SPACE BURGER

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

He stretches, groaning a little as he does so. "I do apologize for the unexpected visit, though. It's surprisingly hard to keep track of your contact information, even for somebody with my talents."

"However," He adds, "It's not like the MSU isn't used to working around the quirks of its members. And there are ways to harden the mind against your particular quirks. I assume the people working with you at the EWO know who you are, yes? And if they know, then the means by which they know can be reverse-engineered and applied across the MSU if you wanted."

Amanystria's eyes might not gleam or glint, but Mike can still recognise the look of determination and defiance in them as they speak. He does not lack a spark or a fire, his simply sings in a fundamentally different key. There's a different kind of drive there, one only seen on those walking steadfast and confidently to their own death knowing it to be the only option. She didn't reach madness through the insanity of crazed genius, but by walking the other direction through sanity until she came out the other side. Instead of gleeful cackling, there is only a perfect calculating calm.

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

He stretches, groaning a little as he does so. "I do apologize for the unexpected visit, though. It's surprisingly hard to keep track of your contact information, even for somebody with my talents."

"However," He adds, "It's not like the MSU isn't used to working around the quirks of its members. And there are ways to harden the mind against your particular quirks. I assume the people working with you at the EWO know who you are, yes? And if they know, then the means by which they know can be reverse-engineered and applied across the MSU if you wanted."

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

He stretches, groaning a little as he does so. "I do apologize for the unexpected visit, though. It's surprisingly hard to keep track of your contact information, even for somebody with my talents."

"However," He adds, "It's not like the MSU isn't used to working around the quirks of its members. And there are ways to harden the mind against your particular quirks. I assume the people working with you at the EWO know who you are, yes? And if they know, then the means by which they know can be reverse-engineered and applied across the MSU if you wanted."

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

He stretches, groaning a little as he does so. "I do apologize for the unexpected visit, though. It's surprisingly hard to keep track of your contact information, even for somebody with my talents."

(pro tip: name some ocs in the tags when you reblog this so newcomers can ask with ease, and be sure to send an ask to the person you reblog it from!)

Someone asks your character how they’re doing. How honest is their answer?

What’s something your character takes pride in, no matter what anybody else thinks?

How does your character act when they’re feeling bad physically?

How does your character act when they’re feeling bad mentally?

What sense is your character most likely to get overwhelmed by?

Describe a scenario that would make your character cry. Be as specific or as general as you’d like.

Would your character rather read to someone or be read to?

Someone steals a bit of food off your character's plate without asking. How do they react?

Does your character fit in well? With society in general? With a certain group of people?

What's an object your character uses everyday?

Think of an animal. Whatever first came to mind, how would your character fare if it attacked them?

Does your character go to the doctor, dentist, etc. as often as they should?

How would your character describe their gender? Even if they're purely binary or cis, are there any particular descriptors they might throw in?

Does your character regularly take any medication? Have they in the past?

What's your character's idea of a wild night on the town?

It's New Year's Eve, and your character is trying to stay up until midnight, whether they want to or not. How do they hold up?

Is there anybody your character is exceptionally close to?

Is there anybody your character really hates?

Think of somebody who has hurt your character. How does your character feel about that person?

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

After a little thinking, they type up a response:

Hello Mike!

Yes, your calculations were almost spot-on, I had just finished reading through said paper when I got this. Interesting stuff from what I can grasp, as a non-specialist in the field. I must admit curiosity towards what the 'plan' you mentioned is and why you haven’t been able to speak of it until now - my location is no secret, after all - so expect something of an interrogation when we meet.

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you would prefer this location not be heavily trafficked, so I suggest a picnic in the woods bordering my estate. There's a nice little clearing where some fire god or something came through a while back, it's got some good stumps for sitting on too. Though I will still be bringing a few camping chairs.

And a few thermoses of Igor's tea, of course.

Anyway, I assume the morphic resonance of said fire god landing there will be enough for you to locate it, but if it helps look on the northwest side. Come at your convenience, I'll keep a lookout. Or if you're too old to go hiking let me know and we can meet at a café in town, or something.

