These are mostly just fragments of unfinished projects... I'll put some finished stories here eventually.

I was blindfolded and taken along a windy road. Dr. Marr explained that "the feeling of an unknown location will make it easier to ignore conventional perception of space." He removed the blindfold once we arrived. An isolated cabin, surrounded by spruce trees.

"The isolation will make it easier to alter your mind state," he said, "and it is also necessary for your safety. The Bureau of Intelligence is leaking like a sieve. So many agents compromised... but this location is known only to myself and my research partner. We will be perfectly fine here."

We enter the cabin and he orders me to take a seat on the couch. "Relax, for now." The cabin is entirely without electricity. Dr. Marr assembles a fire in the wood-burning stove, and heats an old looking copper kettle.

Dr. Marr seems to be one of those people who needs a full tea set, along with tray, regardless of circumstances. The delicately painted ceramics seem dissonant with the rest of our surroundings.

"Chamomile. To soothe your nerves."

I take small sips as he explains the concept behind his project.

"When I began my research into, what I term the fourth plane, I was not considering at all the potential for use in military intelligence. I am a scientist, first and foremost. But, I am also a patriot. So when the Bureau took an interest in my work I was delighted for the opportunity.

Conventional espionage has always been a messy business. Establishing an agent in a foreign country... it's terribly expensive, and everything can go wrong at once. A single leak can compromise an entire network of spies. When that happens, the Bureau is left with dead air. The scramble to rebuild begins.

This is a problem of physical limitation, you see. If you want information from, say, the Black Spire, you must have an informant inside the building. An incredibly dangerous job, don't you think?

Science has recently come to the conclusion that the material world, the one we believe we live in, is something of an illusion. Something that monks have known for ages! But it is not hard science and so it was a blind spot for many researchers.

Through my research I have meshed conventional science with spirituality, investigating the transcendent realm that lies beyond physical space. In my mind it is as real as anything else... but of course, how do you present physical evidence of something that is beyond physical?

My colleagues do not seem to believe in it, but the Bureau is warming to the idea. My other test subjects have provided me with... reasonable results. But I believe you can go much further than they can."

"A music box?"

"No. Although many claim that music boxes were inspired by these. The object I'm holding is called a Resonator. These have existed for thousands of years... a somewhat procronistic invention, far more mechanically intricate than anything of its time. Monks used these for meditation purposes... the device plays a single resonating tone, and can hold that tone for days, oscillating with incredible consistency. It can be calibrated to play several different tones... if you followed a certain process you could ascend to a higher plane of existence."

"Wow."

"However, our goal is not to ascend but to transcend... if you want to become a being of pure energy you can do so after retirement. Ha ha."

I was blindfolded and taken along a windy road. Dr. Marr explained that "the feeling of an unknown location will make it easier to ignore conventional perception of space." He removed the blindfold once we arrived. An isolated cabin, surrounded by spruce trees.

"The isolation will make it easier to alter your mind state," he said, "and it is also necessary for your safety. The Bureau of Intelligence is leaking like a sieve. So many agents compromised... but this location is known only to myself and my research partner. We will be perfectly fine here."

We enter the cabin and he orders me to take a seat on the couch. "Relax, for now." The cabin is entirely without electricity. Dr. Marr assembles a fire in the wood-burning stove, and heats an old looking copper kettle.

Dr. Marr seems to be one of those people who needs a full tea set, along with tray, regardless of circumstances. The delicately painted ceramics seem dissonant with the rest of our surroundings.

"Chamomile. To soothe your nerves."

I take small sips as he explains the concept behind his project.

"When I began my research into, what I term the fourth plane, I was not considering at all the potential for use in military intelligence. I am a scientist, first and foremost. But, I am also a patriot. So when the Bureau took an interest in my work I was delighted for the opportunity.

Conventional espionage has always been a messy business. Establishing an agent in a foreign country... it's terribly expensive, and everything can go wrong at once. A single leak can compromise an entire network of spies. When that happens, the Bureau is left with dead air. The scramble to rebuild begins.

This is a problem of physical limitation, you see. If you want information from, say, the Black Spire, you must have an informant inside the building. An incredibly dangerous job, don't you think?

Science has recently come to the conclusion that the material world, the one we believe we live in, is something of an illusion. Something that monks have known for ages! But it is not hard science and so it was a blind spot for many researchers.

Through my research I have meshed conventional science with spirituality, investigating the transcendent realm that lies beyond physical space. In my mind it is as real as anything else... but of course, how do you present physical evidence of something that is beyond physical?

My colleagues do not seem to believe in it, but the Bureau is warming to the idea. My other test subjects have provided me with... reasonable results. But I believe you can go much further than they can."

"A music box?"

"No. Although many claim that music boxes were inspired by these. The object I'm holding is called a Resonator. These have existed for thousands of years... a somewhat procronistic invention, far more mechanically intricate than anything of its time. Monks used these for meditation purposes... the device plays a single resonating tone, and can hold that tone for days, oscillating with incredible consistency. It can be calibrated to play several different tones... if you followed a certain process you could ascend to a higher plane of existence."

"Wow."

"However, our goal is not to ascend but to transcend... if you want to become a being of pure energy you can do so after retirement. Ha ha."

"So I've been thinking - our current practice of throwing people to their deaths in the infinite abyss- while it does have a certain ceremonial element to it, I wouldn't call it practical. I might even call it wasteful. We can't afford to be wasteful. Not under the circumstances. Now keep in mind this is just an idea. A possibility. We don't have to go through with it if you have objections... "

"So here's what I'm thinking. Human bodies have a lot of protein, fat, that kind of thing. Now I'm not suggesting we eat people. Of course not. I just think we could just harvest those proteins and fats and reconstitute them into something edible. It wouldn't even be like eating human meat. It'd just be a tasty, synthetic product with no questionable moral baggage. We'll tell people it's just made from roaches or something. They'll be so happy to have meat in their system that they won't even question it!"

