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Penumbra     === To whom it concerns ===

    Who I am isn't important. Neither is how I got this information to you. The information is the important part; it always is. More important than anything else, in this Multiverse big enough that it loses itself in its own scope. Read close and read carefully. This will be your last stop, for the time being.

    You're told, always, that the Multiverse is unimaginably vast. That everything and anything exists somewhere. Everything that is possible has happened, in infinite worlds. But that isn't close to true, is it? True, the scope of it is greater than anyone will ever be able to personally experience, and it is more than prone to surprising those who believe they've seen everything, but the Multiverse couldn't exist, especially not in its current state, if it truly contained all things.

    Some things are mutually exclusive, even if they aren't in the same place. Some things are mutually exclusive with almost everything. The Multiverse has been forced to resolve certain paradoxes before; the pike and shield, and the absence of oblivion, for instance. But the fact that things stay roughly as they are isn't because of the sheer influx of worlds.

    Sector Zero alone contains thousands upon thousands, of course, but the rate at which worlds appear is relatively fixed. We've found the size of what joins can be reliably used to estimate the gap until the next appearance, as well as the relative proportion of them. We've also found that the rate is far less than the previously carelessly estimated value of hundreds per day, during the sloppy and competitive indexing of the old titans. Very few ever entirely escape notice.

    At the same time, worlds gradually leave the boundaries of Sector Zero over time, maintaining a roughly consistent density of places that can be here. We believe it's even a self-regulating mechanism. A single megacity will unify essentially unchanged, but what people believe to be an entire galaxy is, in actuality, missing millions of light years of space. This puts a very definite limit to how much can be relevant to us, and you, at the same time. Sector Zero, or even the Multiverse, cannot simply be so massive that truly unstoppable powers simply can't spread as fast as it multiplies.
Penumbra     In the same way, there is, as far as our records show, a normalized distribution of those who can be called Elite. A world of vastly greater size than another should, still, have many more to find, but not at a linear rate. Fewer and further between, the scale of their reach exceeds what their more densely populated peers would be used to.

    But that isn't a function of their ability; it's a function of where they come from. Trading places, they'll find the opposite experience. It's not a function of their world either; it's a function of that density. What defines the boundaries of an Elite's influence? Mostly other Elites. Though the Multiverse is constantly changing, clashing, altering itself, churning places and people, times and places in and out, subject to fantastic powers and events, it has a status quo.

    There are too many Elites to ever be coordinated beyond a vague, guiding hand, and those Elites that exist as part of a major group are outnumbered twenty to one. The semi-random Brownian motion of them clashing into each other, altering their environments, and being altered in turn, must even out to a certain range of average outcomes, and a rough idea of its boundaries. The more a change expands in scope, the more Elites it encounters, at an exponential rate. Therefore it can be said that the status quo of the Multiverse is, and can only be, whatever it unifies the most of.

    New worlds are, in of themselves, a kind of entropy, crashing against the walls of establishments that stand apart from that noise. But if you graph what kinds of worlds unify, you'll see that it isn't totally random, or even very random at all. Since there's a pattern to it, couldn't you call it a self-regulating mechanism? Why do you think that is? What decided it? Does it have a purpose?

    Of course, Elites are not created equal. How many do you encounter on a daily basis, who make little impression on your lives or your work? How many do you know for a brief while, only for them to reassign, move on, retire, shift out of Sector Zero, or even die? Do you even know where they went? How many have you known of for years? How many persist the test of this line for three years? Five? Ten? It's another uneven distribution. Some of our old allies have taken to it with an overzealous passion.

    'Proto-Elites'. 'General Elites'. 'Prime Elites'. Words that don't have any measurable definition; assigned after the fact. But they aren't wrong. There's something that causes some Elites to stay in the background, some to join the sea of mass Elite motion, and some to stand out in wildly improbable fashion, their gravity only growing over time. Do you think you could quantify it? It's nice to think of ourselves as all equal, but who is it that answers to whom?

    === Missive self-terminates in thirty.
Penumbra     Part of the deal when cashing in with the Acquisitors had been further information on the remaining splinters of the Unifiers. Most importantly, the fragment to which the orb shipments were predominantly going. 'Space Mountain', as Strange had put it. And the meaning of 'our friends' at 'The Zenith'.

    The term could be taken literally. Both terms, in fact. Not only is there a mountain, at which your destination is certainly the zenith of it, its peak rises to such a place that one could easily imagine it to be the capitalized Zenith of many things, in an especial way. Though it certainly doesn't rise into a true 'outer space', attested to by the fact that you can still breathe, it definitely terminates at a form of capital s Space, as opposed to simply sky.

    You know it should be somewhere in or near the Soft Expanse; it has to be, given all the previous locations, but it'd be hard to tell. A slope of almost unimaginable size, curving out of sight at each side only slightly faster than the coriolis of an Earth, defines the region in such a way that it could easily be a landscape if one were to stand perpendicular to its sides. What looks like snow at first is merely the rock itself; some kind of white, gritty, semi-crystalline thing, glittering with endless iridescent fragments of light, whenever the ambiance catches the right microscopic irregularity at the right angle.

    Gravity seems to have called in sick, allowing for tremendous skips and bounds, but inertial is doing a half-assed job of covering for it. It feels like you, and everything else, accelerate much more than the effort you put in, and slow down only with much more time and energy. Surely, it makes ascent incredibly quick --almost effortless-- compared to what should otherwise be perhaps days of steep hiking, but it's a lot to adjust to. Thankfully, the Warpgate, small and stuttering as it is, exists high up already, in the dark interior of what could barely be called a shack, next to the stone cold remains of a fire, and an abandoned drying rack. There is no sign of whoever was here, or how long ago.

    The sky is not the too-soft-to-be-blinding white of the Expanse; and a good thing too, as it'd make the ground almost invisible. You are shrouded in a vast sphere of bright, golden haze, striped and circled with vast bands of luminous clouds clouds, gleaming blue-white stars, and rings of glittering debris, much like as if outer space had lit up with the flick of a tremendous lamp. Below, you can see the gradient fade to a deep, royal purple, and up above, condense into a silvery white. Amber shadows of some colossal construction of some kind, suggest something of immense size at equally great distance, arcing overhead in a way that could theoretically be a crossing of those mercurial world-strands within the Expanse, or an entire, deliberately constructed ring world.

    The presence of a path is strange. Even narrow as it is, the fact that it's been paved with rough stones is even stranger. There's certainly no use for it at all. Spiralling all the way up the peak would take forever compared to just jumping. At occasional intervals, you can see individual, floating hexes of paper thin --if not completely two-dimensional-- light, fixed in space, like road markers or torches.
Nova Terra     Another message. Though there is a bit of a silver lining with this one, as apparently whatever journey the messages are leading people on is coming to an end. So maybe the messages will stop too. Nova won't be disappointed when that happens. Nor does she regret not investigating them sooner. The last one left some sour thoughts in her mind.

    Unfortunately, Nova has to admit that the contents of the latest one is more interesting and relevant to her than the previous. As much as the whole process might annoy her, she does have to think strategically. It may be necessary for her to see how this one pans out, as specific as it is in its mentionings of the Multiverse elites. Indeed, this may be one trip she might later live to regret, so perhaps she should see how it ends.

    Thus, Nova steps out of the warpgate and into the abandoned shack. She glances around at the sight, wondering what the hell a warpgate is doing here, even as small as it is. With no immediate signs of anything interesting inside the shack, Nova makes her way outside.

    The low gravity is quickly noticed, Nova tapping a control on her gauntlet to activate the surface gripping of her boots. So she doesn't go flying off with one misstep. Looking around, Nova has to admit the impressive design of this 'world'. Far from the normal that she's used to. Barring the occasional mission outside of her own sector. Her eyes are quickly drawn 'up' the mountain she is apparently standing on. The path is noticed, suggesting that's the way to go. The slow way, anyway. But it gives a direction. And failing any other point of interest, or means of bringing in some vehicles for faster scouting, that seems to be the way to go.

    Nova takes a few steps, before upgrading to short hops, before upgrading to slightly more forceful bounds. The Ghost has operated on numerous planets, of low and high gravity, as well as in space. It doesn't take her long to adjust to the local gravity conditions and soon enough she making her way up, eyes glancing over the terrain ahead for signs of anything interesting.
Doctor Strange      "Dunno, Not Important," says the Sorcerer Supreme, peering over the missive on a spacious writing desk. There have been times, over the past few weeks, where Stephen Strange has been tempted to contradict their informant, in however great or small a fashion.