Wela i di wedyn!

Perfect! Don't worry about figuring out a time. I suspect that whenever you choose will work fine for me. Rescontrarai ailà!

And the burning curiosity within lead them to decide that the best time for this meeting was, in fact, right now. Or yesterday, really, but that would take no less time from her perspective, so she didn't bother.

"Please, please, have a seat, I know you have so many questions. But first, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Professor Michael Cook, PhD. I teach Parapsychology at the University of Chicago's shadow campus."

Instead, they were dressed in plain black linen slacks and a purple sweater with little lime green flasks and chemical diagrams knit in, and black leather combat boots.

"I imagine you're a little surprised to see my scientific accomplishments. I recall that when you knew me, I never quite had the head for the laboratory, my enthusiasm notwithstanding. Or did you have questions about how and when I found you? Synchrometry is a rather arcane discipline."

"I think I would like an explanation of synchrometry, yes. I know how certain other Michael Cooks have accomplished similar results, but you probably don't have quite the same access to their natural abilities. And yes, the story of your work would be appreciated also - I always welcome more minds to the fold, but your addition was unexpected."

Merlyn pauses to let another peal of thunder sound.

"It's a discipline of parapsychology that I personally pioneered. I woke up in my apartment one night in 1988, having been plagued for weeks by dreams that I was working in a cafeteria that catered to the strange and monstrous, to realize that the experience changed me. I could sense things before they happened, feel impressions of the past in objects I held."

"Maybe I was always this way... I remember my mom used to say that gifts ran in my family, I assumed she was just speaking euphemistically about my neurodivergences, but... she did have anuncanny intuition, as did my grandpa."

Mike takes another sip of tea, "And so I started reading. Conventional science couldn't explain it. But unconventional science could. The fringes of human knowledge were where I found answers. Everything has a mind, and those minds are connected. With the rise of the internet, I began publishing on rarely-visited forums and message boards, performing experiments. I learned to read minds, to project myself across the country, and even to predict the future with mathematical precision... to a certain degree of certainty."

"Synchrometry: The study of coincidence, serendipity, and eventuality. The mysteries of luck and chance laid bare to mortal cognition, the yielding of chaos to order." Mike's tone changes slightly. The way he's talking... it sounds like so many professors and colleagues she's known from her time in the Union. This Mike has harnessed found Prometheus's Fire, and he doesn't care if he might burn himself with it. "With my methods... I can predict the unpredictable, and to a degree I can influence it. I didn't bring you to me, but I knew you would find me in time. All I had to do was show up that night, three years ago. Everything there was dominos."

He takes another sip, "I understand that those dominoes carried quite a bit of distress. You experienced loss and terror and heartbreak in the intervening years. I'm sorry I couldn't intercede, but those dominoes would have fallen regardless. All I did was put them in motion at the right time and place that one would fall into you, at your computer, finding my paper and triggering an automated email."

"Nonetheless you chose to put those dominoes in place," she says, "If I would have found you eventually - and of that I have little doubt - there was no need to set an automated email, was there? That was a choice you made. If you say it was just hastening the inevitable, fine. Why did you want to do that? I suppose no intervention was required in me finding your work around now. After all that has happened, I find myself a little more open to the potential of researching more magic and arcane arts - though I'd never want to undertake it myself, of course. But still. I cannot believe you are bereft of motivation and intention in this."

She hums a little. "And I am wondering about the potential social ramifications also. Should I tell Mike - that is, the dream-Mike who has been a good friend to me - that I saw you? Have you any interest in seeing him? Or would it just be best for me to ask my questions and then pretend this never happened to him? Not that it would be very successful if I tried, mind."

Merlyn frowns suddenly, and puts up their umbrella. "Blast, I'd hoped it would stay sunny a bit longer. Oh well," they say as the first drops of rain fall. "At least it isn't more snow."

