- The Way Home
- The Annex of Irreal Nations
- Lauzon's Michael
- unused RPC-001 list
- The Room of Solar Luminance
- Austral War and Howler Notes
- Standing Proud
Galactic Registered Phenomena: 601
Object Class: Alpha - White
Hazard Types: Extra-Dimensional Hazard, Emotional Hazard.
Additional Properties: Immeasurable Hazard
PRIORITY 1 FLEET-WIDE ALERT / GRP-601:
THE FOLLOWING ANNOUNCEMENT IS A PRIORITY 1 ALERT FOR ALL CORPS PERSONNEL. ALL STANDARD DUTIES ARE SUSPENDED.Effective immediately upon receipt of this message, 5th, 6th and 9th fleets are retasked to Epsilon Pegasi, and will proceed there at maximum safe speed. Fleet logistics units will detach to rendezvous at Alpha Andromedae to commence the immediate relocation of the A. Andromedae Mobile Fleet Yard to Epsilon Pegasi.
Upon arrival, Fleet forces will deploy to commence large-scale exploration of GRP-601; current containment documentation is attached to this message. Logistics forces will commence the production of as many exploratory probes as is feasible given available materials; current command estimates place production rates at 350 functional probes within the next 30 standard days provided triple shifts are undertaken.
All personnel not currently assigned to 5th, 6th and 9th fleets, or involved in essential containment, exploratorr, or security duties, are requested to consider volunteering for the GRP-601 Human Exploration Program. Preliminary details to follow.
This is an extraordinary request, but the nature of GRP-601 presents what could be an extraordinary opportunity.
-Fleet Admiral Kinnison
Containment Protocols: GRP-601 is currently stored in a standard Alpha-class reinforced shipping container in Main Bay 2 of GRPCS Symphony1. In order to preserve ongoing drone exploration efforts, the current cover arrangement of the item must not be removed or unmade.
Description: GRP-601 is a handmade wooden bedframe of unknown origins. Whenever a mattress and sheets2 are placed on the bedframe and the bed is made3, the volume between the sheets and the mattress will become connected to an extradimensional space of apparently infinite size, designated GRP-601-1.
GRP-601-1 is infinite but bounded; while it expands endlessly4 in all directions, it maintains a consistent "floor" matching the texture and material of the mattress placed on the bed, and a "ceiling" of the same material as the sheet(s) placed on the bed. All attempts to damage or alter these surfaces while within GRP-601-1 have failed. While the expanse of sheet and mattress are as flexible and pliable as their base materials, they are impenetrable to any and all forms of scanning currently available to the Corps. Natural folds and draping of the sheet surface blocks line of sight and make radio communications inconsistent, especially at long ranges. The sheet ceiling has been observed to slowly undulate at random, apparently in response to pressure from whatever space or reality lies on its other side. While GRP-601-1 contains a human-breathable oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere containing no unusual trace elements, probes have observed that the average temperature and air pressure within the space slightly decreases in proportion to the distance from the entrance to the anomaly.
In the event that the sheets on GRP-601 are removed, all connections between baseline reality and the extradimensional space are severed cleanly at the edge of the bedframe; no equipment or personnel which has previously been "disconnected" from baseline reality has ever been recovered when re-opening GRP-601-1.
GRPC-601 induces a series of sensory effects in living beings which, while not harmful, are difficult to quantify. Rangers and test personnel, regardless of species, have reported GRP-601-1 being faintly illuminated by a dim glow radiating through the sheets5, the occasional impression of presences "leaning" or "looking over" the sheets, often accompanied by distant murmuring or soft speech sounds, and an overwhelming feeling of comfort or relaxation. Notably, these feelings have been noted even by Rangers of species which lack cultural equivalents for beds or bedding.
Rangers who sleep or rest withing GRP-601-1 invariably report having pleasant and vivid dreams, as well as a growing conviction that there is an "exit" to GRP-601-1; the strength of this conviction appears to grow proportionally to the number of times a subject has slept within the extradimensional space. Personnel nearly always become convinced that their dreams are an experience of whatever is "on the other side" of GRP-601-1. While these beliefs are not overriding and do not induce irrational or suicidal behavior, personnel who have experienced them and returned from GRP-601-1 via its entrance usually request repeat access or express strong desires to go further. To date, 13 individual test subjects and volunteers who have explored GPR-601-1 have not returned. Their remains, if any, have not been located.
Addendum: At [TIMESTAMP REDACTED], GRP-601 drone operators detected a faint radio signal emanating from withing GRP-601-1. The message, broadcast in Morse code on standard GRPC long-range frequencies, repeated the following message 18 times before ceasing.
The stars back there are bright and cold ~ You've wandered to the kingdom's wall
and home seems far away. ~ Poor lambs, in chrome and steel
I won't go back, for all my gold. ~ This trespass reeks of pride and gall
I've wandered, far astray. ~ How dare you think you're real?
But in this endless restfulness, ~ What lies 'twixt worlds is ours, not yours
still I know, for what it's worth ~ You learned this on the ice
That lying here, at the edge of sleep ~ This seeking for your home ensures
I can see the Earth. ~ We'll make you pay the price.
Reception of the signal involved a periodic shifting of the sheets within RPC-601, exposing a clear "corridor" or opening to a depth of approximately 120,000km. During the 4.5-minute interval in which the message was recieved, monitoring cameras placed at the opening of GRP-601 recorded light emanating from the far end of the corridor. The optical signature of this recorded light is a 99.85% match for that of the Terrestrial atmosphere.