    Perhaps leaping through loops of time to stretch out his perception of the missive, to ensure that his eyes were upon it for more than the thirty minutes it would take to terminate, or perhaps attempting to use his will to force events on assignment to give the lie to Not Important's testimony.

    The chair creaks as he leans back, shifting his attention to a laptop on the same desk, awaiting notification on translation of the 'books' obtained from this very same informant. They were essentially all illegible, a challenge to any who would attempt to decrypt it. Strange frowns thoughtfully. "Latest status update shows 76. Kay." Investigating this missive ought to be enough time for the experts to finish their analysis.

    When he steps through the portal opened to the landscape of gently rolling microcrystalline hills, he adjusts to the gravity like a duck to water, and resumes his pondering. What is it about some people, that causes them to take what lies before them as a challenge to be overcome? Others still are driven to correct what they imagine to be a mistake, or to destroy. The shack with the warpgate in it isn't far from his position. Lifting a hand up until his eyes have adjusted to the golden, cloudy-starry sky.

    Space Mountain. There are a number of ways he might travel up the path. The first is to attempt to discover its end-point, high or low, or otherwise some sign of habitation besides the flimsy shack. This, he does through means of remote scrying spells. Orange eye-glyphs open-up along the otherworldly canvas of stars, clouds and planetary rings, making it resemble a medieval depiction of 'piercing the veil' into mystical enlightenment. Assuming it is that easy, then he'll simply open a hole in space to step through. But in the event that it isn't, gravity is under his command as much as space, and he easily traverses it in leaps and bounds. Leaping alongside Nova, in a vehicle or otherwise, he gives an informal, friendly salute.
Roxas Roxas was willing to risk a rental on an out-of-the-way place firmly fixed in space, but he doesn't trust any of these places that come from 'that' message to be ordinary enough to just drive. Instead, remembering the conditions of the last time he went to such a place, he just throws on his jacket and zips it up before messaging Xion to link up with him before he heads to these coordinates.

He's not really paying attention on the way, or when he gets there though. The reason for that is that Roxas grabbed a pencil and a notepad and started scribbling furiously on the way. Even when he's dumped out of the warpgate into a strange and huge environment, he defaults towards the path rather than immediately experimenting with the strange gravity.

    This is only the second time I've been involved in something like this. Well, I've been involved in plenty of things LIKE this, but I guess what I mean is this specific family of incidents. I don't know what to call them yet. For the moment, I'm just going to write this down as a reply while the message that was destroyed is still fresh in my head.

    When somebody tells me that 'who' and 'how' aren't important, I can't help but disbelieve them. Maybe it's a consequence of involving myself with supernatural entities all the time, but the name and mechanism behind a message like this seems very important to me.

    I think... you're relying on our tendency to just go along with things. Because if we didn't, we wouldn't learn or be able to influence anything else at all about this. Right? So I've gotta wonder-- what's in it for you? That's what Mog always asks.

Banishing the notebook with the response he's writing into his inventory space, Roxas surveys the path he's autopiloted onto and looks around. There's Doctor Strange, doing Doctor Strange things. He's passingly familiar with Nova Terra, but he has no idea if her way of handling things is typical to her.

He hums thoughtfully, pausing on the path and looking up and down it.

<< "Isn't it kinda weird that there is a demarcated path when it's not the most practical way to traverse? Usually you'd see... I don't know, markers to let people know where to go the 'easy' way." >> Roxas chimes in on local bands. For the moment, he decides to stick to the path. Rather than leaping great distances he uses the gravity to lengthen his stride without overshooting the boundary markers, accelerating without wholly indulging the grander convenience of the way gravity and physics function here.
Cantio Once again, Cantio's found herself in a strange place. Floating, staring at strange holden clouds and blue stars, trying to figure out where her feet should even go with how little reason there seems to be to even touch down on anything. The temptation to launch herself straight 'up' at that towering distant thing is quite high, but she restrains herself.

She can still remember what happened the last time she let herself go without restraint. It'd be hard not to, considering that she can see Nova launching herself upwards right in front of her. Cantio's certainly considered apologizing, even taking mental notes on how to best do that, but she still hasn't done it yet. Something keeps stopping her.

She made a promise, after all.

Instead, Cantio ascends. She freaks out every now and then at kicking off a bit too hard or nearly slamming into the path headfirst on the way up, but she finds her stride eventually. She alternates between short steps and longer jumps, using the former to aim the latter. She'll give somewhat awkward waves to both Nova and Strange as she draws near, but actually saying anything would be even more awkward.

Then again, so is the silence from her end. At least there's pretty lights to look at that don't seem quite there in the same way that everyone else is. She gives one of those marker lights an experimental prod with a handle, seeing if it does anything and continuing onwards otherwise.
Tomoe A letter has come once more. Tomoe would read it knowing she'd not have long to read it, read it she does though. Making sure to toss the missive in a bin she now has for letters and such that tend to self-terminate. It's just something good for the guild to have really. It also pointed in some things she's noticed. There are quite a few elites form her own world and Guild who tend to hang back from the multiverse proper focusing on things at home or trying to even recapture the lives they had before things went crazy for them.

Still the letter has her thinking about people she's known long gone from the world stage, or just having handled other things.

The Orb shipments had been a thing the last time she's lucky it didn't end in a fight all things was concerned. It was strange to see how those orbs had affected her. It honestly worried her a fair bit.

She arrives at the soft experience and is not quite expecting what comes next. Tomoe was not expecting Grafity to have called in sick. The Salamander takes some time to try and work with it flying, and parkouring where she needs to she also aware she's not the only one arriving to this location. . It would be madness to think she was the only one who had been given a letter. She's soon proven right as she spots Nova and Doctor Strange. She'll keep pace with Nova and Doctor Strange who will get a friendly wave from the Iron Lily.
Xion One mustn't think of a path as a single-direction spiral, even if it coils up a mountain like a restive serpent. A path is both coming and going simultaneously. With gravity so inclined to jump towards a dream, there's room for a little fun on the way.

"WAHOOOOOOOOO!" Xion whoops, as she long-jumps from the crystal-lit path of brick out into the void. After a while of ascent, off into the distance, she snaps back to Roxas' side, grinning from ear to ear.

"It's like what that guy Daze did in the Deeper Darkness. The Expanse is like that, but for... concepts, I guess. Instead of points of light, it's points of certainty."

Crouching down into a low squat, Xion taps a gloved finger to the path. "This doesn't just provide a way up or down -- and down feels a lot harder than up -- but also makes there be 'a path to the summit', right? Without a path to get to a place, how do you get to it? You can't. There's no definite space to 'get to the place', so you can't traverse it, you can't skip it, you can't go around it. There is no 'it'. 'It' doesn't exist."

She rights, flashing a thumbs up. "Since there is, we can leap up it to get to the top! Because there *is* a top. I thought I saw Doctor Strange - let's catch up to him!"

Xion, undeterred by the odd gravity by enforcing her own, takes Roxas by the hand and, having had her fun jumping around, just jogs up the path. Up and up and up and...

It may take a second. However, Xion and Roxas are quick on their feet.
Tamamo     Tamamo no Mae arrives via the warpgate, wearing a fur shawl around her shoulders, and twirling a red umbrella, flecked with the impression of white blossoms. One may assume that it was cold and raining, somewhere that isn't here. Here, starlight and clouds give few precise shadows, and the glow reaches everything, regardless, denying even its use as a parasol. "Oh, well then."

    Still, Tamamo takes the long way up, initially walking not far behind Roxas. "Do you know of those spaces that can be entered only through their doors? If it is you, I suspect you may be quite familiar. I was asked, once, how a place might be so restricted, having only a door without walls, a gate to a place that is elsewhere. What should occur if one merely walks around and past the door? I answered like this. If one does not enter through the door, nor a window, and there stand no walls in which to spy holes, then how can one have entered the room, at all? Here, perhaps, they are not quite so secure. However, I am in no hurry."

    She spies Cantio, but they're far apart. Their particular, unfinished business will have to wait, then.
Penumbra     The assertion that taking the path would take forever is not a light one. Even at a fairly steep incline, the basics of geometry ensure that this is at least seven times the distance to cover, counting nothing of the fact that it isn't nearly that consistent, and the shorter distances that can be moved to not fly off.

    It gives time to do things on the way, certainly, few as there are. The occasional sight of a long abandoned tent, simple bench, or other minor remnant of someone's rest, marks the way, but otherwise there are only those hexagons. Though initially blank panes of glowing white, pressing on them finds that they're both easily displaced, quickly build resistance when pushed further, return to their places smoothly, and can be cajoled to show something.