"I know very, very little of what goes on here. All I really have is whatever scraps that come from your work or Mr. Donovan's. But I am eager to find out more in time. However, I think I can say that the few events I've gleaned line up with my predictions."

He lays out a few polaroid photos of what appear to be trios of tarot cards, picking up one. "For you: The Emperor, the Ace of Cups, The Lovers. Authority, spirituality, and partnership. You did attract the eye of a god, did you not?"

Mike continues, "The Empress, the Five of Cups, the Star. Motherhood, grief, rejuvenation. Your daughter Jackie, met with a grim and terrible fate before being revived."

He picks up one more polaroid. "And one more... Ah! Reversed Seven of Wands, Seven of Cups, and a Reversed Eight of Swords. That one, I believe, describes your childhood: Destroyed confidence, searching for meaning, freedom."

All decent, if vague descriptions of things that have happened to Merlyn, but one thing stands out. Labels and dates. The first is labeled "Imperator, 1/3/97", the second "Resurrection, 2/6/94", and the third "Princess, 8/12/91." These all were taken when she was a child, years or decades in advance of the events.

Merlyn stares at Professor Cook for a few moments. "But that last fact alone, of course, proves you do have enough forsight to have made it here so quickly. I was not testing if you could predict the future, but rather how accurately and completely. I'm sorry to say that your abilities seem approximately in line with those of my grandmother."

They sip their tea. "On the bright side, I do come from wizard stock. Much as I personally deny the existence of fate, my grandmother was regarded as a talented Seer."

Mike pulls out a notepad. It contains... well the text on the pad isn't verbatim what she said, but it's close enough that it could be at some points mistaken for having been written as she spoke. A few mistakes and a missing sentence or a sentence she never actually said, but quite close.

"Those photos were taken when my methods were crude, rudimentary and hazy. I've refined my methodology considerably, parsing the superstition from the experimentally validated methodology. This one was from this morning... 'dates are easy enough to fake... wikipedia page...' Oh, you said 'monarch' but this says 'princess.' And... the part about seasons is missing. I might have to refine my algorithm a bit but even so, a solid B+ is definitely better than guessing."

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

After a little thinking, they type up a response:

Hello Mike!

Yes, your calculations were almost spot-on, I had just finished reading through said paper when I got this. Interesting stuff from what I can grasp, as a non-specialist in the field. I must admit curiosity towards what the 'plan' you mentioned is and why you haven’t been able to speak of it until now - my location is no secret, after all - so expect something of an interrogation when we meet.

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you would prefer this location not be heavily trafficked, so I suggest a picnic in the woods bordering my estate. There's a nice little clearing where some fire god or something came through a while back, it's got some good stumps for sitting on too. Though I will still be bringing a few camping chairs.

And a few thermoses of Igor's tea, of course.

Anyway, I assume the morphic resonance of said fire god landing there will be enough for you to locate it, but if it helps look on the northwest side. Come at your convenience, I'll keep a lookout. Or if you're too old to go hiking let me know and we can meet at a café in town, or something.

Wela i di wedyn!

Perfect! Don't worry about figuring out a time. I suspect that whenever you choose will work fine for me. Rescontrarai ailà!

And the burning curiosity within lead them to decide that the best time for this meeting was, in fact, right now. Or yesterday, really, but that would take no less time from her perspective, so she didn't bother.

"Please, please, have a seat, I know you have so many questions. But first, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Professor Michael Cook, PhD. I teach Parapsychology at the University of Chicago's shadow campus."

Instead, they were dressed in plain black linen slacks and a purple sweater with little lime green flasks and chemical diagrams knit in, and black leather combat boots.

"I imagine you're a little surprised to see my scientific accomplishments. I recall that when you knew me, I never quite had the head for the laboratory, my enthusiasm notwithstanding. Or did you have questions about how and when I found you? Synchrometry is a rather arcane discipline."

"I think I would like an explanation of synchrometry, yes. I know how certain other Michael Cooks have accomplished similar results, but you probably don't have quite the same access to their natural abilities. And yes, the story of your work would be appreciated also - I always welcome more minds to the fold, but your addition was unexpected."