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Registered Phenomena Code: XXX
Object Class: Alpha-White
Hazard Types: Extra-Dimensional Hazard, Psychotronic Hazard
Additional Properties: Immeasurable, Tychokinetic
Containment Protocols: As RPC-XXX constitutes no immediate risk to the health and safety of Authority or United Nations personnel, containment of the anomaly is intended to minimize the effects of its existence on the efficient operations of the United Nations as a whole.
The entrance to RPC-XXX is disguised as a janitorial closet on the 4th floor of the United Nations Secretariat building; Authority containment personnel operating under the cover of janitorial staff conduct daily collection of RPC-XXX-1 documents from the interior of the extradimensional space. The entrance to RPC-XXX, as well as its interior, is served by a dedicated security camera system fitted with ACS monitoring equipment for the collection of uttiologic data. Every morning, Monday to Friday, before 0900 local time, staff must ensure that the interior of RPC-XXX contains the following, placed at each of the room’s 20 seats;
- 1 x standard United Nations notepad, unused
- 3 x standard United Nations ballpoint pens, in blue, black and red
- 1 x 2-litre jug containing at least 1.75L of potable water, with ice
- 2 x standard United Nations drinking glasses, cleaned.
Due to the mildly unpleasant effects of RPC-XXX-A, it is recommended that staff avoid entering RPC-XXX between the hours of 1630 and 1705, local time. Following this interval, containment staff must enter the anomaly, collect the daily list of RPC-XXX-1, and pass it on to OL-Site-UN personnel for assessment and response. The UNAAC Onsite Anomaly Liaison Office is entitled to receive a hard copy of all RPC-XXX-1 instances and responses produced by Authority staff, and may conduct inspections of RPC-XXX, its containment system, and any collected data at any time, provided a minimum of 24 hours’ notice is given.
In the event of any RPC-XXX-1 be unfulfillable, the UNAAC Onsite Anomaly Liaison Office undertakes all RPC-XXX-3 bureaucratic risk mitigation procedures necessary, and is permitted to call upon OL-Site-UN personnel and RPC-XXX containment personnel if assistance or specific expertise is necessary.
Containment Addendum: Personnel from all Authority divisions Level 2 clearance and a background in political science, data analysis, intelligence analysis, accounting, international law or other related fields are encouraged to volunteer for the OL-Site-UN Remote Bureaumathics Working Group. Involvement in a successful completion of an RPC-XXX-1 request, whether current or deprecated, entails financial and vacation time rewards. Personnel so compensated are required to report any instances of RPC-XXX-2 that occur to them directly.
Description: RPC-XXX is an anomalous meeting room on the 4th floor of the the United Nations Secretariat Building on the United Nations campus in New York York City which contains an extradimensional gateway or portal capable of creating nonanomalous paperwork. RPC-XXX measures 78 square meters and is in all respects structurally identical to other meeting rooms on the same floor, save that it lacks windows and is spatially arranged such that it should protrude more than 12 meters outside the confines of the Secretariat Building's external walls. All attempts to tunnel, drill or otherwise enter RPC-XXX from the outside have resulted in failure and minor damage to the non-anomalous structure of the building. RPC-XXX is accessed through an otherwise mundane doorway in a fourth-floor hallway on the side the building. All architectural and furniture fittings may be modified, altered or removed without substantially affecting the space’s anomalous properties.
RPC-XXX’s interdimensional properties manifest at exactly 1700 every day, whereupon a number6 of non-anomalous printed documents, designated RPC-XXX-1, will spontaneously manifest on the largest flat horizontal surface in the room. The rate of manifestation of RPC-XXX-1 can be measurably altered by altering the contents and furnishings of the room; its current layout, which includes a boardroom table with 20 chairs, three whiteboards, an overhead projector hookup and four empty flagpoles, as well as the frequent stocking of the room with the items listed in the Containment Protocols, have been found to reduce the average number of RPC-XXX-1 manifestations by 2.53/week/year.
The appearance of RPC-XXX-1 within RPC-XXX is accompanied by a series of consistent anomalous effects designated RPC-XXX-A. RPC-XXX-A occurs at exactly 1700 local time every Monday to Friday, and consists of the following:
- 35-62% of all unmarked note paper within the room ceases to exist.
- 24-96% of all potable water in jugs, bottles or carafes in the room ceases to exist.
- 10-55% of all pens, markers, pencils and other writing materials in the room cease to exist.
- RPC-XXX-1 instances manifest.7
- Any hard-copy written responses to RPC-XXX-1 instances, provided they are composed in English and bound with staples, paperclips or other paper-organizing devices, cease to exist.
- All conscious living beings within the space lose consciousness for a period of approximately three minutes. Upon waking, subjects universally describe intense feelings of boredom, mental exhaustion and mild frustration.8
All RPC-XXX-1 documents are written in grammatically correct standard English and follow formats used in United Nations proceedings and clerical work9 and are non-anomalous. Despite variations in specific form and content, their content inevitably contains extremely specific requests for research, data analysis and briefing material on extremely specific or esoteric economic/cultural/political/social issues which could theoretically be of relevance to the United Nations, as well as a specific date and time by which these requests must be fulfilled, usually on the order of 2-6 business weeks.10 In all cases, RPC-XXX-1 instances are signed anonymously, on behalf of a government, polity or national organization which does not and has never existed in baseline reality.