    It's difficult to put a rhyme or reason to it. The views are never clear and perspective correct, like from a camera or window. They have a strong, predominant, single colour tint and secondary border, and each of them shows a warped vision greatly unwrapped and compressed as if by some sophisticated trick lens designed to lay out as much as possible in orthographic view. They're all 'aerial' views, however. Top downs of quaint villages on grassy knolls, airships flying through seas of sparkling white clouds, vast and glowing cityscapes from horizon to horizon, cracked and shimmering badlands punctuated by long convoys of madcap vehicles, deep underwater towns populated by ominous shadows, silvery domes and rings in starless space. Each of them have a series of numbers in each corner, though there is far too little context to ascertain any meaning in them.

    Getting to the top (not technically easy for Strange, exceeding the range of one portal leap, but eminently doable in a matter of minutes instead of over an hour) finds the mountain peak doesn't exist. Where a majestic spire should be, what would be millions of tons of rock look as if they were cleanly cut right off, so precisely that the perfectly flat ground feels like walking on glass. Considering the measurements of such an event, it's equally possible that it never existed; like the mountain ran out of material while growing up from the ground.

    The glittering ring is wide enough that it could host an entire small town. Difficult to judge the distance of any of its edges --or it would be if the entire thing weren't shrouded in a commensurately vast galaxy of hexagons. Thousands of them, scattered out or interlocked into much larger panes, angled in the rough facsimile of a many-layered dome, though it is far from solid. The fields of them are thick enough in places to have to be pushed through or gone around. Those that interlock into larger hexagonal shapes seem to portray much larger, more detailed views, with obviously marked points, in six different colours, and rapidly scrolling writing that at least seems to contain names and numbers.

    At the top, there is a single populated spot, filled with heaps of empty metal canisters, plastic crates, cardboard boxes, and wooden barrels. In the middle of the space, there is a single sofa, a glass coffee table, and a standing lamp, all very unremarkable on their own, save without any walls around them except the irregular piles of opened storage. Standing in front of the table, looking up at by far the largest grid of joined hexagons, is a thin, androgynous figure seemingly made of the same golden, starry light that fills the sky, including the fade to pink and royal purple halfway down its body, and a solid white glowing head, surrounded by a faint, semitranslucent black ring. It is fiddling with what looks like a television remote, switching views.
Tamamo     Tamamo's journey up the mountain becomes even longer as she stops to investigate the errant hexagons. The first is thoroughly considered, eventually showing her a view, though she's unable to identify the locale, and soon leaves for the next. She stops briefly where others have stopped, calls out to anyone who might be within a tent, looks about for why this particular area might have warranted the extra attention (in having more interesting visions available to it, though she has yet to formulate theories as to what differentiates them), then walks on. It is, necessarily, a good deal of time after the others arrive that she'll join them, but as she said, she was in no hurry. She doesn't expect anything to be destroyed before she gets up there, considering who's arrived. So long as it isn't like that cluster of red orbs, at least.
Nova Terra     The various greetings she gets are mostly met by returned greetings of 'Mmm' or noncommittal nods. Though when Nova notices Cantio, there's a hard stare for several seconds. No doubt based on their previous encounter. But the Ghost says nothing, choosing to continue forward.

    On her way up, Nova does take a few moments to investigate the floating hexagon lights. What she originally thought were there for guidance, turn out to be something a bit more complex. Her assumption is a form of surveillance. Fairly obvious given the views. Though what they're observing, why, or how to interact with them proves to have no answer. Though Nova doesn't bother to spend too long hanging around to find out more. She expects to learn more at whatever destination they're heading to.

    Nova finally lands at the peak, then whistles at the sight of the smooth 'cut'. She's not able to think up any possible explanations for such a terrain deformation that she's aware of. While mining lasers can certainly be precise, over such a large area without even a minor deformation is extremely unlikely. Nova just chalks it up to another Weird Thing of this strange 'world' they've found themselves in.

    Besides, there's more important things to ponder. Like what's at the center of this formation. Some strange looking being channel surfing. Nova really, really hopes it's not a god. Those things are always trouble.

    Cautiously making her way towards the strange creature, Nova leaves it to the others who are no doubt going to get all talky talky with it. Instead she focuses her mind on it, trying to pick up its thoughts with the expectation of learning perhaps what it is and what it's doing.
Tomoe So far the trip up the hill is uneventful for the most part but it's clear more and more people have been looking into this. She keeps coming taking the challenges that come before her as she does so. She's actually having a bit of fun with it, though the views are interesting.

"Are those world ID numbers..."

Tomoe muses as she keeps making her way up the hill.

After a good deal of effort she finally reaches the top along with the rest of the investigators to find a site she didn't quite expect.

"Wait it someone watching ... TV?"

She'll make for the being calling out.

"Hey there quite the interesting view you have here."
Roxas "Oh. Defining the destination by defining where he was? I guess that makes sense," Roxas replies to Xion, who by virtue of not spending the first few minutes writing a letter to no one, is already having Fun with this.

He glances back towards Tamamo, nodding. "Well, yeah. That's how the UG works in general. That is to say, if you're trying to reach the realm of... I dunno, Hades. You've gotta go to someplace in the RG that broadly corresponds to it in some symbolic way. Someplace you just can't walk in and out of. And, if you make it so you could, it'll stop being a valid gateway."

"You can do a lot of stuff with those sorts of sympath--"

Xion seizes him by the hand and pulls him off to JUMP.

No longer having the distraction of writing a letter to "somebody", Roxas carries on at the pace set by Xion. He casts curious glances towards tents and the like along the way, but doesn't stop to check them out as others might.

They just look like evidence that the path is a Trip. Maybe a trip that people usually only take on purpose, like going camping. Having decided that the lights are merely lights, he doesn't get close to them or ultimately tinker with them, so he's one of the quicker people to reach the peak using relatively ordinary mobility as-applied to the environment.

It's only when he has to push through similar fields that it occurs to him that the others might have been 'anything but what they appear to be at a glance', and by then he's more interested in what's past the layers than he is in the particulars of each individual screen.

What's in the middle is... shockingly normal, actually. Roxas's mind flickers momentarily to the World That Never Was, before returning to the here and now. He calls, "Uh... hello? Sorry, did we... just walk into your living room or something?"
Doctor Strange      A finger-gun at Tomoe, then at Roxas and Xion as they catch up to him. There, at the flat, perhaps-cut, perhaps-unfinished peak, he is pressing those hexagons, peering with interest at the views each one conveys. Singling out one of them, he idly commits part of the scroll of names and numbers to memory, provided it's not moving too fast to see without assistance. It'll be a good conversation starter once he meets the custodians of this place, which he imagines must be nearby despite the unremarkable signs of habitation.

    Sure enough, he's proven right, when he deigns to approach the living area, with its empty means of storage littered around the spartan accomodations. "Kind of," says Strange to Roxas. "But it's okay. They probably saw us coming a mile away. ...figuratively speaking."

    --Post-Mission--

    An email comes in from the analysis team, just as Strange sits down in the chair. Okay. Control P. "...there *is* ink in the printer. Jackass." Thirty minutes later, the report is in his hand.

    "Hey," says Future!Strange, before his past self disappears through the portal. "Take a look at this, before you go."

--Now--

    "So this is HEXSYS." He pauses, hands in the pockets of his sorcerous cloth leggings, taking a look around. After an awkward pause, he clears his throat. "I can see why it took so much Essence to make. Anyway. Sorry to... interrupt the channel surfing, but I'd kinda like to know why you're monitoring so many different worlds and classifying Warpgates if there's... no more Unifiers." He doesn't bother introducing himself, because he imagines it's pretty obvious to someone who can monitor so much at once. Talky talky, indeed.
Cantio "Strange... It's like these are all smaller screens rather than just... Whatever they are." Cantio murmurs curiously as she gives one of the hexagons a gentle tap, slowly working out how to get them to show things instead of just being awfully white. Noticing the numbers, she digs a tablet out of her stuff-storing space and starts punching the numbers and the screen's contents into a basic spreadsheet to try and get something recorded about these screens.

With any luck, maybe she can find a pattern, if there even is one. "If this really is the guided tour, it... hm. Maybe there's something to these views, then." She guesses aloud in response to Doctor Strange, still puzzling over the larger shapes with their marked points and only stopping when she nearly bumps into Tamamo.