Merlyn pauses to let another peal of thunder sound.

"It's a discipline of parapsychology that I personally pioneered. I woke up in my apartment one night in 1988, having been plagued for weeks by dreams that I was working in a cafeteria that catered to the strange and monstrous, to realize that the experience changed me. I could sense things before they happened, feel impressions of the past in objects I held."

"Maybe I was always this way... I remember my mom used to say that gifts ran in my family, I assumed she was just speaking euphemistically about my neurodivergences, but... she did have anuncanny intuition, as did my grandpa."

Mike takes another sip of tea, "And so I started reading. Conventional science couldn't explain it. But unconventional science could. The fringes of human knowledge were where I found answers. Everything has a mind, and those minds are connected. With the rise of the internet, I began publishing on rarely-visited forums and message boards, performing experiments. I learned to read minds, to project myself across the country, and even to predict the future with mathematical precision... to a certain degree of certainty."

"Synchrometry: The study of coincidence, serendipity, and eventuality. The mysteries of luck and chance laid bare to mortal cognition, the yielding of chaos to order." Mike's tone changes slightly. The way he's talking... it sounds like so many professors and colleagues she's known from her time in the Union. This Mike has harnessed found Prometheus's Fire, and he doesn't care if he might burn himself with it. "With my methods... I can predict the unpredictable, and to a degree I can influence it. I didn't bring you to me, but I knew you would find me in time. All I had to do was show up that night, three years ago. Everything there was dominos."

He takes another sip, "I understand that those dominoes carried quite a bit of distress. You experienced loss and terror and heartbreak in the intervening years. I'm sorry I couldn't intercede, but those dominoes would have fallen regardless. All I did was put them in motion at the right time and place that one would fall into you, at your computer, finding my paper and triggering an automated email."

"Nonetheless you chose to put those dominoes in place," she says, "If I would have found you eventually - and of that I have little doubt - there was no need to set an automated email, was there? That was a choice you made. If you say it was just hastening the inevitable, fine. Why did you want to do that? I suppose no intervention was required in me finding your work around now. After all that has happened, I find myself a little more open to the potential of researching more magic and arcane arts - though I'd never want to undertake it myself, of course. But still. I cannot believe you are bereft of motivation and intention in this."

She hums a little. "And I am wondering about the potential social ramifications also. Should I tell Mike - that is, the dream-Mike who has been a good friend to me - that I saw you? Have you any interest in seeing him? Or would it just be best for me to ask my questions and then pretend this never happened to him? Not that it would be very successful if I tried, mind."

Merlyn frowns suddenly, and puts up their umbrella. "Blast, I'd hoped it would stay sunny a bit longer. Oh well," they say as the first drops of rain fall. "At least it isn't more snow."

"I know very, very little of what goes on here. All I really have is whatever scraps that come from your work or Mr. Donovan's. But I am eager to find out more in time. However, I think I can say that the few events I've gleaned line up with my predictions."

He lays out a few polaroid photos of what appear to be trios of tarot cards, picking up one. "For you: The Emperor, the Ace of Cups, The Lovers. Authority, spirituality, and partnership. You did attract the eye of a god, did you not?"

Mike continues, "The Empress, the Five of Cups, the Star. Motherhood, grief, rejuvenation. Your daughter Jackie, met with a grim and terrible fate before being revived."

He picks up one more polaroid. "And one more... Ah! Reversed Seven of Wands, Seven of Cups, and a Reversed Eight of Swords. That one, I believe, describes your childhood: Destroyed confidence, searching for meaning, freedom."

All decent, if vague descriptions of things that have happened to Merlyn, but one thing stands out. Labels and dates. The first is labeled "Imperator, 1/3/97", the second "Resurrection, 2/6/94", and the third "Princess, 8/12/91." These all were taken when she was a child, years or decades in advance of the events.