Sample RPC-XXX-1 Requests and Originators:State | Request | Notes |
IMPERIVM AVSTRALIS INCOGNITA | A financial analysis correlating the production of traditional insecticides in Gabon with military desertion rates in Finland during the Korean War. | Request fulfilled. |
The Dominion of Upside-Down Boobies | A 5,000-word précis examining how a minute change in accounting policy in British Madagascar triggered the Second World War. | Request fulfilled. |
People’s Republic of Ruritania | A detailed geopolitical history of the colour beige. | Request fulfilled, 3 weeks overdue. |
Gorblax (sic) | A cost-benefit analysis of the financial effects on the Gorblaxian Scrognar (sic) should Gorblax adopt a corn-based banking system. | Request unfulfilled due to lack of contextual information. |
By the Grace of God, The Kingdom of Heaven on Earth, Empire of the Russians | A marketing/public relations analysis of the effects on the Empire of the Russian's foreign relations caused by forcibly converting the entire population of Singapore to Orthodox Christianity, “by fire and sword if necessary.” | Request fulfilled. |
The Free State of Texarkana | A request for proposal for prospective Caribbean venues for the “3rd Olympiad”, and their willingness to subsidize an Olympic Games run and operated using almost entirely slave labor. | Request unfulfilled due to lack of contextual information. Original document mentions several non-existent Caribbean countries, including Neucibola and Malvinalia, as well as the presence of at least 13 Caribbean islands which do not exist in our reality. |
Kingdom of the Spire Elves | A completion request for the partial outline of a United Nations resolution calling for a unilateral ban of both gunpowder and “biologically or physiologically Human soldiery” from international warfare, as an addendum to the Hague convention. | Request fulfilled. |
Uuuuuuu (sic) | A request for a budget overview of the economic impact of the implementation of a fiscal policy described only as “aa ooee uuua aa”, including subsections on possible investment of “eee ui ui oo”, “ai ao ao ae” and “oo oo ooi”. | Request unfulfilled due to lack of contextual information. |
When RPC-XXX-1 requests are fulfilled in writing and allowed to demanifest during RPC-XXX-A events, and provided the responses are thorough in their attempt to address or expand on the original request, RPC-XXX-2 will occur. This is a designation for a wide variety of positive probabilistic effects, usually involving the sudden discovery of a previously-unknown sum of money or valuable goods in the possession of the fulfiller of the request or of the organization employing that person. The exact quantity or nature of wealth/goods acquired is highly variable, but usually proportionate to the length and complexity of the request. Requests which are fulfilled late still trigger RPC-XXX-2, but at a substantially reduced rate of return. At current rates of RPC-XXX-1 fulfilment, RPC-XXX-2 contributes approximately 11% of NORTHCOM'S annual operational income.
Failure to fulfil RPC-XXX-1 requests in a timely fashion triggers a secondary probabilistic effect designated RPC-XXX-3. This entails the inexplicable disappearance of memoranda, electronic correspondence and paper documents containing requests for RPC-XXX-1-styled research and analysis work. The exact rate of disappearance of documentation is variable, but proportional to the number of RPC-XXX-1 instances left unfulfilled. Since many RPC-XXX-1 instances remain unfulfillable, and have been so since containment of the anomaly began in the 1950s, the rate of RPC-XXX-3 continues to slowly trend upwards. Research into possible mitigation strategies is ongoing.
Document: RPC-XXX and Uittology11: The following is an excerpt from a speech on RPC-XXX and its role in the foundation of the formal study of bureaucratic infophysics by Professor Galen Lee, RPC-XXX AET Lead.
Let's be honest, Bureaumathics comes across as a bit of a joke. Of course bureaucracy alters the fabric of reality. We've all experienced it. But XXX isn't the only example of these effects. It's just one of the best-studied. Look at the sheer number of anomalies the Authority contains which involve the propagation of documents and historical miscellanea into our universe. Consider NuCorp, who, with apologies to those of its employees in attenance, is a multidimensional bureaucratic octopus, held together by paperwork.
[…]
So, what is RPC-XXX? Where does the paperwork keep coming from? Where does it go? We think of the anomaly as a sort of bureaucratic impact crater, a place where some higher-dimensional uittologic energy “fell” into our universe from higher up in the dimensional stack, punctured through it, and continued on its merry way. If bureaucracy weakens the fabric of space and time, then RPC-XXX is a tear in the fabric, an informational wormhole where documentation is free to drift up and down between universes.
It could be a form of draff, or something stranger. We're, uh… still working on that.
Addendum: Incident RPC-XXX-B: At ██:██:██ on ██/██/2022, the OL-Site-UN Bureaumathics Group Office was invaded by an extradimensional entity, which interacted with several members of staff before vanishing, leaving in its place a stack of 39 RPC-XXX-1 instances. Authority personnel present during the interaction (Junior Researcher J██ C████, Assistant Archivist S███ G███), described the presence of the anomaly as being accompanied by intense heat and an overpowering metallic smell. A transcript of OL-Site-UN security camera footage follows:
G███: -but I'm not seeing anything on Korean fudge exports. Maybe the WEF'd have the stats?
C████: Huh. Okay, I emailed them last week but-
[Image vibrates slightly. An approximately 200cm-tall arthropod which appears to be composed entirely of heated metal appears in the center of the Office. It is carrying a sheaf of papers.
G███: Jesus-!
Entity: [In English with a distinct French accent.] Hey, sorry to bother you. Not exactly protocol but we had some stuff fall through the cracks that we're pretty sure should have been routed to this universe. It's all filed and collated, shouldn't be too much trouble.
[C████ is visibly depressing the security call button on his desk.]
C████: Uh- uuuuh-
Entity: Anyways I'll leave it with you. Say, are those paperclips? Man, it's been a long time. Do you mind? No? Thank you.