"Oh! Lady Tamamo. Hi. Er... How did the...?" Wait. Was their arrangement supposed to be a secret? She can't quite remember that being the case, but was it the sort of thing that was implied? Did Tamamo mention it and Cantio just forgot?  Too late to worry about that now, though, since she's already speaking to her. "Uh. Arrangement go?"

Close enough.

Upon eventually reaching the summit of the abruptly flat mountaintop, Cantio's gaze immediately goes right to the strange being with the remote. There's the briefest moment of hesitation before she approaches the figure, holding a hand up in greeting.

"Hello there! Um... Do you mind if I take a look at that?" She gestures at the remote, her curiousity getting the better of her already after seeing the device changing the views. "Just to see how it works. I promise I won't break it!"
Xion The scenic route to the summit is broken up by the leavings of past people -- the *intent* of habitation, even transient. Xion lingers at a bench, sitting down. She pokes her head into a tent, and waits with Tamamo while she inspects a crystal.

Eventually, though, Xion pauses about a seventh of the way up (which takes the Nobodies about as long as jumping up would take) before the black-haired girl sighs, claps her hands, and turns to her compatriot.

"Okay. I think I've had all the fun I'm going to have." She lightly sighs, a Corridor opening in the path to skip through all the rest of the

STILL IN A DREAM SNAKE EEEEEEEEEEEEEATAAAAAAAAAAA

path up the mountain.

Still, at the top, they achieve... Flat packed universe.

"Woooooow, it's like an Ikea box for reality! Lots and lots of assembly required! Um, hello!" She waves, as Proper Nouns are dropped like gamer words by Doctor Strange.

"Wasn't that the thing that was being loaded by those TV-head guys? They were so weird and wobbly. Makes me want to stick something."

Xion bounces from knee to knee, a butterfly knife with a keychain that terminates with no charm flipping out into her hand as she works it around in her hand. "Like there's some deeper meaning that will come out if it's stuck in the right place. Like a balloon! Or a sandbag."

"Actually both of those just stop working if you stick them. Uhhhhhhhhhhhh..."

The knife rotates around her hand with a mesmerizing set of click-click-CLACK-kerchick-click-click-CLACK.
Penumbra     There are no signs anyone remains anywhere in any of the places it seems that climbers may have stopped. The proliferation of them suggests that numerous people were not only unable to make the journey in one go, but had to stop at numerous, irregular points. Some spots simply have benches or polished forgotten folding chairs for no other purpose than to take a load off and stare at the stars. Nobody often comes here, and either they all use that Warpgate (unlikely), or descend in much more dramatic fashion.

    Attempting to mind scan the being is excruciatingly disorienting. Nothing much like a kind of natural defense, but rather a sheer volume of information equivalent to the thoughts of an entire crowd of people, each individually lost in some particular topic of research or important discussion on their phones, each different from the other. A lot of it is math. A large number of terms are just people's names that Nova has never heard --thousands of them.

    , More than those, however, a lot of place names, colloquial at best; Financial District, Inspiration Consortium, Area 52, Watery Abyss, Shorevale, The Sprawl, Living Lands, Vernespace, Dreamer's Demise, Okeanos, Faerie Maze, Machine Imperium, Intrusion Zone. It feels like reading sixty different chess games going at once. Village guards to Apocalyptica 3-1. Cloud Cutter to Hive Node 8-4. Sandworm to Enchanterra 2-9. Jungle Golem to Tokyotown 8-6. Six terms repeat at immense density, recurring over and over without an obvious pattern. Ark, Keter, Moebius, Horizon, Nexus, and Strayed.

    Having 'intruders' causes the mystery figure to turn to face the arrivals long before they voice anything at all. It's slightly disorienting, seeing as that glowing head and black halo make it very difficult to tell where it's actually facing. It gets worse when it speaks to them without words, yet without the usual intrusive feeling of psychic presence. It feels like, metaphorically, a text box popping up at the bottom of the screen. Something external, yet inaudible.
Penumbra     "I don't live here, if that's what you mean. But I am in the middle of something. It'd be nice if you'd called ahead." Upon closer inspection, there is an old, but not ancient, plastic keypad telephone on the table, and an answering machine, lights blinking but plugged into nothing. It seems like they might not have been there before. The collective feeling of it focusing extra on Strange, ordinary remote wielded in his direction like a conductor's baton, is reasonably certain.

    "Is that what you're here for? In that case, no it isn't, but you're not wrong. However, it is a working facsimile. More or less working, I should say. HEXSYS is too large in scope for even myself to access in comfortable surroundings. It isn't meant to be tapped into by individuals. The common consensus was that it would require the input of a faction. Many keys on many wrists. But I beg to differ. Something that can't be done alone is something nobody has tried well."

    "Though it's true that the nascent Unifiers had much potential built out of collaborative efforts, it's an undeniable fact that these contributions are not even. I'm doing it because it can be done, and it will certainly come in handy in matters of competing interest. Organizing Elite ventures by scope of capability may be impolite, but it is far more efficient.""


    "Indeed though, it's been a considerable investment of time and work. I'm about halfway through, but preliminary simulations return results of over fifty percent connectivity." Then, quite an emphatic stare-pause at Cantio. "No. You may not. This is mine. You can't have it."

    "If you've come here hoping to use my terminal, you should go home. This end isn't for individuals of limited means. This is only for administrators. When it's complete, you may freely make use of the user end, and submit your information to the Aspect Algorithm. If you've come here for some other purpose, please make it brief. I don't have many people to see, but you're spoiling my focus."
Doctor Strange      "It was, yeah," says Strange to Xion. "This 'facsimile' is what was built with it."

    "I don't think it's impolite at all," says Strange to the entity. "There's nothing wrong with someone being better or worse than somebody else at something. Everyone's good at *something.* If anything, something like this..." There's an intentional pause, "Could," he says, "Allow Elites with 'undervalued' skills to find fulfilling ways to use them." The pause, and his furrowed brow, and the weight of those emerald eyes, all imply that it could also be grossly misused.

    "I'll refrain from quoting the movie..." The one with Jeff Goldblum. They know the one. "And from correcting you about my 'means.' But only because your vibe is neutral to good so far. My purpose here is threat assessment. Accordingly..."

    Several Stranges appear at once in a flash of green, all of them asking a different question in the same instant so as to distract from the entity's focus for as short a time as possible. With all of them talking over each other in the exact same instant, it may be difficult for someone without the ability to process it to clearly understand--but the entity clearly hears:

What difference in permitted functions is there between administrator access and end user access?
*We* may freely make use of the user end--is there anyone who can't?
Is there a succinct list of criteria for Warpgate classifications?
What precautions are you taking against attempts to forcefully control this facsimile?
Is it open-source?
What recourse do surveiled worlds have should their citizens not want to be watched?
Why do you care about the efficiency of assigning Elite operations?
Cantio "HEXSYS? Oh. Because..." Cantio has a sensible chuckle at the name, then clears her throat to compose herself. She looks a little disappointed at not getting to look at the remote, though she's not too torn up about that. "That's fine... It sounds rather complex, but certainly interesting if the.. Er. Hexagons were any indication. But what's it intended for, precisely? If it's meant to be used by several people at once, then..."

She taps a finger to her chin, glancing around at the rest of the group for a moment. "... Have you considered beta testing? There's only so much testing that can be done when you already know how it all works, so throwing it at a control group of people thatdon't know anything about it might help you discover any problems ahead of..."

She gestures at the telephone, (probably incorrectly) assuming that's just as  relevant and not just a telephone. "... Whatever it is you have planned for the terminal."
Tamamo     As many things as there are to see along the way, there's something to be said for the importance of context. There's so much information, but it's no good if you can't sort and connect it. Eventually, then, she arrives at the top.

    "Oh, well enough," Tamamo says to Cantio. "Though not all has been quite settled for my own account, I have brought the item you are owed." This is not terribly secretive, though it's at least somewhat ambiguous. "Have you considered what use you might wish for it?" It's a bar of orichalcum. The size wasn't specified, so it is a 'significant amount' that can be to some 'significant (personal) use.'

    Though she notices the resident -- or rather, the person who was already here, despite certainly not living here -- she decides not to intrude on that conversation.
Nova Terra     Nova is suddenly assaulted with dozens of thoughts. It's something she's had to endure on occasion, but she has usually prepared herself for it and thus can withstand the cacophony of inner voices. But not expecting this being's mind to be so full, she was caught off guard.