Merlyn stares at Professor Cook for a few moments. "But that last fact alone, of course, proves you do have enough forsight to have made it here so quickly. I was not testing if you could predict the future, but rather how accurately and completely. I'm sorry to say that your abilities seem approximately in line with those of my grandmother."

They sip their tea. "On the bright side, I do come from wizard stock. Much as I personally deny the existence of fate, my grandmother was regarded as a talented Seer."

Mike pulls out a notepad. It contains... well the text on the pad isn't verbatim what she said, but it's close enough that it could be at some points mistaken for having been written as she spoke. A few mistakes and a missing sentence or a sentence she never actually said, but quite close.

"Those photos were taken when my methods were crude, rudimentary and hazy. I've refined my methodology considerably, parsing the superstition from the experimentally validated methodology. This one was from this morning... 'dates are easy enough to fake... wikipedia page...' Oh, you said 'monarch' but this says 'princess.' And... the part about seasons is missing. I might have to refine my algorithm a bit but even so, a solid B+ is definitely better than guessing."

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

As Jackie says all that, Jane pushes herself out of the wall, this time not damaging it. It's a strange sight.

Jane is no longer clipped into the wall, now able to stand upright before the class. "You're quite a bit taller, for one."

The class is watching this exchange with more than a bit of confusion, but Jane gets the vibe that "confusion" is sort of the usual emotion in this lecture hall.

Semi-ex girlfriends and their semi situationships set aside for hopefully the rest of this situation, Jane goes to sit in said seat. When she does so, she tries to take up as little space as possible. Even the slightest amount of skin contact with any neighbor would be awkward, not helping that this is Ruby.

The Professor pauses for a good moment.

"Oh yes! The first and most fundamental principle of synchrometrics, or as I have taken to calling it," He smiles just a bi smugly, "Cook's First Maxim: 'Chaos is order that has yet to be discerned!'"

"Take our visitor for example. Nobody could have predicted purely from physical or probabilistic information that she would appear, and yet I knew she'd be here! All I had to do was refuse to accept the existence of randomness."

As the Professor talks, he points to words on his whiteboard. "Of course, that is only half the story. The other half is Cook's Second Maxim: 'Order is chaos put to narrative.'"

That gets a groan from one student, who gets up and leaves, complaining about something called "pataphysics" as the Professor ignores him and continues. Somebody always dips in the first lesson.

"So. Alexandria?" Ruby whispers to her first, tone unidentifiable.

"yeah...?" Jane whispers back. Assume theyre both talking quietly.

"Uh.. how's she doing? I didn't really... leave on good terms with her."

"She will be found. But not alone. Keep talking."

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

As Jackie says all that, Jane pushes herself out of the wall, this time not damaging it. It's a strange sight.

Jane is no longer clipped into the wall, now able to stand upright before the class. "You're quite a bit taller, for one."

The class is watching this exchange with more than a bit of confusion, but Jane gets the vibe that "confusion" is sort of the usual emotion in this lecture hall.

Semi-ex girlfriends and their semi situationships set aside for hopefully the rest of this situation, Jane goes to sit in said seat. When she does so, she tries to take up as little space as possible. Even the slightest amount of skin contact with any neighbor would be awkward, not helping that this is Ruby.

The Professor pauses for a good moment.

"Oh yes! The first and most fundamental principle of synchrometrics, or as I have taken to calling it," He smiles just a bi smugly, "Cook's First Maxim: 'Chaos is order that has yet to be discerned!'"

"Take our visitor for example. Nobody could have predicted purely from physical or probabilistic information that she would appear, and yet I knew she'd be here! All I had to do was refuse to accept the existence of randomness."

As the Professor talks, he points to words on his whiteboard. "Of course, that is only half the story. The other half is Cook's Second Maxim: 'Order is chaos put to narrative.'"

That gets a groan from one student, who gets up and leaves, complaining about something called "pataphysics" as the Professor ignores him and continues. Somebody always dips in the first lesson.

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

As Jackie says all that, Jane pushes herself out of the wall, this time not damaging it. It's a strange sight.