[The anomaly extends a limb, collects several paperclips from a tray on G███'s desk, and appears to consume them. G███ falls out of her chair.]
Entity: Well, you've got lots of time to do them all, thank goodness. We owe you one. And hey, Merry Christmas!
[The entity vanishes. The carpet where it was standing is visibly melted.]
[[footnoteblock]]
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Containment/AEDF Public Database/Outreach Media/Songs of the Fleet/Lauzon's Michael
Transcript Selected. Downloading… (Estimated Light Lag to Home Server ~174ms)
Download Complete.
Lauzon's Michael
Adapted from Dawson's Christian by Leslie Fish and Vic Tyler, 1989
by an Anonymous Spacer of the AEDF, 1990
Pierre-Paul Lauzon was the Captain of the Michael and her crew
And he flew and fought the Howlers back in 1942
Now the Michael was the tightest ship based out of Oh-Nineteen
And a finer crew the Force had never seenOn patrol at Lagrange Five, keeping watch on Seven Two Two
They were jumped by Soshi gunships who declared that peace was through
As they came to general quarters and they sent out the alarm
Lauzon's crew was sure they'd finally bought the farmNo one living saw that battle though the fleet was quick to leave
When they reached the site they found a scene no sane man could believe
Dead in space lay seven gunships, cut to ribbons all around
But no sign of Lauzon's Michael could be foundThere are stories of the Bodhi, Five-Four-Eight, the bots on Mars
There are stories of the Wellspring, other wonders from the stars
But the tale that chills my spirit, more because I know it's true
Is the tale of Pierre-Paul Lauzon and his crew
Yes, the tale of Lauzon's Michael and her crew[Interlude]
I was second mate on Heavenlea, a freighter of the line
We were shipping pluto-nium to the Ceres water mine
It was on the second watch, the dullest posting I'd been dealt
When the Blue Book ships appeared out of the BeltNow to me there was no question, for they had us three to one
You can't fight three UN killers when your freighter has one gun
So we stood by to be boarded by a party yet unseen
When another ship appeared upon our screenFirst we thought it just a space rock, but the vector wasn't right
Then we thought it might be rescue, but its engine cast no light
When she didn't answer hailing, we all felt an unknown dread
For we saw her heatsink baffles glowing redNow the courage of that single ship is shown by very few
But we never knew a ship could fly the way the stranger flew
Never fearing guns or numbers, like a tiger to its meat
The stranger then attacked the Blue Book fleetAnd the stranger's guns spat rounds faster than any I'd seen before
And the stranger's hull was harder than the heart of any whore
As the battle rent the ether, while we watched and shook our heads
The Blue Book ships were cut to bloody shreds
Yes, the Blue Book ships were cut to bloody shredsJust as quickly as it started then the fighting was all done
For the UN fleet was shattered and the stranger's ship had won
Though we tried to call and thank her, not an answer could we draw
Then she matched vectors and this is what we sawThere were thirty holes clear through her and a gash along one side
And we knew that when it happened, that no crew were left alive
Her markings all said Michael, deep inside us each one knew
'Twas the tomb of Pierre-Paul Lauzon and his crewNow instead of flying off, the stranger then began to fade
First the hull, and then the bulkheads as we cowered there afraid
For as the Michael disappeared, the last to slip from view
Were the bones of Pierre-Paul Lauzon and his crew
Yes, the bones of Pierre-Paul Lauzon and his crewThere are stories of the Bodhi, Five-Four-Eight, the bots on Mars
There are stories of the Wellspring, other wonders from the stars
But the tale that chills my spirit, and I swear to God it's true
Is the tale of Pierre-Paul Lauzon and his crew
Yes, the tale of Lauzon's Michael and her crew
Addendum: Transcriber's Note
Despite its blatant exaggerations and falsehoods, Lauzon's Michael remains one of the AEDF's most popular and beloved pieces of "fleet culture." Though its exact origins are unknown, it began appearing in social events across the Solar System in 1990, and quickly became an enduring ballad performed on ships, stations, and bases throughout the three Fleets.
It was not uncommon for AEDF personnel on leave to attend science-fiction conventions in the late 1980s, and little stretching of the imagination is needed to theorize that a musically-minded crewman might stumble upon the filk works of Leslie Fisk, purchase a copy of the album Carmen Miranda's Ghost, and create their own version of the original Dawson's Christian. What raises real questions is the content of the song itself.
The ships and names mentioned are real, though their historical deeds have been exaggerated. The AEDFS Archangel Michael, a Lillienthal-class NG cruiser built in 1942 and commanded by Austral War veteran Captain Pierre-Paul Lauzon de Saguenay, was indeed destroyed following a skirmish with an over-eager Soshi war party in 1959.
However, Fleet records and the ship's log shows that only a brief exchange of fire was undertaken before cooler heads prevailed. The Michael was scuttled by her own crew due to a reactor leak from damage sustained in the firefight, with Lauzon succumbing to radiation poisoning in his escape capsule.
While the AEDFS Heavenlea remains in active service, it has never been classed as a "freighter", and indeed manned AEDF ships are not used for cargo transport, and certainly not of refined nuclear fuels. It goes without saying that, while the Heavenlea has been involved in occasional standoffs and negotiations with the forces of Project Blue Book, neither side has ever forcibly boarded the others' ships. Additionally, the AEDF has never maintained a manned base on Ceres, though several automated ice mining stations are present in nearby sectors of the Belt.
