Month: September 2002

So, we went to the first of the two shows from The New Yorker festival we are attending this year last night. Totally kick ass. Stephen King and Amy Tan. Amy Tan’s storytelling was breathtaking, and really grabbed ahold of the audience. Stephen King was mystifying. He said he was interested in slowig down, but, that he was about 14 pages away from finishing hte last 3 books in the Dark Tower series.

Good Shit.

Richelle and I were at the front of the line. We saw John Turturro and his son sneak in ahead of us. The press was really bugging him, so he went and sat in the balcony. The show was definitely worth the price of admission. They have me hooked as a repeat atendee as long as they have these things!

Zen and the art of arrested development

Lui Po one day asked Wu Pan, “Why is it that the sun does not crash into the moon?” Wu Pan answered, “It is because the unit for infrared remote release attaches to the front release ports of the cast aluminium alloy shell with permanently attached motor housing in lightweight magnesium around the tripod socket threads.” Lui Po bowed before Wu Pan.
c/o http://www.bovineinversus.com/zen.html

This is the start of a simple glossary of short definitions for AI terminology.

  • ai: A three-toed sloth of genus Bradypus. This forest-dwelling animal eats the leaves of the trumpet-tree and sounds a high-pitched squeal when disturbed. (Based on the Random House dictionary definition.)
  • Admissibility: An admissible search algorithm is one that is guaranteed to find an optimal path from the start node to a goal node, if one exists. In A* search, an admissible heuristic is one that never overestimates the distance remaining from the current node to the goal.
  • Case-based Reasoning: Technique whereby “cases” similar to the current problem are retrieved and their “solutions” modified to work on the current problem.
  • Data Mining: Also known as Knowledge Discovery in Databases (KDD) was been defined as “The nontrivial extraction of implicit, previously unknown, and potentially useful information from data” in Frawley and Piatetsky-Shapiro’s overview. It uses machine learning, statistical and visualization techniques to discover and present knowledge in a form which is easily comprehensible to humans.
  • Fuzzy Logic: In Fuzzy Logic, truth values are real values in the closed interval [0..1]. The definitions of the Boolean operators are extended to fit this continuous domain. By avoiding discrete truth-values, Fuzzy Logic avoids some of the problems inherent in either-or judgments and yields natural interpretations of utterances like “very hot”. Fuzzy Logic has applications in control theory.
  • Nonlinear Planning: A planning paradigm which does not enforce a total (linear) ordering on the components of a plan.
  • Strong AI: Claim that computers can be made to actually think, just like human beings do. More precisely, the claim that there exists a class of computer programs, such that any implementation of such a program is really thinking.
  • Validation: The process of confirming that one’s model uses measureable inputs and produces output that can be used to make decisions about the real world.
  • Verification: The process of confirming that an implemented model works as intended.
  • Weak AI: Claim that computers are important tools in the modeling and emulation of human activity.

For those of you palying the home game….

1. Iraqi statesman, born 1937, who has survived at least 12 assassination attempts.
Saddam Hussein

2. American actress, born 1934, sister of Warren Beatty, she starred in the films “The Apartment” and “Sweet Charity”.
Shirley MacLaine

3. Writer, born 1949, author of “The Rachel Papers”, “London Fields” and “Experience”.
Martin Amis

4. British QC, born 1954, wife of a famous politician.
Cherie Booth

5. British film director, 1899-1980, his films include “The 39 Steps” and “The Lady Vanishes”.
Alfred Hitchcock

6. American poet, 1932-1963, her only novel was “The Bell Jar”.
Sylvia Plath

7. Orchestral conductor, born 1955, knighted in 1994, made his name with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra.
Simon Rattle

8. Deaf and blind American writer, 1880-1968, who refused to be discouraged by her disabilities.
Helen Keller

9. Born 1944, Indian prime minister from 1984 to 1989, grandson of Nehru, assassinated at an election rally in 1991.
Rajiv Gandhi

10. Lighthouse keeper’s daughter, 1815-1842, famous for rescuing people from a shipwrecked steamer off the northeast coast of England (she sounds lovable).
Grace Darling

PREFACE
In an extensive article in the Summer-Autumn 1990 issue of “Top Secret”, Prof J. Segal and Dr. L. Segal outline their theory that AIDS is a man-made disease, originating at Pentagon bacteriological warfare labs at Fort Detrick, Maryland. “Top Secret” is the international edition of the German magazine Geheim and is considered by many to be a sister publication to the American Covert Action Information Bulletin (CAIB). In fact, Top Secret carries the Naming Names column, which CAIB is prevented from doing by the American government, and which names CIA agents in different locations in the world. The article, named “AIDS: US-Made Monster” and subtitled “AIDS – its Nature and its Origins,” is lengthy, has a lot of professional terminology and is dotted with footnotes.

AIDS FACTS
“The fatal weakening of the immune system which has given AIDS its name (Acquired Immuno-Deficiency syndrome),” write the Segals, “has been traced back to a destruction or a functional failure of the T4-lymphocytes, also called ‘helper cells`, which play a regulatory role in the production of antibodies in the immune system.” In the course of the illness, the number of functional T4- cells is reduced greatly so that new anti-bodies cannot be produced and the defenceless patient remains exposed to a range of infections that under other circumstances would have been harmless. Most AIDS patients die from opportunistic infections rather than from the AIDS virus itself. The initial infection is characterized by diarrhea, erysipelas and intermittent fever. An apparent recovery follows after 2-3 weeks, and in many cases the patient remains without symptoms and functions normally for years. Occasionally a swelling of the lymph glands, which does not affect the patient’s well-being, can be observed. After several years, the pre-AIDS stage, known as ARC (Aids- Related Complex) sets in. This stage includes disorders in the digestive tract, kidneys and lungs. In most cases it develops into full-blown AIDS in about a year, at which point opportunistic illnesses occur. Parallel to this syndrome, disorders in various organ systems occur, the most severe in the brain, the symptoms of which range from motoric disorders to severe dementia and death. This set of symptoms, say the Segals, is identical in every detail with the Visna sickness which occurs in sheep, mainly in Iceland. (Visna means tiredness in Icelandic). However, the visna virus is not pathogenic for human beings.

The Segals note that despite the fact that AIDS is transmitted only through sexual intercourse, blood transfusions and non- sterile hypodermic needles, the infection has spread dramatically. During the first few years after its discovery, the number of AIDS patients doubled every six months, and is still doubling every 12 months now though numerous measures have been taken against it. Based on these figures, it is estimated that in the US, which had 120,000 cases of AIDS at the end of 1988, 900,000 people had AIDS or died of it by the end of 1991. It is also estimated that the number of people infected is at least ten times the number of those suffering from an acute case of AIDS. In 1995 there were between 10-14 million cases of AIDS and an additional 100 million people infected with HIV.

“AIDS does not merely bring certain dangers with it; it is clearly a programmed catastrophe for the human race, whose magnitude is comparable only with that of a nuclear war”, say the Segals.
” They later explain what they mean by “programmed,” showing that the virus was produced by humans, namely Dr. Robert Gallo of the Bethesda Cancer Research Center in Maryland. When proceeding to prove their claims, the Segals are careful to note that: “We have given preference to the investigative results of highly renowned laboratories, whose objective contents cannot be doubted. We must emphasize, in this connection, that we do not know of any findings that have been published in professional journals that contradict our hypotheses.”

DISCOVERING AIDS
The first KNOWN cases of AIDS occurred in New York in 1979. The first DESCRIBED cases were in California in 1979. The virus was isolated in Paris in May 1983, taken from a French homosexual who had returned home ill from a trip to the East Coast of the US. One year later, Robert Gallo and his co-workers at the Bethesda Cancer Research Center published their discovery of the same virus, which is cytotoxic. ( i.e poisonous to cells )

Shortly after publishing his discovery, Gallo stated to newspapers that the virus had developed by a natural process from the Human Adult Leukemia virus, HTLV-1, which he had previously discovered. However, this claim was not published in professional publications, and soon after, Alizon and Montagnier, two researchers of the Pasteur Institute in Paris published charts of HTLV-1 and HIV, showing that the viruses had basically different structures. They also declared categorically that they knew of no natural process by which one of these two forms could have evolved into the other.

According to the professional “science” magazine, the fall 1984 annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS), was almost entirely devoted to the question of: to what extent new pathogenic agents could be produced via human manipulation of genes. According to the Segals, AIDS was practically the sole topic of discussion.

THE AIDS VIRUS
The Segals discuss the findings of Gonda et al, who compared the HIV, visna and other closely-related viruses and found that the visna virus is the most similar to HIV. The two were, in fact, 60% identical in 1986. According to findings of the Hahn group, the mutation rate of the HIV virus was about a million times higher than that of similar viruses, and that on the average a 10% alteration took place every two years. That would mean that in 1984, the difference between HIV and visna would have been only 30%, in 1982- 20%, 10% in 1980 and zero in 1978. “This means,” say the Segals, “that at this time visna viruses changed into HIV, receiving at the same time the ability to become parasites in human T4-cells and the high genetic instability that is not known in other retroviruses. This is also consistent with the fact that the first cases of AIDS appeared about one year later, in the spring of 1979.” ”

In his comparison of the genomes of visna and HIV,” add the Segals, “Coffin hit upon a remarkable feature. The env (envelope) area of the HIV genome, which encodes the envelope proteins which help the virus to attach itself to the host cell, is about 300 nucleotides longer than the same area in visna. This behaviour suggests that an additional piece has been inserted into the genomes of the visna virus, a piece that alters the envelope proteins and enables them to bind themselves to the T4-receptors. BUT THIS SECTION BEHAVES LIKE A BIOLOGICALLY ALIEN BODY, which does not match the rest of the system biochemically. The above mentioned work by Gonda et al shows that the HIV virus has a section of about 300 nucleotides, which does not exist in the visna virus. That length corresponds with what Coffin described. That section is particularly unstable, which indicates that it is an alien object. According to the Segals, it “originates in an HTLV-1 genome, (discovered by Gallo-ED) for the likelihood of an accidental occurrence in HIV of a genome sequence 60% identical with a section of the HTLV-1 that is 300 nucleotides in length is zero.” Since the visna virus is incapable of attaching itself to human T4 receptors, it must have been the transfer of the HTLV-1 genome section which gave visna the capability to do so. In other words, the addition of HTLV-1 to visna made the HIV virus. In addition, the high mutation rate of the HIV genome has been explained by another scientific team, Chandra et al, by the fact that it is “a combination of two genome parts which are alien to each other BY ARTIFICIAL MEANS rather than by a natural process of evolution, because this process would have immediately eliminated, through natural selection, systems that are so replete with disorders.”

“These are the facts of the case,” say the Segals. “HIV is essentially a visna virus which carries an additional protein monomer of HTLV-1 that has an epitope capable of bonding with T4 receptors. Neither Alizon and Montagnier nor any other biologist know of any natural mechanism that would make it possible for the epitope to be transferred from HTLV-1 to the visna virus. For this reason we can come to only one conclusion: that this gene combination arose by artificial means, through gene manipulation.”

THE CONSTRUCTION OF HIV
“The construction of a recombinant virus by means of gene manipulation is extraordinarily expensive, and it requires a large number of highly qualified personnel, complicated equipment and expensive high security laboratories. Moreover, the product would have no commercial value. Who, then,” ask the Segals, “would have provided the resources for a type of research that was aimed solely at the production of a new disease that would be deadly to human beings?”

The English sociologist Allistair Hay (as well as Paxman et al in “A Higher Form of Killing”-ED), published a document whose authenticity has been confirmed by the US Congress, showing that a representative of the Pentagon requested in 1969 additional funding for biological warfare research. The intention was to create, within the next ten years, a new virus that would not be susceptible to the immune system, so that the afflicted patient would not be able to develop any defense against it. Ten years later, in the spring of 1979, the first cases of AIDS appeared in New York.

“Thus began a phase of frantic experimentation,” say the Segals. One group was working on trying to cause animal pathogens to adapt themselves to life in human beings. This was done under the cover of searching for a cure for cancer. The race was won by Gallo, who described his findings in 1975. A year later, Gallo described gene manipulations he was conducting. In 1980 he published his discovery of HTLV.

In the fall of 1977, a P4 (highest security category of laboratory, in which human pathogens are subjected to genetic manipulations) laboratory was officially opened in building 550 of Fort Detrick, MD, the Pentagon’s main biological warfare research center. “In an article in ‘Der Spiegel`, Prof. Mollings point out that this type of gene manipulation was still extremely difficult in 1977. One would have had to have a genius as great as Robert Gallo for this purpose, note the Segals.”