Jane is no longer clipped into the wall, now able to stand upright before the class. "You're quite a bit taller, for one."

The class is watching this exchange with more than a bit of confusion, but Jane gets the vibe that "confusion" is sort of the usual emotion in this lecture hall.

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

As Jackie says all that, Jane pushes herself out of the wall, this time not damaging it. It's a strange sight.

Jane is no longer clipped into the wall, now able to stand upright before the class. "You're quite a bit taller, for one."

The class is watching this exchange with more than a bit of confusion, but Jane gets the vibe that "confusion" is sort of the usual emotion in this lecture hall.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

After a little thinking, they type up a response:

Hello Mike!

Yes, your calculations were almost spot-on, I had just finished reading through said paper when I got this. Interesting stuff from what I can grasp, as a non-specialist in the field. I must admit curiosity towards what the 'plan' you mentioned is and why you haven’t been able to speak of it until now - my location is no secret, after all - so expect something of an interrogation when we meet.

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you would prefer this location not be heavily trafficked, so I suggest a picnic in the woods bordering my estate. There's a nice little clearing where some fire god or something came through a while back, it's got some good stumps for sitting on too. Though I will still be bringing a few camping chairs.

And a few thermoses of Igor's tea, of course.

Anyway, I assume the morphic resonance of said fire god landing there will be enough for you to locate it, but if it helps look on the northwest side. Come at your convenience, I'll keep a lookout. Or if you're too old to go hiking let me know and we can meet at a café in town, or something.

Wela i di wedyn!

Perfect! Don't worry about figuring out a time. I suspect that whenever you choose will work fine for me. Rescontrarai ailà!

And the burning curiosity within lead them to decide that the best time for this meeting was, in fact, right now. Or yesterday, really, but that would take no less time from her perspective, so she didn't bother.

"Please, please, have a seat, I know you have so many questions. But first, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Professor Michael Cook, PhD. I teach Parapsychology at the University of Chicago's shadow campus."

Instead, they were dressed in plain black linen slacks and a purple sweater with little lime green flasks and chemical diagrams knit in, and black leather combat boots.

"I imagine you're a little surprised to see my scientific accomplishments. I recall that when you knew me, I never quite had the head for the laboratory, my enthusiasm notwithstanding. Or did you have questions about how and when I found you? Synchrometry is a rather arcane discipline."

"I think I would like an explanation of synchrometry, yes. I know how certain other Michael Cooks have accomplished similar results, but you probably don't have quite the same access to their natural abilities. And yes, the story of your work would be appreciated also - I always welcome more minds to the fold, but your addition was unexpected."

Merlyn pauses to let another peal of thunder sound.

"It's a discipline of parapsychology that I personally pioneered. I woke up in my apartment one night in 1988, having been plagued for weeks by dreams that I was working in a cafeteria that catered to the strange and monstrous, to realize that the experience changed me. I could sense things before they happened, feel impressions of the past in objects I held."

"Maybe I was always this way... I remember my mom used to say that gifts ran in my family, I assumed she was just speaking euphemistically about my neurodivergences, but... she did have anuncanny intuition, as did my grandpa."

Mike takes another sip of tea, "And so I started reading. Conventional science couldn't explain it. But unconventional science could. The fringes of human knowledge were where I found answers. Everything has a mind, and those minds are connected. With the rise of the internet, I began publishing on rarely-visited forums and message boards, performing experiments. I learned to read minds, to project myself across the country, and even to predict the future with mathematical precision... to a certain degree of certainty."

"Synchrometry: The study of coincidence, serendipity, and eventuality. The mysteries of luck and chance laid bare to mortal cognition, the yielding of chaos to order." Mike's tone changes slightly. The way he's talking... it sounds like so many professors and colleagues she's known from her time in the Union. This Mike has harnessed found Prometheus's Fire, and he doesn't care if he might burn himself with it. "With my methods... I can predict the unpredictable, and to a degree I can influence it. I didn't bring you to me, but I knew you would find me in time. All I had to do was show up that night, three years ago. Everything there was dominos."