A more curious historical note connects with the fate of the supposed ghost ship, the Michael; AEDF vessels passing through the Asteroid Belt in the summer months of 1979 recorded phantom gravity flux signatures near Ceres similar to those of an Authority NG drive, and small debris clouds whose spectral signatures matched those of Blue Book patrol craft. The UNAAC and representatives from Project Blue Book have refused to disclose further details about the loss of any of their ships in that region.
Regardless of its historicity or factual value, Lauzon's Michael will undoubtedly remain one of the Fleet's most notorious and well-sung pieces of popular culture.
The following represents a list of the most commonly-observed figures “imprinted” upon RPC-001. The exact consequences of the literal manifestation of these figures in baseline reality remain unclear. More recent additions to RPC-001 have become increasingly vague and unrelated to the core myth, potentially indicating instability or a growth in the entity’s memotic well.
Imprinted Figure | Cultural/Religious Origin | Notes |
Jesus of Nazareth | Christian | Exact ethnicity/appearance varies |
The Mahdi | Islam | Appears riding a white horse, may be accompanied by lunar symbols |
Kalki | Hindu | Appears riding a white horse, initial “appearance” of RPC-001 in 1599. |
A man made of clay/the Golem of Prague | Jewish | |
Maitreya | Buddhist | |
Li Hong | Taoist | |
Kūkai/Kōbō Daishi | Japanese/Buddhist | |
King Gesar | Tibetan | Equivalent characters also appear to observers from Chinese, Mongolian, Ladakhi, Bhutanese, Nepali and other Central Asian cultures. |
Saoshyant | Zoroastrian | Sometimes associated with Kay Kosrow, legendary Shah of Persia |
Väinämöinen | Finnish | |
St. Wenceslas of Bohemia | Christian/Czech | |
King Arthur | Christian/British | Frequently accompanied by one of more Knights of the Round Table and/or Merlin. |
Vlad III Tepes | Christian/Romanian | |
Constantine XI Palaiologos | Greek/Orthodox | Last emperor of the Byzantines. |
Charlemagne | German | |
The Founding Fathers | American | Frequently accompanied by other American mythical heroes, eg. John Henry, Paul Bunyan, Joshua Norton, Uncle Sam |
Inkarri/Inca Rey | Native Peruvian/Inca | |
Elvis Presley | American(?) | |
Mahatma Gandhi | Indian | Several observers described seeing the figure of Gandhi years before his death. |
A gorilla/“Harambe” | American(?) | Since 2016, RPC-001 manifestations have begun to include a substantially greater proportion of pop-culture figures. |
Hone Heke | Maori | |
Ned Kelly | Australian | |
Joseph Montferrand/Big Joe Mufferaw | Canadian/American | |
El Santo | Mexican | |
Sengbeh Pie/Cinqué | West African/American | |
Juan Bobo | Puero Rico |
A room with a single window in a mundane place; light coming through the window is always uncomfortably bright. Any person who enters the room a second time is condemned to, at some point in their future, walk out into the open on a sunny day, stare at the sun, and spontaneously combust. If for some reason they are prevented from leaving, they will combust anyways while expressing regret and disappointment, and any enclosed space they are in will become another Room of Solar Luminance.
Possibly the result of a Malthusian curse on the Authority using some kind of Egyptian artifact?
Rough Outline of the Austral War
So Stage 1 is the initial opening of the New Swabia rift; the Germans do it, and the Authority, who have people in the area because they're suspicious of the Germans (and because a lot of their German personnel have just changed sides) see this as basically the Germans prodding an anomaly and getting killed by it.
They're sending in small exploratory teams to figure out what the Howlers are, what the Rift is, and to rescue any suvivors from the New Swabia Rift. By the time they learn this has happened, the Germans have been prodding the Rift for weeks and dozens, possibly hundreds of Howlers have made it through.
Stage 2 is where the Authority realizes that this isn't just a localized anomaly; this is Bad Shit. They're still operating under the assumption that this is just an anomaly to be contained, but it's obviously a big one. It's at this point they start capturing Howlers and figuring out that they might be a coordinated force.
In this stage, the main attempt is to set up a cordon around the Rift, build containment infrastructure, etc.
Stage 3, they've got field equipment set up and are moving containment infrastructure into place when the Howlers counterattack, and this time they're not scattered groups of random screaming ladies. RPC-543 is written later in this stage. So this Howler counterattack is a big deal because they've started to build noocraft. They have heavy artillery, they're mobile now, they're exploiting the fact that they're much less vulnerable to the environment than the Authority is. They basically drive the Authority off the Rift, and they have to conduct several fighting retreats back to whatever ports they're using.
Stage 4 is the Authority realizing "holy fuck, this is an invasion." In parallel to them dealing with building up a force to retake the Rift, they're also dealing with swarms of noocraft leaving Antarctica to explore the rest of the world. By this point the Howlers have actually set up whatever their equivalent of "infrastructure" is around the Rift. This is where the Authority starts deploying spacecraft and more serious military assets, but because WW2 has broken out their response is slow and disorganized.
Stage 5 is substantial period of time where the Authority is clinging to beacheads in Antarctica and frantically trying to stop Howler noocraft from wreaking havoc worldwide. Maybe they get noticed by the rest of the world as Foo Fighters? They're building up a huge supply of anomalous weaponry (RPC-601, for instance), as well as aircraft and support vehicles to help their troops deal with the cold.
Stage 6, they fight back, using a couple very, very primitive nuclear weapons to drive the Howlers back. What follows is a couple years of nightmarish mobility warfare as the Authority slowly fights its way back towards the New Swabia Rift. The Howlers still have the advantage in direct combat, but now the Authority knows how to counter their abilities and they can attack the Howlers from multiple directions. This stage ends when the Rift is recaptured and the Authority figures out how to close it.