Lo and behold. In a supposed compliance with the international accord banning the research, production and storage of biological weapons, part of Fort Detrick was “demilitarized” and the virus section renamed the “Frederick Cancer Research Facility”. It was put under the direction of the Cancer Research Institute in neighbouring Bethesda, whose director was no other than Robert Gallo. This happened in 1975, the year Gallo discovered HTLV. Explaining how the virus escaped, the Segals note that in the US, biological agents are traditionally tested on prisoners who are incarcerated for long periods, and who are promised freedom if they survive the test. However, the initial HIV infection symptoms are mild and followed by a seemingly healthy patient.

“Those who conducted the research must have concluded that the new virus was…not so virulent that it could be considered for military use, and the test patients, who had seemingly recovered, were given their freedom. Most of the patients were professional criminals and New York City, which is relatively close, offered them a suitable milieu. Moreover, the patients were exclusively men, many of them having a history of homosexuality and drug abuse, as is often the case in American prisons.

It is understandable why AIDS broke out precisely in 1979, precisely among men and among drug users, and precisely in New York City,” assert the Segals. They go on to explain that whereas in cases of infection by means of sexual contact, incubation periods are two years and more, while in cases of massive infection via blood transfusions, as must have been the case with prisoners, incubation periods are shorter than a year. “Thus, if the new virus was ready at the beginning of 1978 and if the experiments began without too much delay, then the first cases of full-blown AIDS in 1979 were exactly the resultthat could have been expected.”

In the next three lengthy chapters, the Segals examine other theories, “legends” as they call them, of the origins of AIDS. Dissecting each claim, they show that they have no scientific standing, providing also the findings of other scientists. They also bring up the arguments of scientists and popular writers who have been at the task of discounting them as “conspiracy theorists” and show these writers’ shortcomings. Interested readers will have to read the original article to follow those debates. I will only quote two more paragraphs:

“We often heard the argument that experiments with human volunteers are part of a barbaric past, and that they would be impossible in the US today… We wish to present one single document whose authenticity is beyond doubt. An investigative commission of the US House of Representatives presented in October 1986 a final report concerning the Manhattan Project. According to this document, between 1945 and 1975 at least 695 American citizens were exposed to dangerous doses of radioactivity. Some of them were prisoners who had volunteered, but they also included residents of old-age homes, inmates of insane asylums, handicapped people in nursing homes, and even normal patients in public hospitals; most of them were subjected to these experiments without their permission. Thus the ‘barbaric past` is not really a thing of the past.”

“It is remarkable that most of these experiments were carried out in university institutes and federal hospitals, all of which are named in the report. Nonetheless, these facts remained secret until 1984, and even then a Congressional committee that was equipped with all the necessary authorization needed two years in order to bring these facts to life. We are often asked how the work on the AIDS virus could have been kept secret. Now, experiments performed on a few dozen prisoners in a laboratory that is subject to military security can be far more easily kept secret than could be the Manhattan Project.”

To fly, or not to fly: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the sky to suffer
The winds and rains of cumulus clouds,
Or to forsake all the possible risks and troubles,
And by caution end them. Caution: to fly:
No more; and by caution say we end
The challenge, and the thousand natural dangers
That flying is heir to, ’tis the danger
Devoutly to be avoided. Caution, to fly;
To fly: perchance with safety: ay, there’s the rub;
For with that safe flight what dreams may come,
When we have yet to stall or spin again,
Must give us pause: there are the manouveurs
That makes calamity so worthwhile:
For who should bear the risks and perils of flight,
The aggressive thermal, the powerful wind shear,
The pang of damaged plane, the law’s restraint,
The insolence of controllers, and the many dignitaries
That merit patience from the hurried pilot,
When that same pilot may make his release
By never flying again? Who would bear these trials,
To curse and swear under a dreary sky,
But that the boredom of something after flying,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No flying skills return, searches the soul,
And makes us rather bear those risks we have
Than walk to others that we know not of?
And thus the glory of a dawn flight
Is sickled o’er with the pale cast of fog,
And flights involving geat pitch and roll and yaw
Are by this inclement weather delay’d
And lost in the name of safety.

So I opened up Netscape to check my mail (because I hate Outlook, oh yes I do…) and this is what CNN has rated as their “Top Story”

What the bloody fuck is the news coming to in this country? I mean Holywood has always made headlines, but fucking “Top Story” on a touted international news source?

Man I wish that freakin technological Armageddon would hurry up and get here so I could give things a go at farming for a living =)

So, I got some last minute crap at work yesterday that I said I’d look at over the weekend. Now it turns out that the woman who wants the changes is requesting something I suggested to begin with, and now is making me look like I have a bug in my system because I didn’t “Impliment her suggestions from the start of the project.”

Fucking people suck.

I saw “One Hour Photo” last night. Tim and Rich both seemed to think it sucked. I saw it as a film, not a movie. Thats one thing I hate about Americans. For the most part, the population of this country wants to spend 10$ for 2 hours of cinematic jerking off. Even as we were leaving OHF, Rich was bemoaning the fact that if we had seen the movie with Lucy Liu and Antonio Banderas, we could have at least watched her kick some ass. Now I am not proporting to be a complete highbrow snob here. I like the stooges, and Mel Brooks. I like the occasional gratitous violence flik (although I am generally fast to point out all the errors/problems the physics/unlikely circumstances they portray create). I do, however, have a clear deliniation in my mind between films and movies.

Movies are a waste of time. Its blowing money to spend some time being entertained, and hopefully enjoying it. A film is not something you always enjoy. Some times you do… sometimes you walk away changed… Most of the time, you end up somber, reflective, and looking at your life a different way. Thats the difference between all the 6.95$ paperback bullshit for sale at a bus stop and the few literary greats out there. Its the difference between a billboard and a Picasso. One is commercial smut, whose only intent is to draw i ncome for the smut’s progenitor, the other is there because someone was struck by a creative urge.

OHF was a film. It was powerful. Robin Williams did some of his best acting in it (I think) since “Dead Poets”. See it. Don’t expect a lot of laughs, or to enjoy the two hours in the stands, but be prepared to watch an actor draw you into a world of lonliness, despair, obsession and tragedy.

Back to my anoying application.

Rarely through my life if you’d asked me the names of the seven dwarves could I have listed them in their entirety. I can now. They live in my brain. They don’t pay rent but they certainly eat the food and use far too much internet time.

There’s Sleepy…he pops in at about 4 am and yawns in my ear. Considering the contagious nature of yawns (see, you’re going to yawn now) I of course get really sleepy and head to bed. He gets his internet time.

There’s Grumpy….he’s the morning guy. He makes my coffee in hopes I’ll get grouchier from the caffeine. Not. I just let him grump as I do my ritual waking up.

Dopey….well he’s part of the morning ritual too. My occasionally odd methods of waking often get Dopey’s juices going and he writes with an almost out of body type demeanor. Weird. But good writing.

Doc is the one who pushes his way to the keyboard when I have work of an herbal nature. He likes to slip his thumbs in his belt loops and swagger while telling me all about the plants of the forest and field. Back to Sleepy, begging him to make me yawn to throw Doc the hint.

Sneezy is just plain annoying.

Bashful peeks out when I have to write a autobio or a promotional piece on my work. I hate doing these tasks. I’m not good at talking myself up and my mate gets terribly perturbed.

Happy emerges infrequently. I’m a rarely happy person on a regular basis. I ldo ove to laugh. The more I fill my day with this, the better day I have.

Have you ever noticed though, that some people really do NOT want to laugh? What, short of an abdominal incision, could make them not want to? What feels better? (the great sex answer is appropriate here)

I don’t want to deal with people who would rather go about their lives with the seriousness of the inquisition. No sirry bob…not me. I have little time for someone who would rather bring the world down than crack a smile. Here’s the lip-balm, here’s a clue and here’s your sign.

They don’t want life….they want a government job in a dusty basement office where they can make the centipedes miserable. More power to them. I’ll help them fill out the ap.

Life is too short. Yes, I know. An old cliche ….but totally one of those “BIG TRUTHS”!
In the history of our planet, our lifetimes are but a gas bubble in a bathtub. We are released onto the planet, we drift slowly upward (through wisdom) and cause a stink at the end of our journey to the surface. But, that stink means we’ve cleansed for the next go-round.

Me? I’m still half way between the butt and the stars. I’ll let you know how the journey’s going from time to time.


Greetings, confusoid. You scored a…
46%

Is it a bird? A plane? Is it a boy? A girl? Is it love, or is it lust? Ah, you. You are that rare mix of sensitive and sensual, romantic and randy, pride and prejudice, etc. When you see your crush, you waffle like a Belgian, unsure of whether you’d rather paint their toes or suck on their toes. Poets have long been puzzled by your kind. You’ll never fall for robots or nymphos, but you will suffer longs bouts of marriage.

cows in art class
good weather
is like
good women-
it doesn’t always happen
and when it does
it doesn’t
always last.

man is
more stable:if he’s bad
there’s more chance
he’ll stay that way,
or if he’s good
he might hang on,
but a womanis changed
by
children
age
diet
conversation
sex
the moon
the absence
or presence
of sun
or good times.
a woman must be nursed
into subsistence
by love
where a man can become
stronger
by being hated.

I am drinking tonight
and I remember the cows
I once painted in Art class
and they looked good
they looked better than anything
in here.

I am drinking tonight
wondering which to love and which
to hate,
but the rules are gone:
I love and hate only
myself-
they stand outside me
like an orange dropped from the table
and rolling away; it’s what I’ve got to
decide:kill myself or
love myself?
which is the treason?
where’s the information
coming from?

books…like broken glass:
I wouldn’t wipe my ass with ’em
yet, it’s getting
darker, see?
(we drink here and speak to
each other and
seem knowing.)
buy the cow with the biggest
tits
buy the cow with the biggest
rump.

present arms.
the bartender slides me a whiskey
it runs down the bar
like an Olympic sprinter
and the pair of pliers that is my hand
stops it, lifts it,
golden piss of dull temptation,
I drink and
stand there
the weather bad for cows
but my brush is ready
to stroke up
the green grass
straw eye

sadness takes me all over
and I drink the beer straight down
order another shot
fast
to give me the guts and the love to
go
on.





I am the undyingly dead ByrdTri!

Find your whimsy character at kelly.moranweb.com.

You are The Three: the Celestial Angel, Goatcheese Maiden, and Princess Mustardseed. You’re just a composition of the most brilliant (and idiotic) trio ever. And you die a lot.

Niche: You belong in the forest ecosystem! Not really, actually. You’re a fundamental part of Ach Mein Gott (a newsletter) and were our seal for Books (interesting pieces of folded paper with advice and stories on them). You served us well on paper but couldn’t survive for long enough periods to be planted in the ground or sky.

Upbringing: You were born in eighth grade, forever long ago. I think you formed a covalent bond between three folks at the institude and were strong, until, like, you died. A lot.

Aspirations: You want to be together again. As it seems, you’re only a ByrdDuo. Que triste!

Quirks: You don’t have any, really, because you don’t much exist. Tambien que triste.





I’m exceptionally artistic!

Find your soul type at kelly.moranweb.com.

Fair enough. Perhaps they haven’t. But now that you know, you must become one with your inner self.

Virtues: You look for immense creativity and individuality in people, including yourself. You’re not happy with anything less than brilliant, and you focus on being expressive. You value energy, liveliness, and upbeat personalities, but you’re not supportive of moodiness when you yourself can be unreliably moody. Seeking activity, you like the bustle of business but need the secluded atmosphere of a studio or private corner.

Aspirations: You feel the need to express your talents, whether it be through writing, drawing, singing, dancing, composing, performing, or photographing. While you strive to ever improve your work, you want to display it as soon as possible when your impatience kicks in. You want to be a prodigy but you might not have the means right at your fingertips. Trust me, do NOT move to New York to do it. Yeesh!

Quirks: Conformists bother you because of their lack of individuality. You’re often late or unreliable. You’re showy and refuse to share the spotlight. You only tell little white lies. You worm your way into the hearts of others, but be careful; some people despise the show-offs.

Factors: Surround yourself with activity and you’ll always have material to work with. Involve friends and family in your projects so they don’t feel like envious outsiders.

Future: Show business or not, you’ll settle down happily if you’re among those who appreciate your natural talents and desire to perform. Don’t stay in one place too long, and don’t be too hasty in defining your relationships. Who are you to judge what only time will tell?

Ten clues, ten famous people to identify. It really couldn’t be easier, so away you go. Good luck, and have fun.