"Now I definitely understand if you're hesitant to explore that route. But please, let's not keep wasting precious organic material. Give the expelled passengers to me, I'll put them to sleep with chemicals very gently; then I can harvest their organic matter for my personal stockpile. Please. We could use the organic compounds for research, fertilizer, maybe even some experimental weaponry. It'll at least be less wasteful"

"Do either of those options appeal? It'll take a little time to prototype the process, but it'll be worth it in the end."

Concrete mixing is the ideal profession for a perennial loser like myself; there is always need for more concrete. I am no skilled tradesman, but none of us truly are. Our work does not call for skill. The walls around us are imperfect, slanted and lopping, leaning into buildings and jutting at strange angles. It does not matter, we do not create them for beauty. Residents will treat them as a canvas for their own creation, assuming they are allowed to. Our imperfections form the shells of the great cultures

"California is stealing our clouds," they say. "No man can own clouds," says California, that cloud-stealing state. We seem to have enough clouds here, I do not care about this issue.

I remember how close I was to starvation. I was no longer experiencing fear, and when I saw the faint trail of smoke wisping through the canopy, I hobbled towards it, expecting death but beyond the point of caring. I was not made for this life. I survived with the help of companions who knew the land, but they perished in a fight while I fled.

He sat alone near the fire, chewing with little care. I did not look towards him, and approached the fire without saying a word. He seemed to be watching me, though not with any real concern. He did not react at all as I lifted the lid from the pot, tossing it aside after my nerves awoke to the heat. I took a fistful of meat...

Only after the hunger lifted was I able to fully process what was happening. I could not entirely understand why he offered me mercy. I thought I might introduce myself, plead for his help, but it was obvious from his demeanor that I would not receive a response. We have never spoken directly. I slept across from him that night and woke to find him gone. It wouldn't be hard to catch up to him that day, as the ground was muddy. I would not oversleep again...

A colleague of mine was able to synthesize something along the lines of an artificial cyst... a few of these, strategically grafted onto the young man's folds were able to produce the desired effect. He sounds like he's been chain-smoking for thirty years... though he is only twenty, and has never smoked once. Odd to see him perform, but I suppose the uncanny nature of his act is what made him famous.

"And before I could think to react he plunged his own head into that pool of magma and I thought that the volcanic air had driven him to madness and death. But he emerged from that pool and I was shocked to see that not only was his head intact, but his face was not the slightest hue of red, in fact he looked more beautiful than before. He turned to me with a joy I have never seen before and told me that he had seen the truth of all things, there was no pantheon, there was only the world itself, we were living on a single living, breathing animal. He said that the magma was the blood of the beast we live on, and through that pool of magma he could see into the depth of the beast's heart. And he said that he talked to the beast, if only for a moment, but even he would be burned if he stayed any longer."

Goran drove a car manufactured by the now bankrupt and long forgotten Alami Motors. Founded by an enterprising set of triplets in Morocco who believed that they had an idea which could compete in a market dominated by wealthier nations by producing a car that could be purchased for only a hundred dollars. They would accomplish this by taking old military equipment from the world wars and melting it down for scrap metal, thus saving a good chunk of the manufacturing cost. Success was very brief for the triplets, who were able to produce a line of bright orange cars for less than fifty dollars, albeit cars with several fairly common problems.

The first being that the floor was not properly secured, and thus anytime the car hit a pothole or a speed bump it could either shift upwards or downwards a few inches. Very uncomfortable for people with overly long or short legs. The second was a tendency for the car to occasionally veer in an entirely random direction, with no explainable cause. Strangely enough, this wild unpredictability did not often result in crashes, and usually ended up with the driver arriving at a completely different destination than the one they were attempting to go to. The third problem was that the engine had a very small chance of spontaneously combusting every time it was started. This tendency would be the main reason for the company going bankrupt, after several long legal disputes.

I was not aware of this brand of car existing until I met Goran, who purchased one back in the 70s when they initially came out. It was the perfect car for a guy who both refused to work a real job and who considered himself a professional Prussian Roulette player (Prussian Roulette is a lower stakes game of Russian Roulette where players aim at their fingers instead of their head).

We have always believed that there was nothing else. There is us, there is the ocean in which we dwell, and there is the light. And beyond that, what else could there be? We have always existed in a perfect system.

The arrival of the humans changed everything. They showed us worlds outside of our own, and in doing so, forced us to try to understand what we are. We have nothing with which to examine ourselves.

The humans informed us that they would be staying on our world, somewhere above the water. It was a slow process of understanding. To our surprise, they told us that they had no natural way to transmit electrical signals. Only their creations are capable of this, and they are not living at all.

The humans told us that there would be a great gathering of beings, of many kinds and from many planets. Many of these beings were interested in us, and hoped that we would somehow attend the gathering.

"How?" we asked. The humans explained their plan.

They have created a small ocean near the gathering, one with conditions resembling that of our homeworld. Creating this was easy, they explained. The hard part is getting us there.

Explaining their solution required teaching us what we are. You are a being composed of individual cells, they said. Each cell is capable of generating electrical signals, and these communicate to form a consciousness. Humans exist as individuals, hundreds of billions of oceans, independent of one another. But you are a single being.

We cannot bring your entire being to the gathering. There is too much of you to move. However, after studying some of your individual cells, we believe we can gather enough of you to create a new conscious being. Your cells are incredibly adaptable, and should be able to reform. After all, you have been forming and reforming for your entire existence.