He takes another sip, "I understand that those dominoes carried quite a bit of distress. You experienced loss and terror and heartbreak in the intervening years. I'm sorry I couldn't intercede, but those dominoes would have fallen regardless. All I did was put them in motion at the right time and place that one would fall into you, at your computer, finding my paper and triggering an automated email."

"Nonetheless you chose to put those dominoes in place," she says, "If I would have found you eventually - and of that I have little doubt - there was no need to set an automated email, was there? That was a choice you made. If you say it was just hastening the inevitable, fine. Why did you want to do that? I suppose no intervention was required in me finding your work around now. After all that has happened, I find myself a little more open to the potential of researching more magic and arcane arts - though I'd never want to undertake it myself, of course. But still. I cannot believe you are bereft of motivation and intention in this."

She hums a little. "And I am wondering about the potential social ramifications also. Should I tell Mike - that is, the dream-Mike who has been a good friend to me - that I saw you? Have you any interest in seeing him? Or would it just be best for me to ask my questions and then pretend this never happened to him? Not that it would be very successful if I tried, mind."

Merlyn frowns suddenly, and puts up their umbrella. "Blast, I'd hoped it would stay sunny a bit longer. Oh well," they say as the first drops of rain fall. "At least it isn't more snow."

"I know very, very little of what goes on here. All I really have is whatever scraps that come from your work or Mr. Donovan's. But I am eager to find out more in time. However, I think I can say that the few events I've gleaned line up with my predictions."

He lays out a few polaroid photos of what appear to be trios of tarot cards, picking up one. "For you: The Emperor, the Ace of Cups, The Lovers. Authority, spirituality, and partnership. You did attract the eye of a god, did you not?"

Mike continues, "The Empress, the Five of Cups, the Star. Motherhood, grief, rejuvenation. Your daughter Jackie, met with a grim and terrible fate before being revived."

He picks up one more polaroid. "And one more... Ah! Reversed Seven of Wands, Seven of Cups, and a Reversed Eight of Swords. That one, I believe, describes your childhood: Destroyed confidence, searching for meaning, freedom."

All decent, if vague descriptions of things that have happened to Merlyn, but one thing stands out. Labels and dates. The first is labeled "Imperator, 1/3/97", the second "Resurrection, 2/6/94", and the third "Princess, 8/12/91." These all were taken when she was a child, years or decades in advance of the events.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

After a little thinking, they type up a response:

Hello Mike!

Yes, your calculations were almost spot-on, I had just finished reading through said paper when I got this. Interesting stuff from what I can grasp, as a non-specialist in the field. I must admit curiosity towards what the 'plan' you mentioned is and why you haven’t been able to speak of it until now - my location is no secret, after all - so expect something of an interrogation when we meet.

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you would prefer this location not be heavily trafficked, so I suggest a picnic in the woods bordering my estate. There's a nice little clearing where some fire god or something came through a while back, it's got some good stumps for sitting on too. Though I will still be bringing a few camping chairs.

And a few thermoses of Igor's tea, of course.

Anyway, I assume the morphic resonance of said fire god landing there will be enough for you to locate it, but if it helps look on the northwest side. Come at your convenience, I'll keep a lookout. Or if you're too old to go hiking let me know and we can meet at a café in town, or something.

Wela i di wedyn!

Perfect! Don't worry about figuring out a time. I suspect that whenever you choose will work fine for me. Rescontrarai ailà!

And the burning curiosity within lead them to decide that the best time for this meeting was, in fact, right now. Or yesterday, really, but that would take no less time from her perspective, so she didn't bother.

"Please, please, have a seat, I know you have so many questions. But first, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Professor Michael Cook, PhD. I teach Parapsychology at the University of Chicago's shadow campus."

Instead, they were dressed in plain black linen slacks and a purple sweater with little lime green flasks and chemical diagrams knit in, and black leather combat boots.