    Nova groans quietly taking a step back as she wobbles from the sudden overwhelming pressure. She moves a hand to her head as she quickly focuses on shutting it out, putting her mental defenses back into place and dulling the flow to a more survivable stream.

    It's takes Nova a minute, but she finally recovers, straightening again. Her eyes lose a little focus as she tries to recall specifics about the information she sensed. Most of it is useless, though a few terms do seem to have stuck in her mind. Though she's not sure as to what their meaning is, she makes sure to remember them incase they become useful in the future.

    Nova is only half paying attention to the actual conversation, though those parts she does catch she looks a little confused about. Dealing with this kind of metauniverse stuff has never been her strong suit, the operative prefering a more straightforward approach to matters. But still it would be stupid not to continue listening as the conversation plays out.
Roxas "Oh, uh... we didn't know we could call? Somebody sent us each a letter," Roxas explains. He can't produce the letter because it always self-destructs. Dimly, he wonders if it's precisely to shake off the sort of sympathetic nonsense he was talking about earlier.

He makes a vaguely perturbed noise towards Doctor Strange. It's not really about the surveillance, though. This is just... weird. Although he can make broad sense of it, it all pertains to things that Roxas doesn't want to stick his hands in that much. This sort of monitoring; that sort of control.

The rattle of Xion's butterfly knife opening and closing rapidly draws in his attention. He sidles over beside her, nudging her lightly with his elbow. "You're expressing things through stabbing again. Also, where did you even GET that?"

He suspects it's mall ninja shit.

"Er, actually... who are you? I'm Roxas," he directs towards the Weird Light Being.
Cantio Tamamo's news, meanwhile, gets a relieve sigh from Cantio. "Thank goodness. After... Um." She swallows lightly, trying very hard not to look at anyone in particular and making it incredibly obvious she's trying not to look anywhere near Nova.

It's less of a fear thing and more of an intense awkwardness, for better or for worse. "... After the incident, I got a little lost on the way. But yes, that's good to hear. Hopefully, there won't be an repeats of that... Oh?" Right. The payment! She peers at the bar curiously, marveling at the quantity and size of it. She furrows her brow at being reminded of the next step: Actually figuring out what to do with it.

"I... Haven't yet, no. I mean, I've thought of some possibilities, but actually implementing any of them is still a work in progress." She admits with a weak chuckle. "It's greatly appreciated, though! I'll just have to get back in touch with you once I figure out how to.. Uh." She gestures vaguely. "Use it at all."
Tomoe Tomoe grins back at Doctor Strange it's good to have him here when there are strange reality things going on. She can't think of many people better in the sector to poke into such issues than him. She watches what is this being doing or playing. She makes note of Ark, Keter, Moebius, Horizon, Nexus and Strayed. Those might be important she'll look them over for a moment as they start to reply to various questions. She pauses for a moment at some of the things he says and she's not the only one asking about being a tester.

"So I see, I'm sorry to have barged in like this perhaps I could help make it up as being a beta tester as well for the user end of things?"

She has run into something rather big and might as well try to get more by offering to test the user end of things here.
Xion Xion has an opportunity, here, to ask questions. To interrogate the machine, to interrogate the person, interrogate the realm, the hearts, the place. The mountain that nobody could quite climb reasonably, or if they could, would have no reason to.

The click-click-CLACK-kerchick-click-click-CLACK of her butterfly knife continues, the whispering jangle of the charmless chain it's attached to adding a metal whisper and scrape.

"Oh! I kept the letter before it exploded! Check it out!" Xion de-inventories her copy of the letter, which is right before 'Message Self-Terminates In Thirty'.

Unfortunately, even if it was banished to the Line Item Dimension, upon re-summoning it simply explodes.

"... Oh. Well, there it was." Xion ho-hums, deflated.

"I think it's pretty cool you're trying to set this up yourself, though! So... To help out, here."

Another thing disgorges from her inventory -- a yellow rubber ducky with black eyes and orange beak. It squeaks in mint-from-box plasticized air sound and smell, deposited by the terminal.

"I hear duckies are magic for figuring things out, but Zexion wouldn't teach me how. He talks to his a lot, though, so it may have wisdoms!"

The ducky stares off into the middle distance, not forthcoming with the hidden depths of its deep secrets.

Prompted about her switchblade, Xion twirls it around her index finger while thinking.

"Huh? Nah, I found this cool cereal, called Blacker Jack's? It comes in a purple box and had these cool licorice-marshmallow squids in it. And caramel corn for some reason."
Roxas Roxas stares at Xion with a rather shocked look on his face. He shakes his head and replies, "Xion... none of those things go together."
Xion "Sure they do! In Blacker Jack's brand cereal. With a stabby prize in every box!" Xion replies, absolutely confident (that she's found the worst cereal imagineable).
Roxas "Where did you FIND those?" Roxas wonders, aghast.

    MEANWHILE ON AFTERUS...

A ragged black carapaced figure wearing brown rags staggers into THE DRACONIAN DIGNITARY'S HALFWAY HOUSE FOR THE PIERCING CHALLENGED. He is immediately shoved into a booth with four nearly-identical looking fellows in varying states of disarray. A hulking figure puts a single box of cereal between them.

Two of them actually read the box. The other two pick up spoons in front of them and start fashioning them into shivs by twisting the end off.

The latest SCURRILOUS STRAGGLER kicks his fellow reader under the table with compliments for paying attention, rips the box open, and retrieves the knife inside.

The opposing SCANDALOUS SOLILOQUIST swears, steals his neighbor's shiv, and stabs him in the hand to make himself feel better.
Penumbra     The Light Being responds to Roxas. "I am the Superintended, Taraharu." There's a considerative pause, in the way that only expresses a tone by unspoken impression. "If you've been sent here by a letter, then I suspect one of my colleagues is to blame. One of the Acquisitor Chairs?" Xion produces her letter, and by that, it is understood to mean 'produces a tiny explosion'. "No, the Hub's operators. Who was the last one active in this sector? Not Important, I believe. Then again, if you don't have anything to show, I only have guesswork. No matter."

    Something really, almost upsettingly surreal happens when Strange multiplies himself though: the Superintended begins answering all his copies at the same time. That is, without a clear indication of a face, or features, it seems that means freedom to talk over oneself by Air Bud rules.

-"A matter of organization. The curation of hex placement, addition, withdrawal, validation of data integrity, posting and overseeing of contracts and orders, moderation of flashpoints, and cataloguing of the Aspect interface, are administrator privileges, who are not permitted to utilize the system for its general functions."
-"Anyone who doesn't measure up."
-"Yes. Aside size, number of connections, and stability, our modern cartography has identified usable and pattern-consistent subdivisions and tendencies within the network."
-"Need I take them? I will if I must."
-"No."
-"The purpose of the terminal is not surveillance; collection and collation of information is strictly within the purview of our department now casting itself as the Hub. Visual information is an abstracted representation for user benefit."
-"Because the Elite --rather, the Elites amongst the Elites-- are my personal interest. Any faction worth anything must have an Elite corps, after all. The term itself is a form of scientific classification for 'those who get things done'. In certain terms, I have vested interests in exploring many of my theories surrounding the Elite phenomenon. In others, you could call it simply gratifying. Like the ideal cultivation of one of those little trees, the pleasing sound of a perfectly tuned piano, or the satisfaction of a meticulously built watch. Other things don't interest me."


    It could be said that it monopolizes the Superintendent's focus, in the sense that it occupies most of those thought-threads at the same time, though it wouldn't be correct to say that it actually exceeds its capacity to keep up. "We do not do beta tests." adds Taraharu. "Showing off partially finished work is for the lesser professional, and attempting to harvest input that we couldn't simply come up with ourselves from the opinions of large numbers of less knowledgeable end users is as tedious as it is needless. It will be delivered when it is perfect. Rather, each part of it will be delivered as it is finished to the best standard possible. When further innovation and expansion is required, one or more of us will make it better than it was before. Continuing to explore the vertical limits of what is achievable by the Multiverse's rules is, after all, the primary shared interest of our small but august number."

    The rubber duck, however, is accepted readily. "You carry around the tools of the consummate professional. Well done. I might have slightly misjudged you." The ducky is sat down on the table, and turned to face the starry sky of 'screens'. "The purpose of talking to the duck is to force yourself to collect and articulate your thoughts along a single verbal channel. Not only does it help organize them, but when hearing your process spoken out loud, most people become better able to catch problems in the explanation, than when the process only exists in floating mental bits and pieces."
Roxas "Superintendent? Of this place, or something more specific? Well... anyway, nice to meet you, Taraharu," Roxas sounds confused, but at least like he means the friendly exchange.

