(Untitled)

[gone_byebye]

[OOM: Ray gets a message.]One of these days Ray is going to remember that he probably shouldn't leave the house with the rocketship scrub pants on, but today is not that day. At least he's wearing shoes. Given the level of fascination he seems to've achieved with the inches-thick document he brought with him, it's probably a miracle he's even

Comments

[blond_w_brain]

"You have a project, Raymond?"

Egon speaks softly and carries a bag of ice on his head. His eyes are bloodshot and the hair is only really comprehensible by immense levels of chaos theory.

[gone_byebye]

One of these days Egon and Shepherd Book are going to meet, and then River Tam is going to get a twitch under her eye that'll never really go away.

"You could say that, yeah," Ray responds, although out of deference to the other man's condition he's keeping his volume down. "An email from a friend of mine who tended Bar here in the past. Eddie Dean. Did you ever meet him?"

[blond_w_brain]

Egon sits down and orders something, and a deep brown glass is delivered to him. It does not, perhaps frighteningly, fizz, but he does drain it in a single pull. His hair does something, and seems to get a little more sanity back.

"Nnnnnng. Great-Uncle Siegfried lied." He shakes his head then returns his attention to Ray. "I'm unfamiliar with the gentleman. What sort of issue is it?"

[gone_byebye]

"You know, I don't think I'm even going to ask," Ray says as the rat arrives with his own tray. He sniffs the coffee and adds a few judicious splashes of the Sky Rocket. "The short version is that there are some extremely old machines whose technology goes so far beyond Clarke's Law that it comes right out the other side. Never mind technology being indistinguishable from magic- we're looking at devices on the scale of artifacts left behind by the Monolith Builders. They used to bear the primary responsibility for holding up the fabric of reality in general. There's another means of support in place now, but the devices haven't been maintained in something like a mole of Terran years or something and the fact that they're breaking down but not completely broken is causing some truly unholy interference. A controlled shutdown would probably be the safest thing if a full repair job couldn't be pulled off."

[scapepig]

A short man, naked apart from a grass skirt, sits next to him at the bar and orders a pint.

Which he begins to lap out of the glass like a dog. He nods to Ray.

"Good evening comrade Ray."