"I imagine you're a little surprised to see my scientific accomplishments. I recall that when you knew me, I never quite had the head for the laboratory, my enthusiasm notwithstanding. Or did you have questions about how and when I found you? Synchrometry is a rather arcane discipline."

"I think I would like an explanation of synchrometry, yes. I know how certain other Michael Cooks have accomplished similar results, but you probably don't have quite the same access to their natural abilities. And yes, the story of your work would be appreciated also - I always welcome more minds to the fold, but your addition was unexpected."

Merlyn pauses to let another peal of thunder sound.

"It's a discipline of parapsychology that I personally pioneered. I woke up in my apartment one night in 1988, having been plagued for weeks by dreams that I was working in a cafeteria that catered to the strange and monstrous, to realize that the experience changed me. I could sense things before they happened, feel impressions of the past in objects I held."

"Maybe I was always this way... I remember my mom used to say that gifts ran in my family, I assumed she was just speaking euphemistically about my neurodivergences, but... she did have anuncanny intuition, as did my grandpa."

Mike takes another sip of tea, "And so I started reading. Conventional science couldn't explain it. But unconventional science could. The fringes of human knowledge were where I found answers. Everything has a mind, and those minds are connected. With the rise of the internet, I began publishing on rarely-visited forums and message boards, performing experiments. I learned to read minds, to project myself across the country, and even to predict the future with mathematical precision... to a certain degree of certainty."

"Synchrometry: The study of coincidence, serendipity, and eventuality. The mysteries of luck and chance laid bare to mortal cognition, the yielding of chaos to order." Mike's tone changes slightly. The way he's talking... it sounds like so many professors and colleagues she's known from her time in the Union. This Mike has harnessed found Prometheus's Fire, and he doesn't care if he might burn himself with it. "With my methods... I can predict the unpredictable, and to a degree I can influence it. I didn't bring you to me, but I knew you would find me in time. All I had to do was show up that night, three years ago. Everything there was dominos."

He takes another sip, "I understand that those dominoes carried quite a bit of distress. You experienced loss and terror and heartbreak in the intervening years. I'm sorry I couldn't intercede, but those dominoes would have fallen regardless. All I did was put them in motion at the right time and place that one would fall into you, at your computer, finding my paper and triggering an automated email."

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

After a little thinking, they type up a response:

Hello Mike!

Yes, your calculations were almost spot-on, I had just finished reading through said paper when I got this. Interesting stuff from what I can grasp, as a non-specialist in the field. I must admit curiosity towards what the 'plan' you mentioned is and why you haven’t been able to speak of it until now - my location is no secret, after all - so expect something of an interrogation when we meet.

I'm going to go out on a limb and assume you would prefer this location not be heavily trafficked, so I suggest a picnic in the woods bordering my estate. There's a nice little clearing where some fire god or something came through a while back, it's got some good stumps for sitting on too. Though I will still be bringing a few camping chairs.

And a few thermoses of Igor's tea, of course.

Anyway, I assume the morphic resonance of said fire god landing there will be enough for you to locate it, but if it helps look on the northwest side. Come at your convenience, I'll keep a lookout. Or if you're too old to go hiking let me know and we can meet at a café in town, or something.

Wela i di wedyn!

Perfect! Don't worry about figuring out a time. I suspect that whenever you choose will work fine for me. Rescontrarai ailà!

And the burning curiosity within lead them to decide that the best time for this meeting was, in fact, right now. Or yesterday, really, but that would take no less time from her perspective, so she didn't bother.

"Please, please, have a seat, I know you have so many questions. But first, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Professor Michael Cook, PhD. I teach Parapsychology at the University of Chicago's shadow campus."

Instead, they were dressed in plain black linen slacks and a purple sweater with little lime green flasks and chemical diagrams knit in, and black leather combat boots.

"I imagine you're a little surprised to see my scientific accomplishments. I recall that when you knew me, I never quite had the head for the laboratory, my enthusiasm notwithstanding. Or did you have questions about how and when I found you? Synchrometry is a rather arcane discipline."