me, and where can I get a stiff drink?

( These are my kind of folk )

Too bad you probably couldn't try that in L.A. without getting attacked by some anti-musical supernatural being. Any volunteers out there?

I found my Valentine. Don't worry though, I'll share. I couldn't keep a stud like this all to myself.

[Filtered against bad guys and Mirta]

Ok, so I've been seeing this Earth holiday advertised around, this Valentines Day thing. And I've finally gotten together with this really amazing woman. Only, well, this seems to be her opinion on the whole thing.

Do I get her something anyway?

If I do and she's offended she'll kill me.
If I don't and it turns out she really wanted something afterall, she'll kill me.

Help?!

So I think learning you're a fictional character and your entire life story is on many pages on the internet is as good a reason as any to get completely hammered. I hate this place a little bit more everyday.

Where am I?

One moment I was on an important assignment with my group, one we had been working on for several months. Suddenly I found myself here, and there are several things off about this city. How is it possible that the year is 2006, and how can I be in L.A.?

The Rebels must be responsible for this...

It's supposed to be 1998. And according to the sources I've read, there are vampires around here. I'll have to adapt.

I loathe situations like this.

This is something Fox Mulder would go through, not us.

Where the hell am I?

This is ludicrous. The papers say this is L.A., and that it's 2006. But that's not possible.

One minute I was in the core of Arsenal Gear, ready to confront an enemy agent. Now I'm here, and I haven't the faintest indication of how I got here.

Thank God my equipment came with me. At least I'm not totally defenseless in this place.

Somehow, the Patriots must be responsible for this...

American Idol is a strange show.

filtered; john
I may have found us somewhere to live. The Hyperion. I talked to a girl there and I am going to be working with them. She said we could probably stay there as long as we are part of the team.

My name is Cameron and a friend of mine suggested that I should let you know I am available to lend a helping hand if needed.

What is a 'shower'? Can't just be rain, because I can't take rain, eh?

filtered; john
I found a few places in the paper that seemed alright today. We can go see them tomorrow.

filtered; hal
I went to a painting class. It was enjoyable.

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In the Gospel of Luke 16:19–31, Jesus tells the story of Lazarus, a beggar who lay outside the gate of a rich man who dressed in fine clothing and dined sumptuously every day, but gave nothing to Lazarus. Both men died, and the beggar received his reward in the Hereafter, at the everlasting banquet, while the rich man craved a drop of water from Lazarus' finger to cool his tongue as he was tormented with fire.

In the Gospel of John, Lazarus was a man who lived in the town of Bethany. His sisters, Mary and Martha, sent word to Jesus that he was ill. Jesus delayed, and when he finally arrived it was found that Lazarus had been in the tomb for four days. Martha reproached him, and when Jesus assured her that Lazarus would rise she thought he was referring to resurrection on Judgment Day. To this Jesus replied, "I am the resurrection, and the life: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die". In the presence of a crowd of mourners Jesus had the stone rolled away from the tomb and bade Lazarus to come out. This he did, still wrapped in his grave-cloths.

There is a Lazarus pit, I saw it on the news. Has anyone been?

( filtered; hal )

Can someone please explain to me why I had to argue over the fact I exist? Just when you thought this place couldn’t get any stranger, it surprises you.

Oh! So you're all having problems with each other, eh?

I know how to solve them easily enough.

Cage matches, anyone?

Good God, what is wrong with people?

My cough has turned bloody, but at least my fever's mostly gone and I can keep something down, now. Water, mostly, of course, but still.. it's a start. Dave would probably tell me I'm an idiot.

I've hit a dead end in my research. The equation is resulting in imaginary numbers, strings of questions, and yes/no. Thankfully, I've found other pursuits to distract myself when I'm frustrated like this. Alternate timelines within a certain dimension are possible, aren't they? I'm beginning to believe so. People have left and come back and they remember things. That means their knowledge of events that occurred here were carried back to their own dimensions. Knowing that, how could that not change their perception of their world, the people they know, and their own existence? --But then, that's the point, isn't it?

There's a theory of time travel that I think is interesting. It goes something like this: a future that's already written is unchanging. After all, were you to travel back in time in order expressly to change the future, it's inevitable that you yourself may be changed; a paradox, and therefore an error in reality. What if the change you create is so great as to write yourself out of existence? Does the change even occur, then, without you there to create it? Thus, it's proposed that reality has a kind of self-defense it might use in such an instance. --Those that do said travel and write a change into their future, as well as said changed future, are split off into a branching timeline, whereas the original goes on unimpeded.