Regarding the letter, he explains, "It talked about... a lot of stuff, but mostly about how the Multiverse doesn't contain everything, even though it contains a lot. That some stuff is mutually exclusive. That worlds don't appear that quickly overall."

"And," he scratches his head, "that universes with things like intergalactic empires tend not to be that big once they come here. And things about the status quo of the Multiverse. It was a lot to take in to have it blow up immediately after the first read-through."
Xion Xion is quite pleased when the rubber ducky is taken, nodding along with the explanation. "Even if it makes perfect sense to you, heads are weird! They're big jumbles of thoughts and wants and will! When you make it fit for spoken word, you have to line up everything in a row, and that helps you think better about it!"

Xion blinks a few times, looking around the area like it's a new day. The strange, empty-feeling dev environment area.

"Previously we had to do something... Like get a thing from a dangerous place, or do one of those escape rooms."

Xion summarizes poorly.

"This time, uh... I think we were just going and learning. Um... Mountain of Wisdom, what's your wisdom?" Xion smiles in the 'I really hope that's the answer and would love it to be correct'.
Tomoe Tomoe had made her offer about being a beta tester, how could she not?

"So someone you know is behind the letters? I won't be trying to pry. The letters kept self-destructing I had to get a reinforced trash can for them."

She's serious about that but also amused. She falls back into listening for the moment. She gets some better idea about it the thought son Elites? She'd never really thought about it much. Tomoe just kept going really and hasn't stopped.

Even if many of her closest friends are focused on Earth and what it's become now.

She'll look to Roxas for a moment "You raise an interesting point. Then there are strange things like with my earth which is turning digital far as we can tell."

Xion then brings up they were always doing something with each of the locations the letters brought them to.

"Xion? Maybe this time it's to think on why we do what we do or the multiverse at large?"
Tamamo     "Of course," Tamamo cheerfully answers Cantio. "You may take as long as you wish, as it is yours to do with as you wish. Although I may be often curious, one need not rush to answers."

    Similarly, she waits for a clear moment before saying, "Taraharu, is it? I am Tamamo no Mae. Or... did you already know this? If you did not expect our arrival, then, perhaps not?"

    She nods to Roxas' explanation of the letter. "A mysterious missive, more so for that the sender appears to feel it necessary we learn 'something,' yet without saying the purpose of their lessons. Or is it that the lesson is given plainly, and the location is meant to prove the claim? 'There is something here, and it is important' is clear enough on its own, yet this is not a plausible motive for such varied contacts as have been sent what is, I do presume, the same letter."

    Putting that aside (and glancing over the rubber ducky), Tamamo asks, "Of these things you seek to deliver, should we expect some piece of it to be delivered soon?" If nothing else, she takes it as obvious that they were sent here to learn about this system, and if it isn't in a state of imminently completing something, then there wouldn't be a need to learn about it right now. "Might you describe the first of these 'user-accessible' functions, for our foreknowledge?"

    Hearing a bunch of tightly overlapping lines of answers is difficult, but there was one term that caught her attention with its audible capitalization. "'Aspect interface,' is this a matter only of administrative concern?"
Doctor Strange      Strange can vibe with Air Bud rules remarkably well, it seems, because none of them seem confused or put off in any way when the entity speaks all at once. In fact...

Admin and user access mutually exclusive. Got it.

'Measure up' to what? Is reaching the user terminal gonna be a challenge in itself? Something for 'the elite of the elites?'

They're certainly not all uniform. I guess it was only a matter of time before there was nomenclature. Got anything I can use to brush up on it?

Should you be concerned about fight idiots? Mm. Not my baby. But if I were you, I'd account for people like the Tempest. And in a more subtle, fight-idiot-deterrent way than littering the front lawn with stuff to get 'em all excited.

Not open source. Kay. Makes sense.

Not surveillance either. Kay. Do you mind telling me about the nature of data being gathered?


    "Yeah," says a Strange after a brief pause, nodding to Roxas. Having a rewind button for exploding missives is nice.
Cantio 'You may take as long as you wish, as it is yours to do with as you wish. Although I may be often curious, one need not rush to answers.'

"Thank you, Lady Tamamo. There's a lot of stuff I'm still hoping to accomplish, so I wouldn't mind talking through some of that sometime." Cantio replies with a light chuckle, although she lowers her voice a moment later. "I mean, within reason. There's... Um. Certain things that certain people might not be so... Er. That they might try to..." She trails off, already looking anxious for some reason before shifting her attention elsewhere abruptly.

'We do not do beta tests.'

Drat. So much for getting her hands on this... Thing. The temptation to dig further is still pretty evident in Cantio's eyes, but she shifts her attention to the missive instead as the topic at hand seems to be headed that way.

"The fact that those missives /keep/ blowing up is still rather strange in itself. It didn't seem like it'd be something... Worth blowing up? I mean, if they wanted so many people to come here to look into..." She gestures at Taraharu's entire area of operations. "Uh... All of this here, maintaining privacy in such a way seems a little much. Unless the wisdom is... Trying to see how much we could retain of it in one sitting?"

She doesn't sound particularly convinced by the time she finishes that sentence.

Breathing in slowly, Cantio paces around briefly to gather her thoughts before turning to Taraharu again. "Are you confident you could come up with that many solutions yourself? Er. Yourselves? It's exactly because of less knowledgeable end users that testing big projects is so important. You know your own system inside and out, but idiots thr-"

She pauses briefly. "... Less sophisticated users throwing whatever looks cool at the time into the system, even if it's not intended to go in at all, could uncover all sorts of bugs that might not be obvious to you." Cantio's clearly trying to sound like she's suggesting something, but that glint in her eye is definitely one of someone that just wants to mess with stuff early.
Penumbra     "The infinite size fallacy. An appeal to the idea that, because the Multiverse is functionally infinite, something is inevitable, or impossible." appears to be Taraharu's confirming reply to Roxas. "It's something that has blinded many in the past, and stymied our understanding and successes. A match of chasing things that don't exist coupled with refusing to pursue options right in front of you, because one should exist in infinite worlds and the other couldn't possibly."

    The forthcoming reply to Tamamo is polite enough, for the clashing tones of 'knowing too much' and 'being startlingly mundane' going on. "I'm aware, roughly, of who you are. It doesn't require any special talent; just the dedication to keep abreast of developments that don't necessarily concern you at that exact moment. Increasing literacy of current events between Elites is something else I'd like to encourage."

    "In the interests of our theme today, some of you are worth knowing more about than others, whether that's because of deeds done, aims evident, threats or benefits potential, or modeling as to how long I might expect you to be around. I'm not a god, but I have considerable time and focus on my side. Why it is that we use the vague label of 'Elite' across a range of types from those who die and disappear with no great consequence, to those who defy not only death, but common sense, for a decade or more, and all those who slip into irrelevance or shy away from the path at some point in between. This is part of what it means to consider inequalities."

    There's a slight dovetail of tangent for other practical purposes in meeting here. "Age, activity, and accomplishments, aren't the same thing, but individual meters of a holistic totality. All of them add up towards a confirmation of 'Elite', but which comes first? Is it a special phenomena about one that enables them? Or simply we attribute after the fact, like a false exceptionalism? Assuming all Elites are somehow equal by holding the same label, that there are practical limits to what they can do without sufficient evidence, that the challenges they face even out to an ordinary and static metric because the Multiverse has yet to collapse; these are artifacts of short-sightedness and professional chauvinism."

    "Ideally, very soon." the Superintendent finally answers Tamamo, then Cantio, specifically, more concretely. "In all likelihood, many of you were sent here to learn a hard lesson. Insatiable curiosity, greed, arrogance, to be tempered by reality, and put in perspective next to the enormity of our work. Your contact has an eye for greater patterns, but, I think, underestimates how flexible Elite thinking can be at times. But even then, we're still nominally allies. They should have as much an interest in seeing the HEXSYS integration as myself."

    "I'm not the only one working on this problem, though I'm certainly amongst the most foremost. Lacking an ideological clique other than the purest expression of the Unifiers' most pure expression, the visionaries that deem each other worthy of keeping in contact, even after the faction's dissolution, are simply going by the great work's previous codename: Zenith."
Penumbra     "Ultimately, there are certain things that only certain Elites can accomplish; it isn't a matter of specific skills or powers or experiences, but the nature of 'Eliteness' itself. The way in which an Elite becomes 'more'; the process by which they gather the Multiverse into themselves, and by which the Multiverse recognizes them as a valid agent of change, which stands against the random, chaotic motion of all its unified worlds, attempting to average out, and find their ground state. We have our eyes on certain others. As I'm sure the others do."