1. Iraqi statesman, born 1937, who has survived at least 12 assassination attempts.

2. American actress, born 1934, sister of Warren Beatty, she starred in the films “The Apartment” and “Sweet Charity”.

3. Writer, born 1949, author of “The Rachel Papers”, “London Fields” and “Experience”.

4. British QC, born 1954, wife of a famous politician.

5. British film director, 1899-1980, his films include “The 39 Steps” and “The Lady Vanishes”.

6. American poet, 1932-1963, her only novel was “The Bell Jar”.

7. Orchestral conductor, born 1955, knighted in 1994, made his name with the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra.

8. Deaf and blind American writer, 1880-1968, who refused to be discouraged by her disabilities.

9. Born 1944, Indian prime minister from 1984 to 1989, grandson of Nehru, assassinated at an election rally in 1991.

10. Lighthouse keeper’s daughter, 1815-1842, famous for rescuing people from a shipwrecked steamer off the northeast
coast of England (she sounds lovable).

(I’ll post answers in a while in the response thread)

MEMORANDUM

To: Faculty and Staff of The Mount Sinai Medical Center
From: Kenneth I.Berns, MD, PhD President and CEO, The Mount Sinai Medical Center
Subject: Federal Grants to The Mount Sinai Medical Center for September 11 Financial Losses
Date: September 19, 2002

I am pleased to inform you that The Mount Sinai Medical Center will receive a total of $12,264,171 in federal grants as reimbursements for financial losses suffered as a result of our response to the attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001.

The grants are part of a larger $140 million assistance package that was announced on Wednesday by the U.S. Secretary of Health and Human Services, Tommy Thompson. Grants were awarded to help hospitals, clinics, community health centers, mental health providers, and other healthcare institutions recover from the financial impact of the September 11 terrorist attacks. They are intended to offset costs that cannot be recovered from any other source, such as insurance claims.

Specifically, Secretary Thompson announced the following grants:

The Mount Sinai Hospital: $10,364,171
Mount Sinai School of Medicine: $1,900,000

Our applications for these grants were the result of hard work by many people throughout the institution who provided data and information in a very timely and professional manner. As always, I appreciate your critical assistance in meeting the needs of Mount Sinai.

(1) What does the average University of Georgia player get on his SATs?
Drool.

(2) What do you get when you put 8 Arkansas cheerleaders in one room?
A full set of teeth.

(3) How do you get a Mississippi State cheerleader into your dorm room?
Grease her hips and push like hell.

(4) How do you get a Kentucky graduate off your porch?
Pay him for the pizza.

(5) Why do the LSU cheerleaders wear bibs?
To keep the tobacco juice off their uniforms.

(6) Why is the Vandy football team like a possum?
Because they play dead at home and get killed on the road.

(7) What are the longest three years of a South Carolina football player’s life?
His freshman year.

(8) How many Ole Miss freshmen does it take to change a light bulb?
None. That’s a sophomore course.

(9) Where was O.J. headed in the white Bronco?
Tuscaloosa. He knew that the police would never look there for a Heisman Trophy winner.

AND FINALLY…

(10) Why did Tennessee choose orange as their team color?
You can wear it for the game on Saturday, hunting on Sunday, and picking up trash along the highways the rest of the week.

Hmm, so apparently Richelle’s mom is worried about us getting blown up. I guess enough people feel like her to want Congress to give Bush the right to go play in the sand like daddy did. Long live the new Empire… I just hope I’m dead before the Palpatine hiding in the shadows assumes total control.

That took longer than I thought it would. I guess I did have a bit stashed on that blog, despite the fact that they lost so much content on me. Farewell for now blogger.com, I’ve moved on to better things.

So where do I start?
The beginning seems a natural place, yet, at the same time, it creates so many holes in the fabric of time/ space. There are no beginnings, only points in time…what was will be again, what is yet to come is yesterday in another ago…

Technology is a tool for those who know how to use it… it is a chain; useful, helpful… stronger than rope,
more durable than the worn out bands of braidedleather the old ones who walked this land (and loved its forests and trees; revered the spirits and old places, kept the balance of things) used to lash otogether the stipped birch poles of thier travios as they set out accross the great plains. Following the herds… the herds which would be dead before grandfather’s last tooth falls out…the days before the Great White Father, but after the Black Arrow slaughter… and the Yellow fever.

Technology is a tool… a chain… and it binds us as much as it helps us…

Back to beginnings, they bind us to… for, to say that you can create a start, a point “a” within the infinite

swirling of time which will have an ultimate destination “b” and a straight line between those two points; you are ignoring the swirling and branching properties of time and space. People think of lines when they think of space…. A Wrinkle in Time is alikened to an ant walking across a folding string between two collosal hands… What about above the ant, or below it? Or within it?

Energy and matter are the only constants; they exist in such multifasceted patterns and shifting states f
being that our ability to comprehend anything would be shattered into millions of tiny shards were we to glimpse a mere step in the great dance of the multiverse. To be able to exert a bit of control over the flux of matter into energy… that is true power. The herds move on, the old men die, our copper-skinned brothers knew these serets, and they learned them from thier father’s fathers. The secrets have been there since before man was man. They will be there again when man is dinosaur, and when man is man again… fighting over the condensed liquified bones of thier ancestor dinosaurs to power thier imbalanced motors… thier mechanical answer to that great power which comes in the form of magic.

There are no ends or beginnings, only the now.

Magic is making the now what you want it to be.

19 days to 2/24
a rarity-
only happens once in people’s lives
to be the same age as thier birthday
a rarity-
to think that nearly a quarter century has passed
and neither quarter
nor century _mean_ anything
if 24 is a defining part of who you are
(as the great white father
and the paper mountains majesty
which make his seas to shining seas
glimmer like the gold of
Sacagawea would say;
“Age, sex, SS#”)

What is the big deal?

Sometimes the small picture
seems so much larger
other times
you can’t see the aurora
for the eclipse…

Its funny how we don’t see the chains until its too late… I just poured my heart into a crucible of binary for almost a straight twenty minutes (two AC/DC, One Metallica, and half a techno song later) and because I hadn’t learned all the tricks yet, my words are toast… pen and paper sucks, but at least there is something salvageable. This leaves no buffer, no cache, no control-z, no way to recover the tattered remnants of yesteryear. When the Howard Carters of the next age pull forth our rank technoerotic remains up into the sunny air for the first time in forever, and the dry ar and blowing sands force him to rub his eyes, and transfer the microbe maggots of another time to a system which will be eaten alive; inside out, in less than a month… when that man comes forth, I hope he knows binary, for that is what all the remants of our age will be in… Someone had better keep around old CD players, floppy disks, tape drives, and other technologica around…because someday, in the tomorrow times, someone may need to know something. And there is no rosetta stone which will allow you to get the bits off the tape, and into someone’s mind.

A long night of silence, broken only by a missed phonecall… dishes done, bone-weary and contemplative.

The Dragon Slayer’s Quest

Once upon a time there was a fearsome dragon that lived in a cave and came out only to burn down all the local villages and eat people. Despite the numerous petitions the local residents had filed to their local government, absolutely nothing was done about the dragon. People had tried to reason with the dragon by going up to its cave in scared little huddles and shouting at it. All this achieved was getting burnt. One day a knight in shining armor rode into one of the local villages after a particularly vicious attack by the dragon. He rode sedately through the wreckage of the many wooden buildings with a worried look upon his noble features. He noted the dejected old folk sweeping away the charred remains of their homes, searching in vain for possessions that were still intact or failing that, survivors. (They’d learnt long ago that it was easier to get new people than to save up for another video or CD player.) The noble knight regarded all this with a solemn expression; many were the times when he’d witnessed similar tragedies and too damn often were the times when he’d been asked, as a shiny knight, to slay the beastly demonic creature and so on. Although he had a proper sword, suit of armor, lance and shield he was, when you got right down to it, a cowardly bastard. He was often thankful for his armor, not only because it had asbestos lining that prevented him from getting too badly burnt but also because the crotch wouldn’t
stain when he got really frightened.

The knight was breathing a sigh of relief as he reached the far side of the village without being called upon to
execute a deed of utmost valor when an old man sitting reflectively on a pile of charred bones whistled at him. The knight tried to pretend he hadn’t heard, but was betrayed by his horse who looked over its shoulder then trotted over to the man, who was holding out a carrot. The knight groaned inwardly as he dismounted and tied the horse to the remains of a tree. He had the feeling that the old man was going to be one of those philosophical sagelike people who would come out with a bucketfull of existential twaddle that would somehow convince him of the worthiness and necessity of riding halfway up a steaming hot smoky mountain before being attacked by a monster the size of three houses lumped together with breath hotter than an oxy-acetylene torch. In his spare time the knight was perfecting a formula for a type of flameproof varnish in order to save money on horses, which normally managed to buck the knight off and run away but sometimes got burnt out from underneath him. Unfortunately, his last batch was still untested, and he preferred testing on little dragons rather then beastly behemoths.

The old man waved the knight to sit down but the knight politely declined, preferring to sit on something
that looked slightly less like a ribcage, no matter how well-sprung and comfortable it seemed. He groaned as the old man lit up a pipe and narrowed his eyes as the smoke slowly seeped from his nostrils. They were even worse if they smoked a pipe. It gave them something to hold in one hand and point emphatically with, the pointing usually being accompanied by words to the effect of “you ought to be damn ashamed of yourself!

“There’s many a young man would be dyin’ for a chance to fight an evil dragon! Think of the prestige!…” He
eventually opted to squat uncomfortably on a sharp lump of charcoal that creaked for a few seconds before collapsing into dust. He sat on the bare earth instead.

“I bet you’re thinkin’ I’m goin’ to be a-tellin’ you to go an’ kill the dragon with that most shiny sword you ‘ave
at your side,” said the old man smugly as he puffed. “Well, I don’t disagree with the idea of there being in mighty battle in which the dragon is heroically slain, but I do ‘appen to know that there are better ways of gettin’ around this little problem.” He raised his eyebrow a fraction and jigged back and forth a little on his bones. The knight looked down his noble nose at the man and replied scornfully:

Oh, I’m sure old man. You speak as if the dragon could simply be switched off…!” The knight finished with a
superior form of laugh and flicked a speck of dust off the knee of his metal trousers.

“Now how’d y’know me secret before I told yas?” The old man dropped his pipe in consternation and glowered
at the young upstart as he tried to maintain his expression of cool knowledge. The Knight tried not lapse into a daze of stupefied glee at the thought of enjoying all the benefits of being a successful dragon-slayer (free feasts, countless goblets of disgusting but reassuringly expensive wine, scores of wenches, free passage through various kingdoms and suchlike) without having to risk getting killed or eaten. He magnanimously picked up the old man’s pipe for him and asked if he happened to know how you turned the dragon off.

The old man said you pressed the off button.

The knight thanked him for his time and was standing up to go when he realized he’d forgotten something.

“I’m terribly sorry,” he said, sitting again “but where exactly might one actually find the off button?” He

raised an eyebrow.

The old man’s wrinkled face split into a cheeky grin.

“It’s in the dragon, sort of just to the right of the sternum as you look at it. Just sort of behind the ‘art, in fact.

You has to push your sword deep into the dragon, push it through the ‘art an’ it’ll ‘it the button and the dragon’ll stop working!” He lit his pipe again and shifted position comfortably on the bones.

“So kind. Good day!” The knight (being quite thick) said happily as he sprung up (as fast as possible with
armor on, anyway) and grabbed the horse’s reins. Rather fittingly, thunder battered its way throughout the valley and lightning momentarily lit up the (k)night as he rode off towards the mountain that he had assumed to contain the dragon’s lair.

Luckily, it did live there, although it was currently not actually present in its cave as it was still pottering
around the countryside burning various things. On its way back home it spotted the knight as he dragged his exhausted horse up one of the steeper slopes and decided that it might be better in the long run if it were to circumspectly burn him now. So it did. But it didn’t as I’d forgotten that the knight supposed to be wearing asbestos armor. So it ate him instead, which it quite regretted as it ended up with stomach cancer and due to said asbestos. And it died.

