Deal 1187: Quest

That road was only the first of many, but I had to begin somewhere. It wasn’t even that much of a road, more like a less muddy path in the bleak landscape that was my birthplace.

But it was a start.

I was clumsy at first, of course. After a time, it got easier to walk up to the edge, and imagine that I had the strength of will to step across. Fortunately, imagination was not something I lacked. Rather the opposite, I suppose.

So I embraced my fate and became a road-crosser. A wanderer. And in time, I even began to follow the roads.

Today, I accept my role in this life.

I had a vision of the world changing, and it pushed me onto this quest.

I no longer need the vision to push me on my way. My own curiosity is more than enough to do that.

I see now that my vision of a falling sky was really a metaphor. The actual sky was never falling. But my belief in its limits was already shaky, and the vision gave me the strength to act. I am stronger for that.

The sky fell.

I crossed the road.

I am called to my quest and have answered my call.

I am no longer Little the coward.

I am the Long Road, Wanderer, Inquisitor, and Fowl most Curious.

And I cross roads because they are there.


Deal 1163: Watson may have watched Cthulhu dressing

The wise man once said something about not remembering the past meaning you were doomed to repeat it. He wasn’t entirely wrong.

Although, “doomed” isn’t the word I’d choose. “Able” might be a better choice.

Repeating the past is our whole secret. And the ability to do so with open mind and a memory of what is or might have been to come. Because, while history has a certain weight and inevitability to it, nothing is writ in stone.

Another wise man said something about the moving finger writing. Probably not referring to the fickle finger of fate, of course. But he too had a finger on the pulse of truth. Perhaps he was one of us, I certainly don’t know us all. I don’t really even know how many of us there are.

Counting temporal technicians is tricky, of course. First, we must agree on a baseline timeline in which to do the counting.
But time isn’t so conveniently arranged. Another wise man wrote about the “trousers of time”, and perhaps getting both feet in the wrong leg. He wasn’t entirely wrong either, except of course that the trousers were made for a non-spacial many legged creature that might as well be Cthulhu. You really don’t want to look too closely at his legs without his pants on. Trust me on that.

Madness is too kind.

But I digress.

The phone rings.

An auspicious start. Or end. Either way, Watson answers. Is it Holmes calling? Only in a past where Holmes was real and the phone was invented before the gaslight. That is a very narrow leg indeed. No, this is Thomas Watson, barely remembered in most histories. And it might not be strictly correct to say that his phone rang. It was early days, and the operator hadn’t been invented yet, just the telephone.

And the wonders of the infinitely legged trousers unfolded in new and intriguing ways.

Just remember not to peek inside.

Because that way lies the kind of madness where people put oranges or even peanut butter in their beer.

Oh, that is already happening?

Maybe that really is Cthulhu wearing the trousers.

And maybe we are all mad here.

New plates?


Well, then, time for a new phone.