If that's so, how many dozens of versions of the same world might there be in some dimensions? Surely others in other places have discovered time travel at some point. Cameron, for instance, is living proof of that.

And how depressing is it, if this is true-- the people the traveler loves, the reason he or she risks time to begin with, aren't changed, after all. Rather, an identical, alternate copy of of those people and things is created. You may never again see your mother/father/wife/husband/brother/sister/child/etc, but instead another version of that person.

It's a bit chilling.


Mantis brought me some sort of cold-medication, so between that and my runaway thoughts, please ignore anything that doesn't make sense. It makes sense to me, which I suppose is really the important thing. And typos. Ignore any typos. I'm really rather too tired to go back and fix them.

Perhaps I'll fix them later.


.. Probably not, though.

I found a tight leather jacket at this awesome store near the beach today.

There was a tortoise on the sidewalk it reminded me of Sarah.

You know, being here, with all the weird shit that happens, I almost always feel like I'm trapped in a crappy comic book, or a really bad movie. That's kind of annoying, really, but it's better than the life I lived before. At least I don't have to be afraid of them... There may be a lot of dangers here, but for some reason, I feel so much... safer. I feel... happy. Content in a way I don't think I've ever been able to be. Here, I don't have to live in paranoia, or constantly fighting to stop the inevitable. I don't have to hide here. I can finally live my life.

...Is it weird that I feel that way?

Oh, well, let's see now. I was born on a Thursday. It was (partly sunny with a 50% chance of rain). Mommy and Daddy were (morose). I went to the (purple) schools, in (Cairo), (Canada), and (McDonalds). Then, one (millisecond), I (shot) myself, "(it's freaking big)! What am I (saying) with my (telephone pole)?" And that was the (hour) I decided to (run), and (jump), and I would (shop) any (car) that tried to (destroy) (molecules).

After, oh, (seventeen days, three hours and eighteen minutes), I (shoved) myself in (pancakes), with a (Indochinese tiger), (lithium), and (12,434) of (pleasant looking) (beds). What would YOU do? Come on, really. I had to (pull) that (angry) (apple mac book pro) like a (havarti cheese) with a (headlamp), believe (she) (we).

After that, things got (catastrophic). But who needs to know about the (airplane) with the (quickly) (dangerous) (manx). Or the (investment banker) who (came) with (her) (subtropica) (third cousin twice removed).

filtered; dr hal
Are you feeling better?

thanks to dy for the madlib see knives_and_lint

What am I? If I'm a machine why do I sleep? Why do I keep dreaming of that song, over and over in my head? What does it mean to be one of the final five? Why are there no more copies of my model? Am I the last? Where the rest Boxed? If I die would I download to a new copy?

What's my number? If Cavil is One, Leoben is Two, D'Anna is Three, Simon is Four, Doral is Five, Caprica is Six, Sharon is Eight, then what am I? Seven? Or are we numbers Nine through Twelve?

My life is a lie, my parents, my history. Is anything I feel even real?

Is it my destiny to destroy humanity? I've come back, thousands of years, is it all to watch the cycle repeat itself? Watch them all die?

Or to destroy them myself. Is that what I'm supposed to do, supposed to be?

Frak it

You know I think I've listened to every version of "All along the Watchtower" there is and I have to say, Dillon was overrated. Hendrix did the best version.

I guess it's the flu or something. A bit of it's depression, too, maybe. I miss home a lot, and Sunny and Dave and the dogs.

I can't stop working, I can't sleep, because-- what if he dies while I'm gone? What if
I can't let that happen.
I guess I really am awfully attached to him.

I don't suppose anyone is familiar with the phenomenon of accelerated aging? That would probably be asking far too much, Hal.

I wonder what would happen if he and Sunny were brought here, instead?
But-- no, I almost hope not. They've both seen enough war and death.



It just isn't.. right. I keep expecting to hear him over codec. I miss Sunny tugging at my sleeve to get my attention. I don't belong here. I know, I know I should just adjust and make some sort of place for myself here, but--
How do they do it? How do other people come here, leaving behind family and friends and husbands and wives and lovers and.. and they're okay with it? I don't.. understand it at all.
I can't stop thinking about them. Even Mantis told me in no uncertain terms that I need to shut my brain up. I just.. can't.




I'm so selfish. If I have to be here, I want them here, too.




I guess I don't really have much to say today.

Where is the toolkit? I need it.

You should help Lana evacuate the building. If I am in the building when the bomb goes off and there is damage to my chip do not fix it. Take me out. I'm sure this will be easier for you than your younger self.

HeY, lOs AnGeLes! LeTS PlaY A lIttlE gAMe. yoU kNOw hoW iT GOeS!