Ken doll Ken doll whatcha want
Whatcha gonna do when Malibu Sun Barbie
Come for you tell me whatcha gonna do ooh
CHORUS
Ken doll Ken doll whatcha gonna do
Whatcha gonna do when you can’t make spoo
REPEAT
When you were made
And you had no traits
You go to Malibu you learn you’re a putz
So why are you acting like a bloody fool
If you got no schlong or a pair of nuts
REPEAT CHORUS
INTERLUDE
You chuck it on this one
You chuck it on that one
You chuck it on your mother and’
You chuck it on your father
You chuck it on your brother
And you chuck it on your sister
You chuck it on that one
And you chuck it on me
REPEAT CHORUS
Nobody naw gives you no schween
Police naw give you no schween
Soldier naw give you no schween
Not even you idren naw give you no schween
Why did you have to act so mean don’t you know
You’re a human being born without a groin
The love of a father
Barbies come and Barbies go
But you got no nuts so you can’t let go(x2)
REPEAT CHORUS
REPEAT INTERLUDE
REPEAT CHORUS TO FADE

Forlorn bones and shattered skulls
Armor rent; shields split…
Lances snapped and spears bent;
Blood for the Cross of the Martyr.

The golden moon on a sapphire backdrop,

The earth-mother’s love, the word adoration of Yaweh,
Buddas plump familiar smile,
Shiva’s allurnig dance.
All these must be crushed
Under the weight
Under the Truth
Of the Cross of the Martyr.

A quiet man sits alone in the desert,

Weary of preaching, tired of teaching.
Another man approaches, hoping to show
the follies of things yet to be
the hopes of reality ant the world.
“Tempter!” cries the quiet one “Let me be!.”
The tempter only wants to save
the blood
of the Children of the Martyr.

Now is the time of sackcloth suns

Of boiling seas
Of rivers of blood;
Now is the time when the sinners repent
Or do they?
Where is the righteous savior
who once cried “Tempter!”?

He sits with the white sheeted dragon;

He cavorts with the black-on-red spider;
The petty despots and slease of the world
Are once gain His table-fellows.
The Martyr of the Cross, returned,
Finds himself, again feasting with the
Udesireables.
This time there is no message
This time he has no crowds to preach to
They have already heard him,
And are as guilty as he is.

Oh sweet Jesus

what have you done?
You are human;
and by that sin, are undone.

My words trailed off… You made a dive for my crotch I wrapped my fingers in your hair and pulled your head up. I kissed your and you bit my lip hard. I pulled the over-size tank top you was wearing as a dress over your head, reached back and grabbed the handcuffs and cuffed your to the steering wheel. I pulled the seat as far back on the track as it would go and reclined the back of the seat. I unlaced your black Docs, took them off and threw them in the back of the van. Then came your socks, leggings and underwear.

I noticed you had tattoos on both legs. Those had not been there before. A raven, and a dolphin. How curious.
I pulled my shirt off. I had a bottle of chocolate syrup in my bag and drizzled it down your chest, around your nipples, in your navel and coated your sex. I licked the chocolate off your breasts, biting your nipples until they nearly bled. When I reached your navel, you began to giggle again. When I started to lick your sex, you moaned and the moans grew louder. I teased your clit with gentle nips and licked you clean. Then I flicked my tongue around the entrance to your vagina, just barely in. I returned my attention to your clit, sucking and biting. you tasted, not surprisingly, of chocolate.

I brought your just to the edge, then stopped. you kicked, furious. I gave your a predatory grin, then
removed my pants. you whimpered softly. I could feel your dampness throbbing against the pulsing head of my cock. you arched your back and begged as I slammed into you. The air grew charged and crimson between us. You screamed as I pounded you, delivering one orgasm after another.

The chain between the cuffs snapped, freeing your arms and leaving your with cuff bracelets. you reached
up with your left arm and grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing my head down. you took me in a brutal kiss, biting until the blood ran down my chin. you came again, then I finally had my release.

You stuck your finger in the blood from my lip, put it in your mouth and sucked. The light dimmed and
disappeared. You crawled over to the passenger seat. you got up and went to the back of the van, returning with two stadium blankets. you handed one to me, then wrapped the other around yourself and dozed off. I looked over at you thoughtfully, shook my head, started the engine and drove off.

I am a corpse for another day
all of it has gone away
along with cares
that no longer matter
bury me beside seven stolen roofing ladders
if for some reason I do not return
in hell my remains will burn
and all the love for me you never felt
will be once again shuffled and then redelt
although my shoes stink like cheese
to you that is all I have to leave
this is my will
the way I want it to be
so be sure to read this
should something ever happen to be
yes these are my wishes
my last plea
before the family begins to fight over me
I have no silver
I have no gold
but to you,I’ll leave all the lies I’ve told
and don’t forget the broken dreams I sold
look down at the pawn shop
its really quite near
I bet you wish now I would have just bought you a beer.