Stage 7 is the cleanup, and it probably takes the longest. There are tens, possibly hundreds of thousands of Howlers and noocraft all over Antarctica and the Southern Hemisphere, and the demands of the Second World War are putting a real strain on the Authority's supply lines, and budget for that matter. This is where they build OL-Site-543 and start rounding up the remaining Howlers.
Howlers and Fighting Them
In regards fighting Howlers, the big thing to understand about them is that they're humans from a reality that is more aggressively Platonic than ours.
In other words, in the Howler reality the idea of a thing, and a thing itself, are much closer to being one and the same. This is why the Howlers are so uncomfortable with physical technology. Why control fire when you can be warm just by thinking hard enough about it? Why bother cultivating food when the act of visualizing eating is enough to fill your stomach? It's also why the Howlers are so tough to kill despite being biologically almost identical to humans; they can just ignore the dreamlike reality that surrounds them. Bullets aren't "real" enough to hurt them, if they're concentrating enough.
Anyways. At the same time, whatever fancy thought-technology they have in their reality doesn't really work in ours, because of that fundamental difference in the way the two realities work. And they're made of high-coherency matter, so they'd constantly be emitting that field of weird dreamlike reality.
Maybe something to do with the interaction between gamma rays and more coherent atomic nuclei? You're literally peppering their body with "less real matter" at a subatomic level?
They're the equivalent of like a well-trained modern military force armed only with basic hand weapons. They're fast, they're well-coordinated (because presumably some of their communications technology still works in our reality), they're not slowed down by snow or ice (because to them it's barely real), and they're strong as fuck (because you can carry out feats of unusual strength in a dream.) They'll charge a machine-gun position across an open field because it's not likely to hurt them, but they're also smart enough to attempt to flank dangerous targets, attack at night, use ambushes, etc. They also know that exposure to their presence is lethal to humans, and they would absolutely weaponize that fact.
The "fear of being set on fire" is a fairly fundamental human fear, ditto drowning, falling from heights, etc. It's the kind of thing that triggers a pretty animalistic, instinctual panic response. Because all of a Howler's resistance to injury is brought about by constant willpower (them literally thinking "this reality cannot injury me"), anything that can trigger a panic response will break their concentration and cause the injuries to become real.
This is why you can shoot a Howler in the head at point-blank range and the bullet will just pass through it, but you can still knock it out with tear gas (because the moment their choking instinct takes over, their focus fails)
Noocraft
Now, as for noocraft, they're basically a Howler thinking something so hard that they overwrite reality to a limited degree, like a meme that is so aggressive that it takes on a physical form. The complexity and strength of a noocraft is directly proportional to the degree of focus a Howler or group of Howlers devotes to it. The small ones are basically simple robots that can follow commands like "follow" "attack" or "wait" Larger ones are closer to large flying machines, can be used to transport things, etc.
The one thing they can't really do is have complex moving parts, because the reality they're based in isn't coherent enough for it. In the Howler reality, a noocraft would be like willing a fighter jet into existence. In our reality, a noocraft is basically an angry blob of ectoplasm that will do what you tell it to.
They look like amorphous blobs of stuff. Which, because it's made of higher-coherency material, is so strikingly beautiful that it's almost hypnotic. The big advantage for the Authority in fighting them is that the larger a noocraft is the harder it is to hide. They're not subtle, they're giant moving blobs of brilliant, impossible matter. So as the Howlers stepped up their production of noocraft, and started making bigger and more dangerous ones, they became easier to locate, avoid and destroy.
The patch of desert had been empty for five hundred years. There wasn't anything special to mark the spot, maybe a couple stunted bushes and prickly cacti. The locals knew there was more of it- they knew to avoid it. They all heard the stories from their parents and grandparents about the things that had been buried there- before the Empire, before even the Spanish- it was cursed.
No one had ever seen anything based on those stories, but everyone who passed it, -travelers, smugglers and the likes- all reported something that felt… wrong about it. Animals avoided it whenever they could. No one who'd owned the plot had ever managed to make anything grow there. The crops always turned up dead. Then one day, a discovery had brought the attention of a certain organization.
"Okay, so why are we here, exactly?"
Silar had to shout over the rumble of the rough ground. The Jeep the Authority had provided was making good ground over the dirt road that stretched way out into the Mexican interior, but it was a bumpy ride. At Site-015 they'd told him they needed his "special talents" to "assist in the investigation", then shipped him out to the middle of nowhere with Alenko- an Agent he was vaguely acquainted with- and an ASF man who'd introduced himself as Presley.
Alenko shook his head.
"I think I know as little as you do, Doctor! But apparently they found something!"
Presley, who was driving, didn't take his eyes off the horizon. Silar got a strange vibe off him. He was always constantly spacing out, as if he was perpetually half-asleep. RPC-162-1 had noticed it too, given his own keen perception. He is not awake yet not dreaming either, the guardian had said, and refused to elaborate. Of course he wouldn't though. He was never that talkative to begin with unless Silar had to press him. Though he wasn't one to stay silent if he wasn't sure about something.
"Hit the nail on the head there," Presley spoke up finally, "A few weeks back we sent an archaeological team out to do some digging, see if there was any truth to pervasive local rumors about a haunted native burial site. They turned out to be true. The team has been digging up- well, they called them grave goods- for some time now. They called for outside help because they've found some anomalous objects."