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H I C K O R Y   D I C K O R Y   D O C K

T H E   M O U S E   R A N   U P   T H E   C L O C K

T H E   C L O C K   S T R U C K   O N E

A N D   I S I S   E X P L O D E D

Of course, the stick figure I'll be drawing is just a representation of Frank here. Frank will be our hanged man tonight. I tried to find Jason but, well gee, I already killed him, didn't I? Anyone seen my crowbar?

[edited after game]
BRANIAC WINS!

So, how much can you believe what you read?

Are you somewhere safe?
The clown is odd, he should be telling jokes not blowing things apart.

I know I've said it before, but allow me a moment to vent.

I hate this place.

[Isis]
I really hate to do this, but I can't take any chances. I'm clearing room in the banquet hall and I want all of you to spend the night there in case there's an emergency evacuation. I don't know for how long, but I want to be ready to get the hell out of here if we need to. Yes, I said we. I'll be staying with you.

[Family]
[ooc: Family = Bart Allen, Kara Zor-El, Jack Landors, both Clark Kents and Lois Lane]

Am I dead yet? I feel like I should be by now.

I hate magic and I hate clowns.

Hmm. Well. Well, well, well. Isn't this... quaint.

Let's liven up the place.

Sometimes, when I find myself growing frustrated, I wonder to myself... what do you all really want?

Has anyone seen Lana Lang today? Maybe I just keep missing her, but I haven't seen her around Isis all day. She's supposed to be here.

Edit: Nevermind.

[ooc: You decide if your character saw this before the edit.]

I managed to get myself a job and one similar to what I had back home. I guess I just have to get used to not having Davis with me.

It feels so weird to be working at the County Morgue without him...

Do you know anything of a Dr. Hal Emmerich from your timeline?

Mantis took off. He read something about a Ginny Potter being hospitalised I refuse to believe it's the Ginny Potter, else I'm losing my mind and just.. left. He seemed very concerned.. To be honest, I'm shocked he's actually made those kinds of connections with people here. I mean, I only knew him while I was working on REX, but he never seemed capable of caring. One has to understand, of course, that those in FOXHOUND were a certain kind of people, and I've never met anyone as fundamentally damaged as Psycho Mantis. He's told me about a place called the Hyperion, here, and the people who live there, and how much like family they are to him. I-- I'm honestly shocked. They must be really special people.

I've been in and out of libraries since I got here, online doing research. I may have illegally created an identity for myself, appropriated funds, and hacked the FBI.. In my defense, I didn't have much choice. My eyes aren't focusing properly. Odd. Oh. When was the last time I slept? I'm not used to not having my CODEC available. I'm pretty sure it's on the fritz, though, as the technology's not actually available here. Something scrambled the signal, and now they're taking too much energy without anything to regulate them. I'm pretty sure I have a fever. I may have to cannibalise a computer to rig something up to help. Half of the parts I think I need I'm pretty sure don't actually exist.

Oh. The Twilight Zone is on in another room. It still sort of feels that way.


I don't really understand how people take this all in stride. It's very zen. I am not a very zen person. I am a mousy-looking, high-strung scientist with a lot of nervous habits. I guess it's sort of inevitable that I'd react to something like this with shock and curiousity and a necessity to know what in the world just happened.

And well, naturally, leaving Sunny and Dave behind has something to do with it all, as well.

Have I eaten? Huh. No wonder I'm dizzy.



It's snowed. It isn't anything like Alaska, of course, but it still makes me homesick. it's still lovely.

ummm
am back ?


maybe was not snowing when last here

Guys! Santa is coming soon!!!!! It's almost Christmas!

I've never seen so many frogs before.

I lost count after twelve.

Know what sucks...

People with weird minds. Like first the preacher. Ew. He felt totally rank, it made me for a minute question one of my dresses as being too whorish. Me? I mean...Hello...

Incidently, SO unfair. You played me people and that is totally uncalled for

and this girl from a while ago...its like theres two of her. Ones a total bitch too...

I miss the days I could just brain suck a witch and move on.  Cause seriously, witches totally a pick me up...zesty or something.

Again.
This is less than ideal.

John?

....Jaaackie? Where are you?

Uncle?

Okay....this is weird. Nevermind Jackie, where am I? bad day bad day.

Los Angeles. 2005. Possibly time travel? Sounds unbelievable. Probably true.

Must investigate further.

I wasn't aware people were supposed to turn to dust when you took off their head. Please explain.

Tell me a secret and I promise I won't tell anyone. Think of it as strictly business.