    There's a long pause for the ultimate question of being asked to describe a function concretely though. For this kind of being, it's no doubt twenty times longer on the inside. "The HEXSYS is not strictly something of our creation. It is an apparatus built to comprehend and access something we believe is intrinsic to the Multiverse, focused on Sector Zero in particular. If you've followed along this far, you should have some idea. The groundwork involves cataloguing, connecting, mapping, and describing worlds as they unify, providing a curated feed of comprehensible and user-pertinent information about them, creating up-to-date models on conflicts and private interests, and securing Elite work in the right place and the right time, for rewards they might otherwise have to find by accident and scavenge in the field."

    A venture of discovery, architecture, intelligence, connectivity, conflict and exceptionalism. In other words, the Zenith group believe the right terminal will naturally reveal the structure of the Multiverse in a digestible format to those with the capacity, and should naturally demonstrate and support the organically formed ranks of Elites accountable to Elites within it. And, of equal importance, document the Resonance phenomena we've recently observed. I believe you've already made trade arrangements with my contact with the Acquisitors on that subject."

    "Once enough Elites have joined enough 'hexes' to the main grid, and discovered, collected, traded, contracted, and fought to a certain critical mass, we believe the purpose of the Resonance phenomena will be revealed. The Aspect system is, until that time, only a prototype theory. But if we can unlock its secrets, it would represent the most direct means invented so far, for Elites to accumulate and integrate the specific traits of 'Eliteness' in the forms they desire."

    Rather than continuing to split huge forks of focus for Strange, Taraharu takes it all rather much at once, for having answered the bulk of it already. "These terminals will be widely available once installed. I strongly predict that natural selection will sort them. Some --the locally limited, the fresh-faced, those of modest means-- will naturally use them to connect themselves up the chain to those more like yourselves, while those at the top will naturally come to grow their influence and accumulate as much control of the system as they are able to. Your challenge, I think, will inevitably be each other. As it always has been, hasn't it?"

    "Even if it comes in the form of fighting --and I anticipate much of it will-- that in of itself is proof of quintessential 'Elite-ness'. Conflicts of interests that are won with dramatic clashes of swords are much more sustainable, and more affirming of your 'reality' within the Multiverse, than pontificating about flinging magical mcguffins and nuclear weapons at each other from an armchair."
Penumbra     The Superintendent is still weirdly insistent about the beta thing though. "The idea that less-able users can perceive things that geniuses cannot is an old, absurd tale. Fresh perspectives are useful; which is why the Zenith works as a group. I'll tell you an absolute truth: There are no bugs in the Multiverse. It is a self-correcting system. What appears sloppy on the surface is more elegant within than you'd imagine. Please realize your position. If you continue to be a nuisance, there are numerous ways I could have you removed right now."
Xion Text washes over Xion, endlessly. She has a recorder app running on her phone. It pools and eddies around her, not requiring her input or creating further questions. They begin and end their own thoughts.

All except one. All except the last one.

Xion raises a finger, questioningly, as her brows pinch together. "So... Are we being a nuisance right now? There's no quests you need done, or anything?"

"And what happens if we're not a nuisance? Do you have cool prizes?"
Tamamo     "You may call on me as your own curiosity requires," Tamamo says to Cantio. She continues to eye her during that hemming and hawing, but doesn't press. Though they've met quite a few times, now, mysteries remain, and she can't yet guess what that's about. It'll have to be discussed later.

    "Ah, so the matter of those orbs is quite recent." She's intuiting that connection. "That does explain, somewhat. Oh, but not so recent as to not have already made them into weapons. This is also true, yes? For what else might they now be used, I wonder? Surely they have been more than a matter of curiosity, and mere experimentation."

    There are several things she refrains from commenting on, because it's enough to start to see what someone's about, without making a show of it. She doesn't need to correct others on a natural, but mistaken, impression of what she's about, either.

    "This is, I suspect, a warning of many quests to come, Xion. Along with that, it is an advisement to be, shall we say, 'choosy.'"
Cantio That's a lot of info to take in at once. Cantio actually settles down as she tries to take it all in, not even responding right away to try and process everything. Is this Superintendent the source of their missive?

Based on some of what they say later, probably not. The mention of them being allies with said contact, though, has her visibly trying to connect some dots in her head through vague mouth motions that don't really lead anywhere, likely because there's no actual sound coming out thanks to not knowing what those dots even are.

A lot of what's being said also makes her shrink back slightly. Not from intimidation or fear, though, but because of something visibly gnawing at her from the inside. Something that's been there for a while, even, and dragged her flailing and screaming into things she still barely understands.

There's also that rather pointed response to her poking her nose in too hard, and that has her turning just a shade or three paler. "G... Got it. This is... Yeah, that's a lot to take in. Finding out more about those strange resonance.. Orb... Things wouldn't hurt, both for understanding how it all works and just seeking our own goals. And if we'll be fighting not just the orbs, but also each other? Then I'll be..." It's taking her a minute to get her gut out of her throat. "I'll be looking forward to seeing the finished work, then. And if-When it comes down to challenging each other, I'll..."

Cantio takes a look around at the gathered Elites, looking from person to person a little too quickly. She starts to say something, then holds a finger up in the universal symbol of "one moment" before shuffling off to the side somewhere decently close, yet far enough away that she's not quite in (regular) hearing range.

It's no use. Her gut's still in her throat. She opens up a pixelated portal into her dimension of stuff-holding, sticks her head right in there until it disappears, and does a bad job of hiding a brief retching session.

And then she's back! Still pale, but putting on a brave face. "I'll be coming out on top, so please look forward to that." It's a weak boast made only weaker by seconds in the past, but still a boast. Only then does she turn back to the Superintendent. "These terminals. They won't be too fragile, will they? To account for... Um. Explosions, collateral damage, that kind of stuff."
Tomoe Tomoe will pop out her own smartphone from her inventory, she's recording things for later reference but the whole deal this being has to say is very enlightening. She never thought about some of the support structures much if at all. The HEXSYS comment comes up important to her. Also the intel on various worlds and getting elite to be where they need to be. There's a lot of serious things here.

"You hit on some points I have noticed from my time in this sector."

She looks over to Tamamo for a moment.

"That's a good way to put it Lady Tamamo."

She also takes a moment to look at Cantio for a moment. She watches her go off but thinks much of it.
Roxas Roxas can't seem to tell whether HE'S actually being threatened or not, and Xion is quick enough to ask the first question that's relevant to him that he mostly lapses into silence for a little while. He mumbles, "So some people went looking for things that might not even be there, ignoring the stuff that was there and more available, because somewhere it HAS to be there? I guess... it makes sense that some people wouldn't be able to settle. Isn't that sort of natural, though? That powerful people would be less likely to accept half-steps, if it was conceivable that a full step is highly likely? I guess time's a factor, too..."

He shakes his head at nothing in particular, but glances over towards Cantio with some concern. "But... alliances were laid out as a thing that would happen. And you don't sound like you really want the thing you're describing. Being 'on top'... that's never really been an important thing to me, I think."

Smiling up towards Taraharu, he asks, "Which I'm sure is one of those things that alters how far an elite goes in your estimations, right? People's possibilities aren't infinite, either. Some people are satisfied with less... or can't make certain decisions."
Doctor Strange      All of the Stranges vanish, save one. His expression is mildly pained, as he reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. His scarred fingers soon spread across his entire face, however, as he rubs his eyes. "We were doing relatively okay... and then we moved from 'nomenclature' to 'hierarchy.' And 'natural selection.' Sheesh," he grumbles in that deadpan baritone.

     "The kind of cultivation you're describing, the kind of knowledge that understanding the Resonance would permit... I do agree, it's something that should be earned."

     "I also think," he says, hands folded behind his back, "That you're inviting a mess by making a contest out of it. A big mess. When the keys behind power and knowledge are 'who can hold onto it the longest' instead of 'who can be trusted not to irradiate the water supply' you invite the worst sort of people."

     He pauses, glancing over at Roxas, giving a thumbs up. "Good. It shouldn't be. Unless you're, like... playing a game or something. But this isn't a game."

