The Machine That Goes Ping
Part 5
Posted Wed, Aug 24 2005 6:12 pm
The most difficult thing about being a fictional character in the real
world is the cats.
I escaped fairyland a while ago. The problem with a fictional monachy
is that they have absolute control, and the guards obey them even before
the order reaches their ears. I fell into a lake somewhere outside
Wonderland, found myself here, and haven’t looked back. Apparently
I’ve been removed from the story I was in. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never
looked.
Fiction is in the mind of the beholder. Fictional characters, therefore
look something like the way they are imagined to be by the people observing
them. Without a reference book to back me up, therefore, I generally
look the way people expect me to look, which gives me the problem of cats.
All the cats in this neighbourhood do not have a cheerful and sunny
disposition. It is their pleasure to despise you, and their satisifaction
knows no bounds when the person they are attempting to stare out of
existance does, in fact, disappear. Getting something to notice you
when you don’t exist, therefore expect to see you, therefore redefine
your existance as something human is something of a recursive problem.
More of a problem is getting them to see you as a smart man in a suit,
rather than a demented tramp, when you’ve spent the last fifteen minutes
pushing over salt cellers attempting to attact their attention.
Lately, this problem has gone away. The local felines, with their tendancy
to stand outside in the rain, have been turned into so many cute sugar
sculptures. They’ve been hit by the reconstructive rain.
I’ve been trying to work out what the hell is going on. From what I can
guess, something/one/other is attempting to merge the real world with the
one I used to live in, with mixed results. This means that, for example,
the candyland rain that comes every night and rebuilds all the gingerbread
houses and ensures that everyone inside is firmly in genre, is falling here,
but since it’s part of real rain it destroys as it rebuilds.
So, who would do something like this? To the best of my knowledge everyone
on the other side of the lake belives their world to be real. The only two
people I belive to be intrinsically evil enough to attempt something like
this are both too stupid to make it happen.
This is what I think. I think there is something attempting to come into
the real world, but cannot exist in it because of some of the physical
laws. I’m fine, since I’m a normal human. The Big Bad Wolf, for example,
would have more of a problem. I think something is weakening the reality
of the world so that it can come though. I didn’t know who. I didn’t know why.
As far as I knew, I had got away. Nobody on the other side had any way
of knowing where I was, or even that there was a here for me to get to.
So I was somewhat suprised She sent me a postcard. Now I know what I am
facing, and I know who I have to tell. I have a meeting with a
folklorist for some governmental department tomorrow morning, and I
know what we have to do.
We have to find Gretal. Before it works out how to get though.
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