"We're looking at a Hostess Sno-ball here," Ray says. "The scary looking marshmallow and cookie things with the coconut shavings on them that make 'em look like they were growing in somebody's basement. Andrew, I think something is trying to insinuate itself into as many universes as possible by forcing itself into people's memories with the intention of draining energy, possibility, or possibly even the fundamental underlying solidity of the local reality itself from across the multiverse. It's spreading faster than the Hounds of Tindalos on the trail of Kyle Reese."
For answer, Ray pulls out his Federation holocomputer, turns it on (the security system does still require biometric identification, in this case a five-second press of the tongue against the sensor pad- Ray is a little thorough when it comes to things you can fake and things you can't), wipes it off, and pulls up the names and cases he's gathered so far before pushing the device across the table to Andrew.
Knox, and Duela. Himself, and Opal Winston. Ace, and Roxanne. Spoon, and Regina. Tom Riddle, and Serena Sparklypoo. Captain Ryan, and Angela. Bob, and Lisa. Zuko, and the fiancee. Every last one of the cases is filled in with the most excruciating detail, and cross-linked to a similarly detailed write-up on the reality behind the marvelous female's falsehood.
The last two cases are Rupert Giles and his excessively marvelous niece, and a somewhat sketchy entry on Andrew himself.
"May the central crystal of my lightsaber shatter and I be forced to use a red synthetic crystal in front of every Jedi in the Bar if I'm lying, Andrew," says Ray. "Something is trying to retcon itself into all of our lives and it's hitting us where we live to do it. With the best, most impressive, most incredibly wonderful women it can come up with to fill in all the supposed holes in our own capabilities- and overwriting our own accomplishments to make itself appear more vital."
"We can pry individual people loose from her one at a time, but we're talking about one of the most enduring archetypal invaders there is. Getting rid of her completely... I have to be honest, Andrew. If Darth Vader were willing to loan us the Death Star, we might have a chance. Might. Knowing her? She'd find a way to shield against it."
"Well, no," says Ray. "On the other hand, I'm going to have to say the same thing to you that I said to Bob, when he was telling me about his little sister Lisa, the brilliant half-virus adoptee who got him to theorize that viruses could be good. Which is to say, I've known you for a really long time now and I honestly, truly, sincerely cannot remember ever being told of this girl's existence."
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*Joke, yeah, but he's sitting up and paying attention.*
What do we got?
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What kind of a something? Do we have any stats?
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Knox, and Duela. Himself, and Opal Winston. Ace, and Roxanne. Spoon, and Regina. Tom Riddle, and Serena Sparklypoo. Captain Ryan, and Angela. Bob, and Lisa. Zuko, and the fiancee. Every last one of the cases is filled in with the most excruciating detail, and cross-linked to a similarly detailed write-up on the reality behind the marvelous female's falsehood.
The last two cases are Rupert Giles and his excessively marvelous niece, and a somewhat sketchy entry on Andrew himself.
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*And then looks flatly up at Ray.*
You have got to be kidding me.
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*He can't even say it.*
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He takes a deep breath.
"We can pry individual people loose from her one at a time, but we're talking about one of the most enduring archetypal invaders there is. Getting rid of her completely... I have to be honest, Andrew. If Darth Vader were willing to loan us the Death Star, we might have a chance. Might. Knowing her? She'd find a way to shield against it."
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*And he stops.*
*Yes, he's just gotten to the record on himself.*
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Of course, that's usually the last thought of the raccoon crossing the Jersey Turnpike, as the headlights get bigger and bigger.
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Okay.
*Andrew's voice is remarkably steady.*
Okay, I think you're wrong on this one.
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*Not so much steady anymore.*
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*It's almost a wail. What is WRONG with all of Andrew's nearest and dearest lately?*
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