Alenko leaned forward in his seat, clutching one of the hand-rests.
"Why would they sent two Security personnel and a- no offence, Doctor- an active anomaly host to help with a dig site?"
RPC-162-1 grinned toothily. "A very apt question."
Presley glanced back at them, a glint of something strange in his eyes. The man gave Silar the willies. He was never one to be paranoid, especially of his own people. Of course, his conversations with 162-1 didn't exactly ease his troubles over the idea that anyone could kill him at any moment just for the ring. But something about this told him that it wasn't the ring this time. It was something else.
"Couple days back, some local small-town gangsters started up trouble around the dig site. The team's operating under standard civilian cover, have paid off the local police authorities for "protection", and they're doing squat. The reason is obvious. So, it's our job to go in, figure why this is happening, and above all keep things quiet. Silar and his lizard are here for the dig proper. I was only one security agent they brought along. Thought me and an RPC-601 instance was all they needed. So, we got you three. Our contact is Researcher Jeanne Simmons, OA&S," he paused for and turned his head aside, "And by the way, she prefers you enunciate her name as see-mons."
About fifteen minutes had passed since their ride. They had stopped at the excavation site that was populated by the researchers that were assigned there. Already, Silar and his teem could sense a feeling of wrongness. The other accompanying security agent Calhoun, felt a chill ran up his spine as he placed one foot unto the dreary, arid soil.
"Goddamn. Its supposed to be like ninety degrees here and yet, I've got the chills!" he commented.
"Is that Fahrenheit or Celsius Calhoun?" Alenko teased him.
"Shut up. This whole place is just… fucked."
Alenko did not argue with him about that. No one here liked to be here. Not even 162-1. He huffed and edged forward to speak to Silar, "There is something old here. Very old, very evil."
Silar said nothing because at this point, just about everyone was feeling. Though as he came upon Researcher Simmons, she had the face that teetered on amusement and annoyance. "Find anything good today, Doctor? Anything expensive?" Silar spoke up.
The researcher picked her head up and turned to face Silar and his entourage. She was wearing a brown vest, short sleeves white shirt and standard cargo pants. In comparison to Silar, who just came here with his research coat, her attire was more suited for this environment than his was. It was bad enough he had to stand beside Scales, with all the heat that was coming off from him.
"Dr. Silar, Senior researcher of Archaeology for Site-015. This is Agent Alenko and Agent Calhoun. They're my escort for this expedition," Silar reached his hand out to Simmons'.
"Researcher Simmons. Glad to finally meet you doc," she said as she took his hand to shake. "Sorry you had to be called all the way out from Arizona for this."
The doctor shook his head and smiled, "Nah, I welcome the change. It's not every day I get to step out of the habitat and actually do my job outside of the site. My forte is archaeology after all."
"Which is one of the reasons why I called you," she added. "How much do you know about the Aztecs?"
"You mean beside what I've been taught in ancient history?"
Simmons gestured her hand for Silar to follow as she turned to walk. Silar and his escort followed right behind her as they took the time to look around the dig-site. No one looked like they were happy to be here. If not for the dig site itself, then probably from the local cartel.
"So, what was it you wanted to show us anyhow? Presley said you found objects that were anomalous."
Silar’s gaze remained fixated on the hardened old pottery that Simmons wanted to present to him. In all honesty, there wasn’t anything particularly interesting about the pots themselves. Until there was that one quirk that threw off their entire perception of the objects.
Dr. Silar turned to Simmons with a straightforward expression. "Blood-drinking pottery?"
"Blood-drinking pottery." Simmons picked up one of the fragments of clay with her dirt-stained hands. The ceramic was… mundane. Just a curved jagged-edged shape that could have been part of a pot or a bowl.
Regardless, this expedition was about to get interesting.
"We made an arrangement with a local butcher since we discovered its properties. Initial testing and what not, ever since Presley cut his finger by accident. We were hoping to get a reaction from the pots beyond what we've observed so far. Hold on."
She turned to open a portable mini-fridge and pulled out a slightly stained lid-sealed bucket that held a large quantity of blood in it.
"As you can see, the pots completely absorbed the liquid, leaving naught a stain on it. This one was Pig's blood. But it also works the same with chicken, cow, goat, rabbit…"
"And human?" Silar had to ask.
She gave him a wry nod. "And human. Like I said; Presley cut his finger handling one of the pots by accident."
She pulled out an eye dropper from her person, then placed the bucket down to open the lid. Simmons guided Silar’s gaze to follow as she takes a pinch of blood with the dropper and deposited several drops on to the surface of the pot shard. Silar blinked for but a moment, and the blood splotches had disappeared.
"Far as we can tell, any ceramic from this site will absorb any volume of blood at a rate of approximately three-quarters of a liter per second. They don't respond to any other kind of moisture, unless it's been substantially diluted with blood. Good enough to classify as a Lesser Anomaly, wouldn't you agree?"
Agent Presley approached the two researchers and nodded his head to the bucket. "Do you mind if I-?"
Simmons picked the bucket back up and handed it to him. "Be my guest."
Moving almost compulsively, the Security agent upended the bucket over the piece of clay. For the briefest second, a red wave washed across the table- and then it was receding- and then it was gone.
The bucket was empty, the last few drops disappearing into the surface of the clay. Simmons gave a snort of dry amusement- she'd clearly done this more than once herself. Silar was less than amused and more concerned.
The researcher turned his head to face Simmons, taking out a small pack of cigars from his person. "The really weird part is, that clay isn't increasing in mass. The blood has to be going somewhere, right?” he said as he takes one of the cigars and gestured it to the left of his person, over RPC-162-1. The dried tobacco at the end of the cigar began to smoke as a small crinkle of flames emerged from it.
