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No, the NSRA have a crucial part of this story, but not just yet...

You say that like it's a bad thing.




LMNO
-Seems to be catching whatever it is that's going around.

Fair enough.

Hey, I'm not saying its a requirement, I'm just saying you shouldn't comment on what I have to say if you don't know what I'm saying.

Nice try, but you apparently haven't been reading the (w)Holey texts...

From the PD...  take it for what it's worth:

Eristic Illusion = The belief that disorder is better than order.

Aneristic Illusion = The Belief that order is better than disorder.

"Aneristic" behaviour is usually referred to here as the majority of behaviour by Greyfaces.

I thought you'd like that chapter...

I'm not in the mood to go into semantics today, but I'd say that Roger (and Turd) tend to exemplify Discordian thought, and Verthaine (and gnimbley) tend to exemplify Erisian thought.



Maybe.  I could be lying.


LMNO
-Erisian.

As a member of the Erisian Liberation Front, I am authorized to send best wishes and thoughts of a speedy recovery for Zorga, as well as a bottle of Rum.



And no ninja moves for at least a week, ok?

I found the Escher Key--

Oh, fuck.  Where did it go?


::goes looking for Escher Key::


I'll take the stairs...

Erin went back to finish dressing, and I picked up the phone, and quickly dialed.

,ÄúRandy,Ķ Yeah, it,Äôs me again,Ķ No, fine, fine.  Things are heating up,Ķ  No, not in that way,Äîwell, actually, yes, in that way too,Ķ  Yeah, I know this is an East Quadrant number, it,Äôs my client,Äôs apartment,Ķ Hey now, no need to get crass,Ķ  Look, no time for that now.  This line has just now been cleared of bugs, and any minute now, the GovInc automatic monitors are going to wonder why they aren,Äôt hearing anything.  Randy, I need another favor,Ķ yeah, I know, but this is serious.  Do you still have friends at the Ocean?  ...Yeah, the Edge of the World Clan, I remember.  Do you think they,Äôd allow a friend of a friend access to their stuff?  ,ĶNo, seriously,Ķ  Look, just make a call for me, and let me know, ok?  ,ĶYeah, leave the message in the usual place,Ķ,Äù  I heard the sound of heliplanes in the distance.  ,ÄúLook, Randy, I have to go.  They,Äôve located us,Ķ  Ok, half an hour.,Äù

I hung up, and ran to the back room, where Erin had just finished packing up a bag.  She had decided on a rugged-looking pair of pants, with boots to match.  ,ÄúErin, we have to go. Now.,Äù

,ÄúWhat is it?,Äù

,ÄúThose heliplanes are no doubt on their way here.  Looking for us. Well, not us, but for whoever dismantled their bugs.  Which is us.  So we have to haul ass.,Äù

,ÄúNot in your car, we won,Äôt.,Äù

,ÄúYou have a better idea?,Äù

,ÄúYeah,,Äù Erin said, sweeping up a set of keys and tossing them to me.  ,ÄúWe,Äôll take my car.,Äù  She breezed by me, slinging the bag over one shoulder.  I followed her to the elevator, scooping up my jacket as I went.  We stepped into the elevator, and Erin jabbed at the button for the basement.  The doors closed, and we plunged hundreds of floors, accelerating as we went.  At this rate, we,Äôll hit free fall, I thought.  Soon enough though, I could feel the huge disc brakes start to apply pressure, and after a few minutes, and several readjustments to the air pressure, we came to a gentle stop.  

The door slid open, and there was a figure in the doorway.  A large man, at least 6,Äô6,Äù, almost as wide as the doorway, with a bulky jacket, pockets strategically placed all over it, bulging dangerously.  He was wearing a helmet covered with a dark fabric, and a gun belt with at least thee visible kinds of projectile weapons, including an impossibly large gun.  It was a cop.

,ÄúShit,Äù I said.

,ÄúFuck,Äù he said.

,ÄúNo,Äù Erin said.

The cop,Äôs hand dropped to his waist, and I lunged forward, jabbing him in the throat with my fingers.  The cop let out an ,Äúurk,,Äù but didn,Äôt go down.  In fact, his right arm swung around, massive fist coming at me like a hammer.  I dropped to one knee, feeling the rush of air as the punch barely missed my head, and drove the heel of my hand into the side of his knee, just behind the reinforced kneepads he was wearing.  Out of nowhere the old street joke of why the cops really wore those kneepads flashed through my mind, but I was already driving my elbow into his other knee.  I threw myself backwards as the cop, foundations shattered, fell forward to the ground, his arms still reaching out to try and grab me.  I quickly got to my feet, and jumped up, grabbing onto the low-hanging water pipes jutting from the ceiling of the garage, and brought my knees to my chest.  The cop had his hands flat on the concrete floor, and was pushing himself up as I let go, and thrust my legs down as I dropped.

My feet met his neck and drove his face into the floor with a wet smack, followed by a dull cracking noise, his neck becoming slivers of bone.  The cop shuddered a bit, then finally stopped moving.  I crouched down next to him, and pulled at his jacket.  Fuck, this guy,Äôs heavy.  Erin asked in a shaky voice, ,Äúwhat are you doing?,Äù

I turned my head, and saw that she had gone several shades whiter.  ,ÄúWhat do you mean?  Do you see all the stuff he,Äôs got?,Äù

,ÄúBut,Ķ he,Äôs a cop.  And you killed him.,Äù

,ÄúBetter him than you, darling.  Now help me roll this guy.,Äù

Tentatively, she grabbed onto his jacket, and we rolled him over.  Erin winced when she saw his ruined face.  I quickly unzipped his jacket, and stripped off his gunbelt.  ,ÄúWe,Äôre lucky he didn,Äôt get a call off to whoever his backup was,,Äù I said.  ,ÄúThere,Äôs a good chance conventional radio signals won,Äôt carry, so his heart monitor won,Äôt be registering any information anyway.,Äù  I slung the cop,Äôs jacket over one shoulder and the gunbelt over the other.   ,ÄúNow let,Äôs get this car of yours, and get the fuck out of here.,Äù

::high fives TCT::

Please see my edited response.

Hey, fluffy:


1. I've been working on soliciting and editing other texts for The City anthology.

2.  Fuck you.

Numbers 3 through 5 do not exist.

Well, if you are a solipsist, then there's not much to do to prove you're not.  It's just what you believe to be true.

However, to prove that Solipsism is bullshit, all I have to do is whack you in the back of the knees with a baseball bat when you aren't looking.

[edit:  but I realize that's not your point.  You want proof that Solipsism is not bullshit, by telling you your mother's maiden name.  but that's not really how it works.  Your brain has constructed a reality so complete that your brain cannot possibly concieve that we would "know" something like that, so it does not relay that information.  In fact, you can posit that telepathy, etc is simply the solipsistic mind breaking the rules of it's own game.]

Seriously, we've set a show up w/ her...