Marken under Chronopia Šr underminerad av kloaker och andra tunnlar som grŠvts under hundratals Œr. En kvŠll nŠr rollpersonerna gŒr pŒ en šdslig gata trampar en av dem ned i ett gyttjehŒl i marken och fastnar. NŠr de andra fšrsšker hjŠlpa honom loss, rasar marken och alla ramlar ned i ett rum som hšrt till kŠllaren under ett sedan lŠnge fšrsvunnet torn. Insmorda med lera men annars oskadda, mŠrker de att rummet har en dšrr till ett annat rum. …ppnar de dšrren, kommer de in i en mŠrklig kammare som ger intryck av att ha stŒtt oršrd mycket lŠnge. Rummet Šr Œttakantigt och i dess centrum finns en stol av sten, uthuggen ur klippan. Framfšr stolen ligger resterna av ett bord och ett flertal besynnerliga fšremŒl. De ser ut som stora, fšrvridna ljusstakar av koppar och fšrgyllt silver. Enbart materialet Šr vŠrt ett par tusen silvermynt. Alltihop Šr šversŒllat med runor och tecken som ger intryck av att fšremŒlen har nŒgot med magi att gšra (KŠnna magi ger dock ingen fšrnimmelse av magisk utstrŒlning). DŠr ligger ocksŒ en fin anteckningsbok i skinnband, pŒ vars omslag det stŒr TIDSSTUDIER. SL bšr vŠcka spelarnas intresse fšr anteckningsboken, eftersom hela Šventyret hŠnger pŒ den. PŒpeka gŠrna att boken verkar vara fullklottrad med nŒgon sorts magisk kod, och kan tŠnkas vara en vŠrdefull magisk formelbok. Detta torde vara uppenbart redan vid en fšrsta inspektion. Den som klarar ett svŒrt fŠrdighetsslag fšr Finna Dolda Ting (slŒs dolt av SL) upptŠcker att ett par av metallfšremŒlen Šr mŠrkta med orden “Loc-Dawn”. NŠr RP kommer upp till markytan igen mšts de av det lokala gatugŠnget, som (1) skrattar ut dem fšr att de Šr sŒ lortiga och (2) tvingar dem att lŠmna ifrŒn sig allt vŠrdefullt som de bŠr pŒ. (“Det hŠr Šr vŒrt omrŒde. Allt som hittas pŒ gatan hŠr tillhšr oss”.) Eftersom det redan finns flera gatugŠng att vŠlja bland, beskriver vi inget sŠrskilt gŠng i det hŠr Šventyret. SL kan anvŠnda nŒgot av de gatugŠng som finns beskrivna i grundreglerna (sid 188-189). Se till att gatugŠnget bestŒr av sŒ mŒnga personer att RP inte gŠrna angriper dem. Gšr klart fšr spelarna att gatugŠnget Šr hŒrda typer, turligt nog Šr de bara intresserade av vŠrdesaker som hittats i gropen. Om inte rollpersonerna sjŠlvmant lŠmnar den ifrŒn sig Šr gŠnget inte intresserade av boken, eller fattar inte att den hšr till fynden. Skulle det bli strid, kommer FridsvŠktare i Šnnu stšrre antal Šn gatugŠnget och bryter upp brŒket. Resultatet bšr bli att RP mister allt de kŒnkade pŒ nŠr de kom upp ur rashŒlet, utom anteckningsboken. Det har viss betydelse att de pŒ nŒgot vis fŒr ha den kvar. Antingen i brŒket eller nŠr alla Šr pŒ vŠg frŒn platsen intrŠffar ytterligare en incident. En goblin kommer rusande ur en mšrk grŠnd, sliter Œt sig ett av de blanka fšremŒlen och fšrsvinner, fšrfšljd av ett par busar ur gatugŠnget. Goblinen rusar rakt fšrbi RP men de hinner inte fŒ tag pŒ den. Rollpersonernas lilla missšde sŠtter nu igŒng en rad andra hŠndelser som delvis ligger utanfšr deras kontroll. Boken de funnit har i sjŠlva verket tillhšrt Mauretius, en beršmd trollkarl som levde fšr flera hundra Œr sedan. Den innehŒller svŒrtydda anteckningar som kan leda RP till Mauretius hemliga verkstad. Fšr att lyckas ta sig dit och kanske lŠgga beslag pŒ Mauretius skatter mŒste RP tyda anteckningarna och hitta ingŒngen. Men inget sker obemŠrkt i Chronopia, och andra krafter Šr redan i ršrelse… MŠrkliga hŠndelser Om rollpersonerna vill lšsa mysteriet med den upphittade anteckningsboken, finns det flera saker de kommer att bli tvungna att gšra. Steg 1: Antingen fšrsšker de tyda boken sjŠlva (med Kunskap om magi), eller sŒ anlitar de en utomstŒende magiker fšr att gšra det. Detta ger dem information om bokens ursprung och innehŒll. Steg 2: Sedan mŒste de med stor sannolikhet besška Arkitekternas Gille fšr att fŒ tag pŒ de kartor som behšvs fšr att pricka in platsen fšr Mauretius verkstad. Steg 3: NŠr de rŠknat ut rŠtt plats mŒste de gŒ dit och grŠva fram ingŒngen. Steg 4: NŠr de kommit in i Mauretius kammare rŒkar de ut fšr magiska saker som fšrmodligen ingen vŠntat sig. VŠgen frŒn fyndet av anteckningsboken till Šventyrets slut kan alltsŒ tyckas enkel och logisk. Men RP kommer att rŒka ut fšr ett flertal hŠndelser som sŠtter kŠppar i hjulen fšr dem. HŠndelser som kan verka slumpartade, men som i sjŠlva verket har ett intimt samband med bokfyndet. Syftet med dessa hŠndelser Šr dels att tillfšra Šventyret mer action och spŠnning, dels att ge RP en kŠnsla av att de har startat nŒgot som blivit mycket stšrre Šn de kunde fšrutse. Till sist Šr alla pŒ jakt efter dem: goblinerna, gatugŠnget, ett magiskt gille, den BlŒ Trollkarlen och kanske till och med kejsaren. Om de ska klara sig mŒste de balansera pŒ en knivsegg. Beroende pŒ var RP bor och hur de gŒr till vŠga Šr det svŒrt att fšrutse exakt nŠr dessa hŠndelser bšr intrŠffa. SL bšr lŠgga dem pŒ minnet och placera in dem vid lŠmpliga tillfŠllen. 1.RP blir angripna av gobliner, alternativt ser andra bli angripna. Detta kan samma dag som bokfyndet, efter nŒgra timmar, eller nŠsta dag. Se “Exalterade gobliner” nedan. 2.RP fŒr hšra att nŒgra personer tydligen Šr eftersškta av dunkla makter i stadens undre vŠrld. Signalementet stŠmmer in pŒ dem sjŠlva. Om de inte maskerar sig pŒ nŒgot vis, finns det risk fšr att de kan bli igenkŠnda. Se “Eftersškta!” nedan. 3.Som en fšljd av “efterlysningen” kan RP rŒka ut fšr ett bakhŒll frŒn gatugŠnget, tas tillfŒnga och bli av med anteckningsboken. Alternativt, om de inte lŒter sig luras i bakhŒll, kan det bli inbrott i deras bostad. 4.En dag hŠnder nŒgot mŠrkligt ute i staden. Alla klocktornen bšrjar slŒ, men pŒ fel tid och i otakt. Det blir ett šronbedšvande, okontrollerat ringande. Klockorna visar olika tid, nŒgot som aldrig intrŠffat fšrr. NŒgon minut senare sker en vŠldig explosion uppe i evighetspalatset. Man kan se en stor byggnad dŠr uppe (men naturligtvis inte hela det enorma kejserliga palatset) rasa samman, och det klocktorn som stŒr nŠrmast berget rasar ocksŒ. Stor fšrvirring uppstŒr i staden, och hundratals soldater ur Svarta Gardet stršmmar ut pŒ gatorna fšr att upprŠtthŒlla ordningen. En stund senare ser man Œtskilliga tidsmager som ršr sig pŒ stadens gator, pŒ vŠg till de olika klocktornen. NŒgon fšrklaring ges dock inte, och en mŠngd rykten sprids. Ingen tycks veta vad det var som hŠnde. Efter tre-fyra timmar gŒr alla klockorna rŠtt igen, och kejserliga tjŠnare Šr i fŠrd med att Œteruppfšra det rasade klocktornet. (Den hŠr hŠndelsen har ingen direkt effekt pŒ rollpersonerna just nu, men SL bšr beskriva den noga eftersom RP kommer att fŒ uppleva den senare, pŒ nŠrmare hŒll!) 5.En natt fŒr RP ett magiskt skrŠmselmeddelande. Detta bšr ske efter att RP har konsulterat en utomstŒende magiker och/eller besškt Arkitekternas Gille. Se “VŒlnad” nedan. Exalterade gobliner NŠr gatugŠnget tog ifrŒn RP allt de fick med sig upp ur gropen, var en tjuvaktig goblin framme och norpade Œt sig ett av fšremŒlen. Olyckligtvis Šr fšremŒlet mŠrkt med orden Loc Dawn, vilket en ovanligt intelligent goblin lyckas tyda. Goblinerna tror fšrst att det Šr legendens magiska Loc Dawn de funnit, och ett tusental gobliner samlas fšr att bevittna undret. Med “Loc Dawn” i spetsen gŒr de dŠrpŒ raskt till anfall mot huset Degas torn, švertygade om att de Šr ošvervinnerliga och att hŠmndens timme Šr slagen. Chronopia ska nu rensas frŒn slšddret, och Œter bli goblinernas egen Šrorika stad! Snart ligger mer Šn 100 gobliner dšda pŒ gatan, tillsammans med en del alver. De šverlevande goblinerna inser sakta att nŒgot Šr fel och att fšremŒlet de funnit inte kan vara Loc Dawn. Detta leder till stor fšrvirring, och redan samma kvŠll stršmmar hundratals gobliner till platsen fšr raset dŠr fšremŒlet fšrst kom i deras Šgo, fšr att sška efter en fšrklaring. NŠr de inte finner nŒgot vid raset, minns goblinerna att gatugŠnget lade beslag pŒ en massa saker. De gŒr till angrepp mot gatugŠngets hšgkvarter. DŠr kommer det till ny strid och flera dšdas pŒ bŒda sidor. Men gatugŠnget har redan sŒlt alla fšremŒlen, sŒ goblinerna finner inget. Goblinen som stal fšremŒlet minns att det fanns nŒgra leriga personer pŒ platsen ocksŒ. DŠrfšr Šr nu alla gobliner i staden pŒ jakt efter personer med lera pŒ klŠderna (ingen av dem Šr tillrŠckligt smart fšr att tŠnka pŒ att RP kan ha bytt klŠder). Dussintals personer som har leriga klŠder blir angripna. Horder av gobliner sliter av dem alla Šgodelar och lŠmnar dem nakna pŒ gatan. Skulle rollpersonerna inte ha bytt klŠder eller gjort sig ordentligt rena efter episoden med raset, kommer de att rŒka ut fšr just detta. Ett 40-tal fanatiska gobliner šverfaller dem, och lyckas RP inte vŠrja sig fŒr de kanske gŒ hem med rumpan bar. (Det har alltsŒ viss betydelse att SL hŒller reda pŒ hur mŒnga plagg rollpersonerna Šger och om de gšr nŒgot Œt leran…) Om rollpersonerna har bytt klŠder eller lyckats tvŠtta sina plagg rena, blir de i stŠllet vittnen till hur ett par leriga grovarbetare rŒkar ut fšr goblinernas angrepp, mitt pŒ gatan i fullt dagsljus. Folk som bott i staden lŠnge sŠger att de aldrig sett goblinerna sŒ djŠrva. Goblinerna tror att Loc-Dawn fanns i det Œttakantiga rummet, men att den nu stulits (igen!) och kan Œterfinnas nŒgonstans i staden. …verallt slinker gobliner runt och sšker. Rollpersonerna bšr kunna lista ut att “leriga personer” och “Loc Dawn” har nŒgot att gšra med dem sjŠlva och deras fynd i gropen. Eftersškta! NŠr gatugŠnget slickat sina sŒr efter striden mot goblinerna, inser de att det mŒste ha funnits nŒgot bland de fšremŒl de tog frŒn rollpersonerna, som Šr av stort vŠrde fšr goblinerna. De tar kontakt med sina hŠlare och undersšker alla fšremŒl som de kan fŒ tag pŒ, men utan att hitta nŒgot. Slutsatsen blir att rollpersonerna mŒste ha haft nŒgot som gŠnget missade. Kanske kommer nŒgon ihŒg den lilla anteckningsboken. Hur som helst, gatugŠnget bestŠmmer sig fšr att leta reda pŒ rollpersonerna och ta fšremŒlet, vad det Šn Šr. Eftersom det hittades pŒ deras omrŒde tillhšr det dem! Budskapet sprids i stadens undre vŠrld att en belšning Šr utfŠst. Ett signalement som stŠmmer rŠtt vŠl in pŒ rollpersonerna gŒr frŒn den ene till den andre. Detta bšr RP fŒ reda pŒ, lŠmpligtvis nŠr de befinner sig pŒ nŒgot vŠrdshus fšr att Šta eller dricka. Vid ett bord intill dem sitter nŒgra skumma personer, och en av RP hšr vad de talar om. “TvŒ hundra klingande silvermynt, sŠger jag. Det Šr som har nŒgot otalt med de dŠr figurerna och Šr mycket angelŠgna att fŒ tag pŒ dem. Allt du behšver gšra Šr att tipsa mig om du ser dem. Fšlj efter dem och se var de bor nŒnstans, och kom sen till mig. Hur de ser ut? Jo, det Šr… . RP kan nu vara smarta nog att fšrsška Šndra sitt utseende pŒ nŒgot vis, och kolla att de inte Šr skuggade innan de gŒr till sin bostad. Ett annat sŠtt att undvika uppmŠrksamhet Šr att inte ršra sig ute pŒ stan som en grupp, utan gŒ tvŒ och tvŒ. Risken fšr upptŠckt Šr 50% varje timme som man befinner sig ute bland folk, om man inte vidtar lŠmpliga ŒtgŠrder. Om nŒgon har fŠrdigheten SkŒdespeleri kan denne hjŠlpa de andra att maskera sig. Detta minskar risken till 25% per timme. Blir RP igenkŠnda har de fortfarande chans att mŠrka att de Šr skuggade (UpptŠcka fara) och undvika att gatugŠnget fŒr reda pŒ var de bor. Skulle nŒgon kŠnna igen RP och lyckas rapportera det till gatugŠnget, kommer RP att bli skuggade av gŠngmedlemmar, och om gŠnget fŒr ett tillfŠlle kommer de att fšrsška lura RP i ett bakhŒll. Detta Šr en episod som SL kan ta med i Šventyret om det behšvs fšr att fŒ mer strider och spŠnning. HŠndelsen kan hoppas šver om man sŒ šnskar, men bšr drabba rollpersonerna om de inte gšr nŒgot fšr att undvika att bli igenkŠnda. BakhŒll GatugŠngets bakhŒll bestŒr i en enkel list. NŠr rollpersonerna Šr pŒ vŠg nŒgonstans och passerar en sidogata ser de tvŒ sluskar som hŒller pŒ att fšrsška vŒldta en ung kvinna. Hon skriker, de fšrsšker slita av henne klŠderna. Om RP ger sig in i grŠnden fšr att ingripa, visar det sig att vŒldtŠkten bara Šr teater – de tre personerna Šr alla med i gatugŠnget och sŒ snart RP kommer fram till dem mšts de av dragna vapen. Samtidigt omringas de av ett lŠmpligt antal andra gŠngmedlemmar som kommer ut ur en nŠrbelŠgen portgŒng. TŠnk pŒ att gatugŠnget inte Šr ute efter att dšda RP utan bara vill ha det vŠrdefulla som de fick med sig upp ur gropen. Om de lyckas hitta RP och locka dem i bakhŒll, kommer de att fšrsška klŒ upp dem och ta alla deras vŠrdesaker inklusive anteckningsboken, om den finns hos dem. Blir det strid anvŠnder gatugŠnget i fšrsta hand icke-dšdliga vapen sŒsom kastnŠt, piskor och klubbor. Det Šr tŠnkbart att RP vinner striden. I sŒ fall kommer gatugŠnget att fŒ sŒ pass stor respekt fšr RP att de inte gšr nŒgra fler fšrsšk att komma Œt dem. Men de kommer att bevaka RP hela tiden. Skulle gatugŠnget vinna striden bšrjar de med att sška igenom RPs klŠder. Eftersom inget av uppenbart vŠrde finns hos RP kommer gatugŠnget att slŠpa ivŠg dem till sin lokal och fšrhšra dem utfšrligt. Det Šr tydligt att gŠnget tror att RP fick med sig nŒgot vŠrdefullt, kanske magiskt, ur det underjordiska rummet. RP kan nu fšrsška fly frŒn gatugŠnget. Om inte, kommer de att hŒllas fŒngna dŠr i tvŒ dygn, varefter de slŠpps. Hade de anteckningsboken med sig nŠr de švermannades, kommer gatugŠnget att lŠgga beslag pŒ den, men de begriper inte innehŒllet och det kommer att ta tid fšr dem att skaffa fram en tolkning. RP har fšrstŒs mšjlighet att fšrsška stjŠla tillbaka den… Magikern Mauretius En av de mŠktigaste magiker som levat var den legendariske Mauretius. Han bodde i Chronopia men fšrsvann plštsligt fšr 400 Œr sedan. Idag minns man honom som en mŠktig och fruktad magiker, sŒ mŠktig att folk i hans omgivning trodde att han tŠnkte utmana kejsaren om makten i staden. Men sŒ fšrsvann han, och det antogs allmŠnt att kejsaren tagit kŒl pŒ honom. Men sanningen Šr en annan. Mauretius var oerhšrt kraftfull men ganska tankspridd och inget vidare pŒ att rŠkna. Han fšrsškte i hemlighet att lŠra sig tidsmagi, och planerade att tillverka en magisk stav med vars hjŠlp han kunde styra tidens flšden. Fšr att gšra det var han tvungen att befinna sig pŒ exakt rŠtt plats i fšrhŒllande till tidsstršmmarna. Det tog honom flera Œrs experimenterande pŒ olika stŠllen i staden innan han fann den rŠtta platsen, under Evighetspalatset. Han blev tvungen att grŠva ett underjordiskt rum dŠr fšr att slutfšra sitt arbete. Men nŠr han utlšste sin magi visade det sig att han begŒtt ett allvarligt misstag. Han fastnade i ett tidslŒs dŠr hans kropp Šr i stasis (tiden stŒr stilla). Han befinner sig alltsŒ fortfarande i den underjordiska grotta dŠr experimentet skedde. Fšr att bryta magin behšvs ett ingripande utifrŒn, nŒgot som rubbar tidsstršmmarna. Trots sin kroppsliga fŒngenskap har Mauretius fortfarande viss mšjlighet att anvŠnda magi. Fšr att komma loss ur sin omšjliga situation sŠnde han en jordelementar med ett meddelande till dvŠrgarna. Han tŠnkte sig att de, som ŠndŒ arbetar under jorden, skulle ha stšrst chans att hitta honom och bryta magin. Meddelandet var avsett att locka dvŠrgar till den plats dŠr Mauretius finns, och pŒ sŒ vis lšsa hans dilemma. Det innehšll ett lšfte om belšning i guld och silver samt upplysning om det magiska ord som man mŒste sŠga fšr att befria Mauretius. Men Œter gjorde Mauretius en felberŠkning, meddelandet hamnade hos goblinerna i stŠllet fšr dvŠrgarna. Goblinerna var fšr korkade fšr att fšrstŒ hela innebšrden i meddelandet, och misstolkade det. I tron att en gud hade lovat dem evig lycka och rikedom, stršmmade de till Chronopia i tusental. De uppsnappade ordet “Loc-Dawn”, vilket egentligen Šr det magiska ord som bryter magin och befriar Mauretius. Boken PŒ fšrsŠttsbladet Šr boken mŠrkt “Jag tillhšr Mauretius. Hittelšn till den som Œterfšr mig till Šgaren. HŠmnd och dšd Œt den som stjŠl.” Det mesta av innehŒllet Šr skrivet pŒ nŒgot hemlighetsfullt sprŒk. Varje RP med nŒgon erfarenhet av magi ser att det Šr magisk kod. Fšr att lŠsa boken kan RP ta hjŠlp av en utomstŒende trollkarl med sŠrskilda kunskaper om magiska koder. En sŒdan kan de hitta hos GaldermŠstarnas Orden eller nŒgot annat magiskt gille. Med sŒdan hjŠlp fŒr man veta allt i tabellen nedan, mot en avgift. Fšrsšker en magiskt kunnig rollperson sjŠlv tolka innehŒllet slŒr du ett fŠrdighetsslag fšr Kunskap om magi. Man fŒr veta allt i tabellen nedan som har hšgre nummer Šn resultatet. 19. Mauretius var en mŠktig magiker som levde i Chronopia fšr ungefŠr 400 Œr sedan. 18. Mauretius fšrsvann plštsligt och ofšrklarligt. Hans kropp har aldrig Œterfunnits, ej heller minsta rest av hans Šgodelar eller magiska bšcker. 17. Bokens fšrsta del beskriver olika experiment med tidsmagi. (Eftersom de enda tidsmagerna i Chronopia Šr kejsarens, finns det ingen magiker tillgŠnglig som kan tyda anteckningarna exakt.) 15. Boken skulle antagligen vara vŠrd en del pengar om man fšrsškte sŠlja den till kejsaren, men det Šr ocksŒ mycket riskabelt. (Kejsaren gillar inte att tidsmagi utšvas utanfšr hans kontroll, risken Šr att RP kan bli utsatta fšr ett obehagligt fšrhšr…) 14. Bokens andra del beskriver geografiska och magiska berŠkningar som identifierar sex platser i Chronopia. Alla berŠkningarna utom den allra sista Šr šverkorsade. 13. BerŠkningarna i bokens andra del syftar till att finna en plats dŠr tidsstršmmarna har ett bestŠmt mšnster. 12. NŒgra sidor i boken ser ut som en kassabok med kolumner fšr silver- och guldmynt. MŠngderna vŠxlar mellan 20.000 och 50.000. Eventuellt kan det vara en fšrteckning šver hur mycket Mauretius hade i sin kassa. 11. Den sista av de šverkorsade berŠkningarna beskriver exakt den plats dŠr rollpersonerna hittade boken. 9. De tidsmagiska anteckningarna Šr inte skrivna av en riktig tidsmager, utan antagligen av en elementarmagiker som fšrsškt lŠra sig tidsmagi pŒ egen hand. 8. Den allra sista berŠkningen (den enda som inte Šr šverkorsad) verkar beskriva en plats i Chronopia, nŒgonstans vid Tempelbackarna. 6. Platsen vid Tempelbackarna (i den sista berŠkningen) verkar ligga under markytan, nŒgonstans nedanfšr Evighetspalatset. Det talas om en port “rakt mot havet” och en likbent triangel med spetsar i nordvŠstra hšrnet av Swamuras tempel och sydvŠstra hšrnet av Planoigon-templet. 5. Ordet “Loc- Dawn” fšrekommer pŒ en sida. 4. Vid det fšrsta experimentet finns en anteckning om att “anvŠnda Gnomen fšr att grŠva tunnlar och rum i jorden”. 3. Vid experiment nummer tvŒ finns en anteckning “Skšld mot kejsaren och hans snokande hejdukar”. 2. Bokens fšrfattare verkar ha varit mycket tankspridd. En del kommentarer fšrefaller helt ovidkommande, t.ex. “Kokt Šgg med pepparsŒs, lšrdag klockan 2” eller “Bada valpen pŒ mŒndag”. 1. Magin i boken verkar syfta till att framstŠlla en magisk stav av fšrgyllt silver, med vilkens hjŠlp man kan fŠrdas genom tiden och Šndra tidens hastighet i fšrhŒllande till sig sjŠlv. Den plats som nŠmns under punkterna 8 och 6 ovan Šr fšrstŒs intressant. Den som lyckas fŒ informationen i bŒda punkterna kan Šven tolka anvisningarna. De omtalar en liksidig triangel och anger hšrnen pŒ tvŒ tempel som tvŒ av triangelns spetsar. DŠremot beskrivs inte triangelns tredje udd. Se vidare “Platsen” nedan. RP kan sška kontakt med en utomstŒende trollkarl fšr att fŒ hjŠlp att tolka boken. Oavsett vilket magiskt gille de vŠnder sig till hamnar de hos Zarthon. Han Šr inte nŒgon sŠrskilt mŠktig magiker, men gammal och mycket lŠrd. Zarthon Trollkarlen Zarthon har sin verkstad i gillets hus, och rollpersonerna blir visade in till honom dŠr. Rummet Šr inrett pŒ typiskt trollkarlsvis, fullt av gamla bšcker, besynnerligt formade glaskŠrl och andra mŠrkliga fšremŒl. Vid en bŠnk stŒr Zarthon ifšrd ett blŒtt fšrklŠde och Šr strŠngt upptagen med att blanda nŒgon dekokt. NŠr RP kommer in ropar Zarthon Œt dem att vŠnta en stund och inte stšra honom. Det tar ca 10 minuter innan han Šr redo att tala med dem. Kostnaden fšr Zarthons tjŠnster beror pŒ hur RP behandlar honom. Zarthon Šr en gammaldags trollkarl som fšrvŠntar sig respekt och artighet frŒn unga spolingar. UtgŒ frŒn en normal kostnad pŒ 100 SM och justera ±50 SM beroende pŒ hur det hela utvecklar sig. €r RP riktigt otrevliga kan det hŠnda att Zarthon avfŠrdar dem med pŒstŒendet att boken Šr vŠrdelšs och bara innehŒller enkla besvŠrjelser som alla trollkarlar fŒr lŠra sig nŠr de Šr lŠrlingar. Skšter sig RP kan Zarthon ge dem alla de informationer som finns i beskrivningen av boken (se ovan), inklusive triangelns tvŒ angivna hšrn. Medan han tolkar boken gŒr det dock upp fšr honom att boken har nŒgot att gšra med Mauretius och dŠrfšr blir han snart lite frŒgvis. Han vill veta vilka RP Šr, varifrŒn de fŒtt boken, var de bor, vem de arbetar Œt, osv. Vidare kommer han att berŠtta om saken fšr sitt gille. NŠr de skiljs Œt varnar han RP: “Om jag vore ni skulle jag inte ršra mer i det hŠr. Mauretius var en farlig herre, och det sŠgs att kejsaren tog kŒl pŒ honom till sist. Fšrsšker ni rota i den historien kan det hŠnda att ni fŒr Svarta Gardet efter er, eller nŒgot vŠrre!” Det magiska gillet Gillets mŠstare inser genast vilka faror det skulle medfšra om nŒgon fick tag pŒ Mauretius magiska skatter. Han samlar sitt RŒd och man planlŠgger hur man ska skydda sig. Beslutet blir att man ska skrŠmma rollpersonerna att inte leta efter Mauretius grav. Det blir Zarthon som fŒr i uppdrag att ombesšrja detta. Han gšr det tillsammans med flera andra erfarna magiker. VŒlnad Natten efter att RP besškt Zarthon kommer han att fšrsška skrŠmma dem genom att sŠnda en magisk uppenbarelse till dem. Det gŒr till sŒ hŠr: De fyra magikerna har tagit reda pŒ var RP bor, och smyger sig dit pŒ natten. En av dem (mentalist) anvŠnder Syn (sid 128) fšr att kolla vad som hŠnder i RPs rum. Sedan teleporterar han de tre andra in i RPs sovrum (Teleportera, sid 129). Om RP hŒller vakt, fšrsšker de ta kontroll šver vakten (Kontrollera person, sid 129). Efter snabba fšrberedelser gšmmer sig magikerna i ett mšrkt hšrn och startar sin magiska show. NŒgon gŒng under natten vaknar rollpersonerna och kŠnner en intensiv kšld. Det Šr en Glacial (sid 125 i grundreglerna) som frammanats av gillesmagikerna. En blŒskimrande skepnad tonar fram och antar formen av en gammal man med glšdande blick, klŠdd i vid mantel. Den som fšrsšker resa sig upptŠcker att han Šr insnŠrjd i …rtrankor (sid 118). RP hšr inom sig en fruktansvŠrd ršst (Telepati, sid 129) som sŠger: “Ve den som skŠndar min grav. Ve den som sšker mina skatter. SvŒra lidanden ska drabba er om ni fortsŠtter.” Skepnaden fšrsvinner i tomma intet. NŠr “showen” Šr slut lŠgger magikerna Mšrker (sid 121) och Tystnad (ej i grundreglerna), varefter de avlŠgsnar sig. Om de behšvs kan de fšrstŒs ocksŒ …ppna lŒs. Hela historien sker sŒ snabbt att RP antagligen inte hinner trassla sig loss ur šrtrankorna. PŒ morgonen efterŒt upptŠcker rollpersonerna att flera fšremŒl i rummet har Šndrat form (FšrŠndra, sid 119 och Permanens, finns ej i grundreglerna). En stol har fŒtt sitsen tŠckt av vassa spetsar. Mattan pŒ golvet visar ett enormt, stirrande šga omgivet av eldsflammor. Handfatet Šr fšrvandlat till ett grinande rovdjursgap, fullt av sylvassa tŠnder. VŠrdshusvŠrden Šr inte glad Œt vad som hŠnt med inredningen! BlŒ Trollkarlen Till rŒga pŒ allt finns en fšrrŠdare i GillesmŠstarens RŒd, som spionerar Œt den BlŒ Trollkarlen. Snart fŒr denne reda pŒ saken. Han kŠnner fšrstŒs till Mauretius, och anar att om man hittar hans grav eller arbetsrum, kan dŠr finnas magiska bšcker och fšremŒl. Han bedriver dŠrfšr ett eget spioneri mot rollpersonerna och bevakar dem. Till detta ŠndamŒl anvŠnder han sina trogna hantlangare Fratiger och Prattel. (HyrsvŠrd: sid 150 i grundreglerna) Hans plan Šr att lŒta RP gšra jobbet och hitta skatten, varefter han sjŠlv tŠnker lŠgga beslag pŒ den. RPs mŒl blir fšrstŒs att hitta den plats som nŠmns i anteckningsboken – den liksidiga triangelns tredje udd – och se vad som finns dŠr. Det normala Šr att gŒ till Arkitekternas Gille och be att fŒ titta pŒ gamla kartor šver Tempelbackarna. Varje RP som har nŒgon av fŠrdigheterna KulturkŠnnedom: Chronopia eller Administration eller Maktens Korridorer, vet att det Šr hos arkitekterna man hittar kartor šver staden. Om RP sjŠlva lyckats lŠsa boken, och fšrsšker hitta platsen utan att anlita Arkitekternas gille, fŒr de snart problem. De mŒste gŒ till Tempelbackarna, hitta byggnaderna och med hjŠlp av linor mŠta upp en liksidig triangel med 400 meters sida, vid vars tredje spets ingŒngen Šr belŠgen. Det Šr knappast lŠtt eftersom andra hus har byggts sedan Mauretius tid (de stŒr i vŠgen) och omgivningen blir nyfiken nŠr RP bšrjar springa omkring med lŒnga linor… En del ŒskŒdare vill ge goda rŒd, andra vill veta vad RP hŒller pŒ med, folk stŒr i vŠgen, nŒgon skŠr av linan och fšrsšker stjŠla den. Genom att gŒ till Arkitekternas Gille och berŠkna platsens belŠgenhet med hjŠlp av en bra karta, kan RP bespara sig ett par dagars arbete. Arkitekternas Gille Det Šr lŠtt att hitta till Arkitekternas Gille. Det ligger i ett vrŠkigt hus vid Murargatan, fasaden Šr imponerande med pelare och reliefer som fšrestŠller beršmda arkitekter och symboler fšr byggnadsverksamet – murslevar, passare, vinkelhakar, vattenpass och sŒnt. Innanfšr den stora porten sitter en vakt som visar RP till arkivet, tredje dšrren till hšger. Dšrren Šr lŒst, och man mŒste knacka pŒ. NŠstan genast šppnas den och en liten flintskallig man med tunga šgonlock tittar ut och undrar vad RP vill. Den lille mannen Šr šverarkivarien Vidar Rensko. NŠr rollpersonerna fšrklarar sitt Šrende slŠpper han in dem, men Šr noga med att ta alla i hand. Den RP som har hšgst UPP lŠgger mŠrke till att Vidar gšr nŒgot konstigt med fingrarna nŠr man skakar hand med honom, han klŠmmer tre gŒnger med pekfingret pŒ den andres handled. FrŒgar man honom om detta verkar han dock inte veta vad man menar. Om rollpersonen dŠremot gšr likadant tillbaka, ler Vidar vŠnskapligt och bugar sig. Inne i arkivet stŒr rader av bokhyllor med stora volymer och hoprullade kartor. Om den mŠrkliga handskakningen besvarades enligt ovan, Šr Vidar mycket tjŠnstvillig och tar genast fram de šnskade kartorna šver Tempelbackarna. Om inte, Šr han dŠremot avvisande och sŠger sig inte ha tid att springa omkring och leta efter kartor. SŠrskilt inte med tanke pŒ hur dŒligt betalt han har… Vinken om att mutor šnskas Šr ganska tydlig. Vidar sŠger inte sjŠlv nŒgon summa, men ger man honom 50 SM blir han fullt tillfreds. FŒr han mindre Šn 50 SM mŒste nŒgon lyckas med fŠrdigheten Muta fšr att han ska ta fram kartorna. €r RP alldeles fšr snŒla kšr Vidar ut dem. Att angripa Vidar Šr oklokt. Vid vŠggen sitter en lina som han kan dra i. Gšr han det fŠlls ett kraftigt galler ned mellan hans skrivbord och arkivet, och en klocka ringer. Husets vakter stršmmar till. Gallret kan inte šppnas inifrŒn det hŠr rummet, enda vŠgen ut Šr samma vŠg man kom in. Vidar Renfot Šr ocksŒ en utvŠg fšr SL om RP inte anvŠnder nŒgon utomstŒende magiker fšr att tolka boken. I sŒ fall Šr det Vidar som blir orsak till att det magiska gillet fŒr veta om saken. Vidar Šr nŠmligen medlem i ett hemligt sŠllskap som sysslar med vŠlgšrenhet och šmsesidigt beskydd. Ibland fšrsšker de ocksŒ pŒverka stadens politik pŒ hemliga sŠtt. De flesta av sŠllskapets medlemmar hšr hemma i byggnads- och fastighetsbranschen, men nŒgra Šr magiker. Vidar trŠffar en av dem samma kvŠll och berŠttar om RPs intresse fšr tempelbackarna och allt annat han lyckats dra ur dem. Det hemliga sŠllskapet (som kallar sig Den Fyrfaldiga Dygdens Bršder) har stora ekonomiska resurser, men dess existens Šr okŠnd fšr alla utomstŒende. Handskakningen Šr en av deras hemliga igenkŠnningssignaler. NŠr RP knackade pŒ dšrren (som hŒlls lŒst just fšr att man ska bli tvungen att knacka) rŒkade de av en hŠndelse anvŠnda DFDBs hemliga knackning, det var dŠrfšr Vidar pršvade med handskakningen. Om den besvarades blev Vidar nŠstan sŠker om att den svarande rollpersonen tillhšr nŒgon avdelning av DFDB. DFDB Šr inte sŠrskilt intresserade av magiska skatter, men desto mer av att skaffa fram pengar till vŠlgšrenhet. Vidar Renfot lŒtsas ta mutor, men inte fšr egen del utan till Bršdraskapets kassa. Med ytterst hemliga metoder ges anonyma bidrag frŒn denna kassa till Šnkor, faderlšsa och andra fattiga. Skulle Bršdraskapet fŒ mšjlighet att lŠgga beslag pŒ Mauretius skatter, kommer de att gšra det. Platsen I arkitekternas arkiv finns flera bra kartor i stor skala, och har man vŠl fŒtt klart fšr sig att det gŠller att rita en liksidig triangel frŒn hšrnen pŒ tvŒ tempel, Šr det sedan bara att lista ut Œt vilket hŒll triangeln ska ritas. Drar man den tredje spetsen ned mot havet, hamnar spetsen mitt pŒ en gata mellan tvŒ tempel. Drar man den upp mot Evighetspalatset hamnar den nŒgonstans pŒ den branta bergssidan, alldeles invid det šversta av de tempel som ligger dŠr. Det Šr den senare riktningen som Šr den rŠtta. Triangeln visar pŒ Mauretius kammare, som ligger under jorden ett tiotal meter inne i bergssidan. IngŒngen finns i en trŠdgŒrd vid ett tempel som tillhšr Ordo Lex Benefax, en religion vars anhŠngare Šr ganska fŒ men mycket hŠngivna. NŠr man fŒtt veta det Šr det inte bara att gŒ dit och grŠva. Ordo Lex Benefax OLB Šr en religion som lŠr att det finns en gudomlig ordning i vŠrlden, och att alla tŠnkande varelser Šr skyldiga att sška efter denna ordning och fšlja den. Endast den som lyckas fšlja den Gudomliga Lagen Šr rŠttfŠrdig, och vinner gudarnas gunst. Emellertid Šr den gudomliga ordningen inte tillgŠnglig fšr det normala fšrnuftet, utan meddelas frŒn gudarna endast genom deras profeter. Den Gudomliga Lagen finns nedtecknad i en tjock bok som fšrvaras inne i templet. DŠr finner man exakta fšreskrifter om allting som ršr livet: vilka klŠder man ska bŠra, vilken mat man fŒr Šta och vad man ska gšra i varje situation. Medlemmarnas liv Šr alltsŒ inrutat i varje detalj, och mŒnga av deras regler ter sig rŠtt obegripliga fšr utomstŒende. Oavsett om rollpersonerna tar kontakt med templet fšrst, eller smyger sig dit nŒgon kvŠll och bšrjar grŠva, kommer de att trŠffa den skriftlŠrde Aaraln (LŠrd man, sid 23 i grundreglerna). Denne har inte sjŠlv nŒgot intresse av underjordiska skatter; han Šgnar all sin tid Œt att studera den Gudomliga Lagen. Han har heller inget emot att RP mot en mindre gŒva till templet fŒr grŠva ett hŒl i ett hšrn av trŠdgŒrden. Men han krŠver att rollpersonerna ska fšlja alla fšreskrifter i Lagen sŒ lŠnge de Šr pŒ templets omrŒde, och han posterar ut tvŒ tempeltjŠnare som švervakar att ingen syndar. Bland bestŠmmelserna i Ordo Lex Benefax gudomliga lag finns t.ex. fšljande: 1.Tulpaner Šr heliga och fŒr inte plockas eller trampas pŒ. (TrŠdgŒrden Šr full av dem…) 2.Man mŒste tvŠtta hŠnderna innan man gšr nŒgonting nytt. Bšrjar man t.ex. grŠva efter att ha tittat pŒ en karta, krŠvs en handtvagning. Ska man titta pŒ kartan igen mŒste man fšrst tvŠtta hŠnderna, osv. (Templets fšrrŒd av handdukar Šr imponerande och tvŠttstugan Šr gigantisk!) 3.Alla klŠder mŒste vara av ull eller lŠder frŒn svin eller nšt, och alla huvudbonader Šr fšrbjudna. (PlŒtrustningar eller ringbrynjor fŒr dŠrfšr inte bŠras, fšrstŒs.) Mot en mindre avgift fŒr RP hyra lŠmpliga klŠder frŒn templet. 4.All kontakt med fšremŒl tillverkade av hŠsthud eller tagel Šr strŠngt fšrbjuden; hŠsten Šr ett heligt djur. LŠderfšremŒl inspekteras noga fšr att kolla att inget lŠder kommer frŒn hŠst.