“We’ve speculated on that matter ourselves since the discovery. So far, we came up with nothing. It could be some attempt of storage but then that would defeat the purpose of having a pot like this in the first place. There’s no proper explanation for all anomalies we encounter after all. Personally, I think the Aztec priests got a little bit cocky with their rituals and carved these potteries as a sort of planar transporter to gift the blood to the gods directly.” Simmons explained.
“But that’s just your educated guess in the matter,” Silar said as he took a puff from his cigar.
Simmons rolled her eyes with a sigh, “Obviously. But I’m not an expert in the field. However, I want your best educated guess.”
Silar pulled the cigar from his lips and let out a puff. He then turned to his left again as though he was listening to someone speak to him. He shrugged, then turned back to Simmons.
“My best educated guess would be that these pots were indeed used to give sustenance to the gods. But they are not a part of any ritual though. Whatever the case is, it seemed as though this was a localized practice. A small Aztecan settlement cooked up these clay potteries to exhume blood from their recently deceased, so they will not go to waste. It accumulates into a more spiritual practice that eventually resulted in these clay potteries developing into the kind of system the villagers had hoped would work to appease their gods. But that's going into Jungian Psych territory and Dr. Apth's more specialized in that field,” Silar reached his hand over to caress along the smooth texture of the pot. “But if that is the case, then why are there no depictions of any of their gods they are giving their dead’s blood to?”
Simmons grew wide eyed at the glaring oversight she had made in regard to the design of the pots themselves.
“You’re right… shit. I did not account for that…” she muttered.
Agent Presley looked over at the pot, then back over to Silar and Simmons. “So… wait. If the ancient folks made these things… then they should have a purpose, no? If it is not some elaborate means of tribute, then it could be… uhh… a lock and key sort of thing?”
The two researchers turned to Presley as though he had struck gold.
“I mean… with the pot as the lock for something in it. Yeah?”
Silar grabbed the rim of the pot and tilted it to look inside the pot to find… nothing.
“Bah. It was too much to hope for. We’ll have to file it under a lesser-anomalous item and store it in Site-016 if there's nothing else to it. But it still doesn't explain why the site around here's completely sterile.”
Scales hissed under his breath and spoke to Silar again, "Bovis stercus. Pluit et mortuos terra manet mortuus. There is a connection here Silar, we are just not seeing it."
"Yes I know…" Silar mumbled as he pulled out his notepad. As he was recording his thoughts, his gaze drifted upward to meet Presley. The agent was still staring at the pottery. Silar was poised to ask him a question but before he could, a burst of gunshots echoed in the air. Almost immediately the agents took defensive positions and the researchers ducked for cover. Silar's invisible friend stood in front of the doctor, looking in the direction where the noise originated from
Presley's body rippled with impossible muscles as he stood- no- rose to his feet like a marionette. It was as if gravity couldn't hold him down. The air around him seemed to quaver and shake- a heat haze poured off him, accompanied by the stifling smell of hot iron. He smiled, with teeth grown too large for his mouth.
"Oh, Presley's not dead, Silar my friend. He's just had his… horizons expanded."
The… thing in Presley's body clenched its fist, and the spectre of the officer's childhood wavered into view, as bent and twisted as its host.
"Fascinating, this notion of manifesting the childhood will. But children in any era can be so, so cruel, can't they?"
The spectre seemed to be wracked by a seizure as bits of it sloughed away, replaced by a half-melted creature the colour of stained bronze.
"Now then, insect. Let's see what that lizard of yours can do against the power of a superior race!"
"Bring that flashlight closer, puta, I can't see a fuckin' thing!"
The dig site was barely recognizable- just a pit full of slightly disturbed earth, still in the pale Mexican moonlight. The men with shovels spoke in harsh whispers- none of them wanted to admit to how afraid they were, after what had happened last time.
"We shouldn't have come back here, hermano- you know what the old women say. This is a bad-"
"Would you shut the fuck up? What are you, a fucking kid or something? Dig, man."
"But-"
"Look, those scientist fucks wouldn't have been here if there wasn't something valuable in this pit we could scalp, no? So fucking dig."
For a long time only the crunch of shovels against rocky earth disturbed the desert silence.
"Hey, take a look!"
"What is that? Fuck, man, is that a skull? No way, not staying here-"
"Miguel, so held me God, if you don't fucking shut your trap-"
"But-!"
There was a metallic clang and a yelp of outrage and pain.
"Jesus! What was that for?! Fuck, look, I'm bleeding! What the hell, Alejandro?!"
A damp wind that carried with it a smell like ancient rust moaned through the low desert scrub.
"Alejandro? Hello? Are you- are you okay?"
There was a soft rustle of motion, a stifled intake of breath, and the sound of something wet spattering across the dirt. Miguel's corpse, drained of blood, slumped to the earth. The thing wearing his brother's body smiled grimly, as a half-melted creature the colour of stained bronze shimmered into existence around it.
"Never better."
TO BE CONTINUED
Armstrong and Aldrin land on the moon, where a Russian AEDFS pilot is waiting for them.
"Welcome to the moon, great speech, we hijacked your TV broadcasts 5 minutes ago and replaced them with fakes we filmed on a soundstage, let's grab some lunch and then we'll amnestic you"
Lysenko made something to impress Khruschev, and it got loose and destroyed a closed city so they Tsar Bomba'd it.
THIS IS A SIDEBAR WOOO