Try not to cry for me, it should be easy, but everyone’s different. We’ve spent time on this rock hoping to turn into a flock of eagles and be able to fly away. A shame we can’t blame the person responsible for this craziness cause we don’t know who it is. Is it Jesus, Buddha, Ghandi, science? My instincts say…actually my instincts are nonexistent. Distant thoughts of what is supposed to be done are there, but they’re so cloudy I don’t even recognize their presence. My essence is that of a peasant trying to please his king but never succeeding in his quest. The best he can do is act like a fool and hope his master will approve. Isn’t that what we all do? Prove me wrong by the time the gong sounds and maybe then will you have found that you have achieved the impossible in record time. Kind man, don’t walk away, please stay. Play with us in our jungle of despair, it’s really quite fun in here, we promise. Cares just flush down the toilet along with all the other garbage my body carries. Share my misery. What misery? You know, the misery of contemptment. Ah, that misery. It fizzled out years ago, you’re living in the past. My heart had a cast, but I sliced it off in rage, that bastard keeps me alive all the time without asking me. Basking in it’s glory of life, well give me the courage and a knife and I’ll take you right out of my chest with no regret. Everyone is betting against me, but they don’t realize God sent me and I’m his son. But she says she’s his daughter and he says he’s also his son. We’re all the same? What a confusing game. When I came here I hadn’t met fear yet, it turned out to be a horrible, yet life saving emotion. When there was great commotion fear slowed everything down into slow motion so that I could savor the painful moments. Thank you fear. If you were an animate object I would dissect you and find out what makes you work. Fear does have it’s perks…no, actually it doesn’t. My cousin is my family, but I see fear more than him, it’s not fair. But I really don’t care any more, my chores have gotten so much more repetitive and I’ve lost interest, but still must feign. We’re changing all the time, oh sublime higher power can you make me into a flower? So that the rains can shower upon me and make me grow until a little kid picks me in the middle of his little league baseball game and is stricken from playing because he was gazing at my beauty. Moody people never did it for me, they just never seemed to glitter for me. They’re faces just kind of popped up in the litter for me. They were always a little too bitter towards me. They made a sinner of me, thanks! Now I can laugh all the way to the bank, or maybe it’s to hell, either way someday I’ll be off this rotting rock we call ‘home.’ When I get off I have a bone to pick with the creator, the maker of the madness, the baker of the badness, the forsaker of sadness, the shaker from which the pain sprinkles. Sometimes I think God is taking a tinkle on my head and laughing because I’m too naive to figure out what’s happening. The lasting impression of depression is molded into my soul never allowing me to gain control again. As my mind bends and expends energy to rationalize God laughs and I cry. It’s sort of a love/hate relationship. It’s wonderful actually, he’ll challenge me and I’ll lose my balance and fall. I’ll call his name when bad happens and praise myself when good happens. Somedays the sky blackens and a voice speaks out, ‘you suck!’ The sky turns blue and I turn green wanting to be that voice or at least have the choice to listen or not. The plot thickens as every second passes gas and makes the room unbearable, but I’m locked in and I injected the key into my brain but I can’t find it any more. I knew being responsible would come in handy one day, so why didn’t I learn how. Now I have to endure everything unpure. There is no known cure, the affliction is too obscure and everyone is just lured in like lost puppy dogs. They can’t understand my language so I’m trapped like a fat rabbit in his smaller brother’s door. The more I try to escape the less likely it becomes. Being shun from every direction, not to mention the immense pressure in this spot, and not to complain, but it’s kind of hot in here. Do you think you could turn on the air? I’m bare and brittle, and this fiddle does me no good without a little practice, but I’ll just smash it anyway. So, within the next few days please lift this haze from here, it’s kind of weird, and to tell the truth I’m a little bit scared. I’ve shared so much of myself that I only have a tiny portion left for me and I’ll defend that like it was my only source of nutrition because it is. ‘Back off, you can’t have it!’ I scream as I jam it down someone else’s throat and boast in my intelligence which turned out to be arrogance which morphed into ignorance. At second glance, I never even had a chance to prance in a flower field because no one would yield to let me in. I’ve been waiting for my moment to shine, but it’s too late cause now I’m blind from watching others. Covered in welts my nose starts to swell from all the bullcrap that I’ve smelt since my first interaction with a female. I run to the boat that’s docked right next to my mind and start to sail down my spine when I realize it’s nowhere to be found. I guess I’ll just sit here and drown, it’s better than being discovered covered in fear, blood and rejection across the midsection and upper torso. For so long, maybe twenty-five seconds, I could hear birds chirping and my ex- girlfriends slurping on that other guy. Oh my, that was uncalled for Lord. When I said I was bored I didn’t mean turn them into whores. The sounds push my foot to the floor and my heartbeat accelerates, I have an old soul so it can only hit about eighty-eight before I crash into fate and debate the meaning of my life until my life is just another exhausted topic. Walking back on the darkened pebble road I noticed a larger rock and mocked it cause it was so out of place. My face was glowing in laughter when suddenly I realized that the point is void once you turn thirteen. That sure was mean of all those people to keep me here that long. I have no choice now but to go on ahead down this pebbled road and feel sympathy for those large rocks because on a bigger road with bigger pebbles I’m the bigger rock and someone is mocking me every seven minutes until the day I’m kicked off the road and into seclusion, which I believe is called ‘Heaven.’

Maybe I need a chance to disassociate from life. A rife set of circumstances might make things right. I fight to ostracize slight and require respect from those who loathe me. Clothing seems pointless when you wander around lonely focusing solely on the cement giants that surround you. Their eyes beating down on you, their faces frowning upon you, you finally realize that you are a failure. I failed? The inconceivable has just been conceived. Disbelief freely dances around my tattered head and spins so fast that my vision becomes obsolete. Concrete devils revel in their own self-assurance. Pure amazement and awe in spite of the actions that have just taken place. I make my way to the cell in which I’ll stay for another few years and maybe my tears will dry by the time I awake. For my own sake I’ll bake my brain with pain until I become utterly insane and make the same mistakes I made in years prior, no shame. I came into this world and I can take myself out without a shadow of a doubt. Laughing hysterically sometimes I find I release demons, but scurry to catch them and make sure I will feel depressed once again. That’s what I live for. My core is surrounded by black dust and must I tell you again that I am not a man, but a spirit? Share it with your friends so I don’t have to repeat it again. I mend friendships then destroy them. Employ them and fire them. Entice them and leave them chasing dangling carrots for hours and then laugh and tell them to hit the showers. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sorrow is an emotion that I have felt often and often dismissed it as quickly as it came. Though pain sometimes brought it back to stay for a day or two longer, but I would eventually conquer and move on. I am fond of disillusion though, it’s some form of confusion, but once fused with a conclusion it becomes fact, isn’t that grand? I can smell fear like a maggot on a corpse that’s been dead since Monday, I bet on Sunday they didn’t know where their next meal would come from. It’s fun to take shots at the weaker species like me as we’ve all learned. Sometimes it burns, but most times it washes off with a wet rag and some soap. It makes it easier to cope when I mope around and feel down, but sometimes if I smile I might be labeled as ‘in denial,’ whatever denial means. Everyone’s a fiend in some way, some are just fiends in dumb ways, mundane ways, crazy ways. Do you understand what I’m saying? Stop playing with your food, you can’t acquire knowledge without the information available to you. So don’t throw it on the floor for the dog to eat or you will get beat with the meat you abandoned, figuratively speaking of course. Of course! I haven’t lost my mind, I just haven’t found it yet, then I hope to lose it quickly like the rest of you misty-eyed souls waiting in your dresser drawer for someone to pick you out and put you on. I’ve longed for a return to my first home, the womb. The room was so cozy and warm and I didn’t breathe air, but ingested liquid. I was a fish with no memory beyond four seconds. Ignorance was blissful then. Now I’m unjustly put into a category called ‘men.’ I hate being criticized for being man, selfish creatures who consistently offend and cause harm. I had to adapt and change with the environment. I had to incorporate anger into my everyday life to survive. Crying was a sign of weakness in this world, you might be considered a girl. Girls whirled their hair and cared for their body as well as a deranged ape would in a room full of deadly chemicals. Intriguing to some, but to me was a bore. I didn’t want to see any more of this madness on my own planet. Damnit, when will the asteroid crash it and mash it to bits in one furious hit? I guess we’ll get what we get, or is it what we give? Doesn’t matter really, does it? Ah, fudge it, for lack of profanity. Can it be that we are to be what we aren’t to be and to see what we ought to see and be taught by the teachers inside of the trees? Teachers inside of the trees? Please. Be at ease with my uneasiness, I’m a bit nervous and erratic. I’ve just about had it with these addicts that panic when their life force is twenty seconds late. Geez guys, fate will have it whatever way fate wants it. Deal with it. Actually, have a meal with it. Sit down to a romantic seaside dinner with destiny and find out what the best in me is bound to be. I mean feel with it. Take a long walk along the pier with fear and peer into it’s eyes and find out how much I truly despise it and it might just take the hint and hit the road. Oh no, how would I react if fear were to turn it’s back and me and tell me, ‘the lack of me in your life has made me feel unappreciated,’ as it packs it’s bags while it’s eyes sag from the waterfalls that poured their only an hour earlier. Surely I can make it up, break it up and smoke it maybe. Toke it, fill my body with fear once again, but maybe I can’t because I’m part of ‘men.’ Send me something out here, a life jacket or raft because I can’t seem to grasp onto any respect out here on this rocky turf where the surf reaches astronomical size and girth. When the helicopter gets here, you can go first.

Once upon a real time, man walked in Xanadu.
Xanadu, a place of peace and harmony.
But man needed more than doves, he needed love.
Man and woman where sent to walk the Earth,
only to pursue forbidden Xanadu.
Zeus set the plan in motion.
He locked all the gates, doors, and docks.
For he knew mortal man would not let it be.
Man set forth on a quest he could one day meet.
Zeus called the Gods,
to protect the entrances man would find.
Thor with his thunder and Triton with his seas.
Would block the entrances to you and me.
The God of Dreams, Morpheus would not let it be.
He would not help Zeus discourage me.
So he set forth to help man,
on his quest of the forbidden Xanadu.
At night, he keeps Xanadu alive in the hearts of men.
He gives us plan after plan to reach that land.
We sail on ships that end up in the deep.
We brave the storms that block our pass through mountain steep.
We tell the storms that we will pass over the peaks.
With Morpheus in our dreams and love in our heart,
one day we will not walk in the dark.
Xanadu a place, deep in our heart.

It is at this point that blogger lost 5 months of content on me. It was at this point that I began hosting my own blog files. This is why I have no loyalty to blogger, and why I think livejournal kicks much butt…

In the beginning there was the One, the One who will be in the end.

The Earth and heavens were not, and day and night were not, but the One was and will be. Light

But Ialdabaoth the blind Demiurge broke free, proclaiming the word “I am”. And thus disunity was created.

Ialdabaoth named things, and they were separated from the One. Thus he created the world.

First Ialdabaoth proclaimed “Let there be Saturn, the first and greatest of the Aeons!”. And the Lord of Time was created, and Ialdabaoth saw that past was separated from future.

Then Ialdabaoth proclaimed “Let there be Jupiter, the Aeon of Separation!”. And the Lord of Space was created,
and Ialdabaoth saw that above was separated from below.

Then Ialdabaoth proclaimed “Let there be Mars, the Aeon of Destruction!”. And the Lord of Dust was created,
and Ialdabaoth saw that decay and imperfection ruled everything.

Then Ialdabaoth proclaimed “Let there be Mercury, the Aeon of Consciousness!”. And the Lord of the Mind was
created, and Ialdabaoth saw that all things were distinguished and named.

Then Ialdabaoth proclaimed “Let there be the Moon, the Aeon of Spirit!”. And the Queen of the Night was
created, and Ialdabaoth saw that the worlds were separated by the abyss of night.

Then Ialdabaoth proclaimed “Let there be Venus, the Aeon of Life!”. And the Lady of Plants and Beasts was
created, and Ialdabaoth saw that all life grew, survived and died in endless cycles.

Then Ialdabaoth proclaimed “Let there be the Earth, the Aeon of Matter!”. And Gaea, known as the Kingdom,
was created. And Ialdabaoth saw that the fragments of the One was trapped within shells of matter and movement, ruled by the urges of Venus, imprisoned by the ring-pass-nots of the Moon, the names of Mercury, the strife of Mars, the labyrinths of Jupiter and the eternities of Saturn. And he proclaimed: “Hereafter disunity will rule to the end of time!”

But then he heard the voice of Sofia, the wisdom of the One imprisoned within the fragments: “Thou hast
spoken the truth, O Lord of Dispersion. Disunity will rule to the end of time, but time itself will once die. One day the aeons themselves will die, and then unity will be restored”. And then the One created the King of the Aeons, the Lord of the Sun, to guide the fragments towards
unity.

One day the Daughter will marry and unite with the shining King, and this will begin the great
Reconciliation. The One will gather together and the universe will be reunited.

In the beginning there was the One, the One who will be in the end.

This is a list of 58 common indicators shared by most UFO abductees. It is based on known research on the subject and on personal findings. It has been compiled to help you determine if you are an abductee. Of course there may be other explanations for these occurrences and this is in no way an absolute means of knowing if you are an abductee. If you or someone you know does fit many of these traits listed here, PLEASE seek the help of a qualified researcher of therapist. This list is not in any particular order.

Ask yourself if you . . .

1. Have had unexplainable missing or lost time of one hour or more.

2. Have been paralyzed in bed with a being in your room.
3. Have unusual scars or marks with no possible explanation on how you received them (small scoop indentation, straight line scar, triangular marks, scars in roof of mouth, in nose, behind or in ears, etc.)
4. Have seen balls of light or flashes of light in your home or other locations
5. Have a memory of flying through the air which could not be a dream, or many dreams involving flying.
6. Have a strong “marker memory” that will not go away (i.e.: an alien face, an examination, a needle, a table, a strange skinny baby, etc.)
7. Have seen beams of light outside your home, or come into your room through a window.
8. Have had many dreams of UFOs, beams of light, or alien beings.
9. Have had a shocking UFO sighting or multiple sightings in your life.
10. Have a cosmic awareness, an interest in ecology, environment, vegetarianism, or are very socially conscious.
11. Have a strong sense of having a mission or important task to perform, sometime, without knowing where this compulsion is coming from.
12. Have a secret feeling that you are “special” or “chosen,” somehow.
13. Have had unexplainable events occur in your life, and felt strangely anxious afterwards.
14. Have had several strange psychic experiences – such as knowing that something is going to happen before it happens.
15. For women only: Have had false pregnancy or missing fetus. (pregnant, and then not)
16. Have awoken in another place than where you went to sleep, or don’t remember ever going to sleep. (i.e. waking up with your head at the foot of your bed, or in your car)
17. Have had a dream of eyes such as animal eyes (like an owl or deer), or remember seeing an animal looking in at you. Also if you have a fear of eyes.
18. Have awoken in the middle of the night startled.
19. Have strong reaction to cover of Communion or pictures of aliens. Either an aversion to or being drawn to.
20. Have inexplicably strong fears or phobias. (i.e. heights, snakes, spiders, large insects, certain sounds, bright lights, your personal security or being alone).
21. Have experienced self-esteem problem much of your life.
22. Have seen someone with you become paralyzed, motionless, or frozen in time, especially someone you sleep with.
23. Have a memory of having a special place with spiritual significance, when you were a youngster.
24. Have had someone in your life who claims to have witnessed a ship or alien near you or has witnessed you having been missing.
25. Have had, at any time, blood or strangel stain on sheet or pillow, with no explanation of how it got there.
26. Have an interest in the subject of UFO sightings or aliens, perhaps compelled to read about it a lot.
27. Have an extreme aversion towards the subject of UFO’s or aliens – don’t want to talk about it.
28. Have been suddenly compelled to drive or walk to an out of the way or unknown area.
29. Have the feeling of being watched much of the time, especially at night.
30. Have had dreams of passing through a closed window or solid wall.
31. Have seen a strange fog or haze that should not be there.
32. Have heard strange humming or pulsing sounds, and you could not identify the source.
33. Have had unusual nose bleeds at any time in your life. Or have awoken with a nose bleed.
34. Have awoken with soreness in your genitals which can not be explained.
35. Have had back or neck problems, T-3 vertebrae out often, or awoken with an unusual stiffness in any part of the body.
36. Have had chronic sinusitis or nasal problems.
37. Have had electronics around you go haywire or oddly malfunction with no explanation (such as street lights going out as you walk under them, TV’s and radios affected as you move close, etc.).
38. Have seen a hooded figure in or near your home, especially next to your bed.
39. Have had frequent or sporadic ringing in your ears, especially in one ear.
40. Have an unusual fear of doctors or tend to avoid medical treatment.
41. Have insomnia or sleep disorders which are puzzling to you.
42. Have had dreams of doctors or medical procedures.
43. Have frequent or sporadic headaches, especially in the sinus, behind one eye, or in one ear.
44. Have the feeling that you are going crazy for even thinking about these sorts of things.
45. Have had paranormal or psychic experiences, including intuition.
46. Have been prone to compulsive or addictive behavior.
47. Have channeled telepathic messages from extraterrestrials.
48. Have simply heard an external voice in your head, speaking to you, perhaps instructing or guiding you.
49. Have been afraid of your closet, now or as a child.
50. Have had sexual or relationship problems (such as an odd “feeling” that you must not become involved in a relationship because it would interfere with “something.”)
51. Have to sleep against the wall or must sleep with your bed against a wall.
52. Have a fear that you must be very vigilant or you will be taken away by “someone.”
53. Have a difficult time trusting other people, especially authority figures.
54. Have had dreams of destruction or catastrophe.
55. Have the feeling that you are not supposed to talk about these things, or that you should not talk about them.
56. Have experienced many things in this list, and recall your children or parents speaking of similar experiences on occasion.
57. Have tried to resolve these types of problems with little or no success.
58. Have many of these traits but can’t remember anything about an abduction or alien encounter.

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