     Frowning slightly after Cantio's question, he does ask one along similar lines. "Tell me that they're at least gonna be far away from settlements and population centers. Or is that part of the experiment too?"
Penumbra     "Slightly." the Superintendent says to Xion, without hesitation. "But I don't mind guests very much when the subject is only valid and educated questions. If you absolutely must have something to do, I can find something for you." With that, Taraharu turns back towards the hex screens, and waves the plastic TV remote around a little, clicking and fiddling in ostensibly extremely mundane ways which, nevertheless, shift, rotate, break apart, and reconstitute the grid, in three dimensions, forming something roughly analogous to a hollow ring with six branches.

    "The orbs --the 'essences'-- yes. We don't know for certain how long, but they're definitely no older than the Soft Expanse itself. I personally believe them to be a form of concentrated Multiversal quintessentia --or rather, a byproduct of that unshaped potential breaking down-- like blots of oil bubbling to the surface of water. Take my advice, and don't be too distracted by the thing you can hold in your hands. Though they'll no doubt be a useful tool in future, they aren't an efficient way for someone such as yourselves to explore the concept of, or accumulate, Resonance. Those solid manifestations are an ideal way to examine these mechanics, and theories, in a vacuum, precisely because they interact so little with Elites themselves."

    "Indeed, though, I do mean that you should be choosy. Put another way, I could say that you won't have the luxury not to be. Though some might naturally want to be friends with all parties, there's only so far that attitude can take you, when those parties sometimes want mutually exclusive things. Whether you compete or cooperate is of course your own choice; all histories have well-documented cases of the benefits and drawbacks of either."

    The Superintendent gestures vaguely in Cantio's direction while preoccupied, but without physical motion of its silhouette, rather, suggesting the idea by the more coordinated cast of natural motion of the stars within that luminous container. "The terminal isn't a physical thing. It must, by necessity, be the exact opposite. The purpose of a user interface is to allow a user to understand and interact with a system too large or complicated to do so directly; a computer has a monitor and keyboard because the people who designed it weren't capable of manipulating and reading transistors on a circuit board with their hands and eyes. When it comes to the system that is Sector Zero --and, the systems behind it-- there are already a number of prototypes in testing to determine the best way to abstract them. Aligning our measurements and values with the three supertypes of Resonance observed in the wild has been to our benefit, as has boiling down available relations and reactions to a system of token exchange. Like cards, or game pieces, if you will."

    "Here." says the Superintendent, pulling up and magnifying a hexagonal view that, far from showing anything useful, appears to be some sort of messy Dali painting, glitched out and flickering with chunks of moving distortion. It takes a while to realize that it, too, is displaying a real place. "This is an unsorted Warpgate terminus between Zones Keter and Moebius. Current designation: JuMbLeD. If you're antsy for something to do, heading there and sorting the phenomenon should demonstrate what I mean. I'll even arrange a suitable card. Most of you must have built up a significant buffer of Resonance from being lead around by those letters."
Penumbra     The response to Strange is unbothered. "If you don't like those terms, I can use others. But I think you're making several assumptions based from faulty, if understandable, standpoints. Natural selection is not inherently exclusionary or a tool of bias just because it is wielded as a cudgel by people who want one of those. Coming to blows is not inherently juvenile just because people develop the ability to settle things with words later in life. It's very ordinary that those just getting their start in the Multiverse would prefer to get their toes wet by trading their time and skills to those with more experience and ambition than they. In fact, your kind --the ones who jump right into the deep end and take it upon themselves to do the kinds of things you do-- is, relatively speaking, very rare."

    "You've also assumed that, because this system necessitates some degree of growth through competition to function, it is built, implicitly, to incentivize and reward aggressive, antisocial, monopolizing, manipulative, and other negative utility behaviour. The fact is that even harmless ideas need to be pushed into the wider arena of discourse to reveal their merits and maluses. People don't grow unless they're challenged, whether by others, their environment, or themselves."

    "You could say that the process of proving one idea, or cause, or effort, more valid and true than the other, is not a function built into the system, but rather a demonstration of the system's existence. It is a necessary element for the design to mature, and to advance our understanding; it isn't something arbitrarily chosen to crown a king on the hill. The nature of it, in the first place, is to determine the relation between 'Eliteness', the limits of one's personal sphere of reach, and one's ability to push back the mutually exclusive borders of other paradigms, and other Elites. Fundamentally, we're quantifying limitations, and how to exceed them. Which means it simply isn't possible to have a single holder of all the cards in Sector Zero."


    Finally, Taraharu sits down on the sofa that is just north of 'shabby', picking up a yellow phone book from somewhere 'off-screen' and leafing through it with glowing light-fingers. "We all know what happened the last time that Sector Zero collectively came to the arrogant 'realization' of non-competition, after all. The delusion that the Multiverse was too big for any one person to meaningfully affect, and the flawed conclusion that the only logical move, thusly, was not to play. That survival would hinge on sublimating the identity and uniqueness of an individual or a world into a larger, blander whole. In the process, all they did was sacrifice their potential before it could take shape, and torture the mechanisms of the Multiverse into serving a sort of totalitarian 'static-ness', until they broke."

    "Vague goals, elusive dreams, stumbling randomly from crisis to crisis and doing the best with what you have on hand, discovering worlds piecemeal as they happen to drift before you, short-lived friendships and unfulfilling rivalries, petty conflicts, shallow monetary rewards, goals beyond your reach, the tedious patterns of those who never learn, things that change hands only to change right back again, hard work that leaves no imprints and makes no difference, the desire to grow stronger and more complete without being able to measure yourself against anything, the experience of meandering through Elite work hoping that you might one day trip across something that will enable you just the right way; if you're tired of these things, then you're in good company. I challenge you to think about it, at least. You'll definitely understand a little better once you've filled your first hex."
Doctor Strange      "Wow," says Strange, at the end of a brief pause. "I'm impressed. You answered all of my concerns... more or less satisfactorily." He clears his throat. Despite his present raised brow, there were a few points of evident contention throughout Taraharu's rebuttals.

     "Which is a lot better than I expected. I don't believe you're doing this in bad faith... so I'll settle for 'keeping an eye on it' in my recommendation. As for your challenge..."

     He shrugs. "Yeah. Sure. Why not. Nothing like first hand experience." Wheeling around to face Xion, "Mind if I tag along for..." There's an inclination of his head towards the hex with the glitched-out, warped landscape. "...that?"
Tamamo 'We all know what happened...'

    Tamamo surreptitiously glances side to side, from figure to figure.

    "A token exchange, is it? Some system of trade, or reward for work accomplished? And... 'hexes.' I suppose, at this point, it would be as swift to learn through experience, rather than to continue to question until every term is explained in full detail. It is not as if my interest has yet to be drawn to the hook, whether the bait is well understood, or otherwise." Her shrug is, at least a bit, elaborately performative.
Tomoe Tomoe gets some answer she didn't expect out of Tarahaur as they further explain what they are up to somewhat or at least what their plans will involve. She muses for a moment thinking about what they said on competitions.

"True there's also those who like it sporting but I never been accused of being one of the more insightful sorts I admit." She thinks more about things.

"I do think I have a lot to think about with what you said. I have been at this a long time, it may just be I don't know how to stop. Yet I will keep going If I wasn't like that I'd be dead a long time ago."
Cantio `And you don't sound like you really want the thing you're describing.`

Cantio freezes up for a moment as she listens to that, letting it bounce around in her head for a while as she tries to come up with some kind of believable response to that. "It's something I need to do if I'm going to create something better than just... Something better than just what's 'good enough' for my people to survive."

It'd probably sound more believable if she didn't take so long to actually say it.

"Having shared goals in holding or obtaining these terminals would be really nice, though. It's like they said, though." She gestures at Taraharu, only some of her anxiety subsiding following the Superintendent's continued explanations. "About the mutually exclusive things thing. At least we don't have to worry about breaking the Terminals, right? Or this Resonance stuff, if it's that... Non-physical? Although if they're near people"

She still manages an awkward chuckle at that, even snickering lightly at Strange's reaction to Taraharu, then refocuses when they're all shown... Something! Cantio's not sure what any of it's supposed to be, but she pieces together enough about it being a place thanks to being told that it's a 'there' to go to and not a 'there' to obtain or speak to. "That should be more than enough to try and wrap our heads around this. Thank you. The sooner we understand these hexes, the sooner we can maybe start learning more about..."

She gestures vaguely around everywhere. Words are getting harder, but at least she's not throwing up again.
Xion Xion is...

Praised? Appraised? Dispraised? She can't tell, but she's feeling good, so she takes it well. The clickety-clacking knife collapses in her palm as Stephen Strange asks Xion a very important question.

The knife-palm goes pocketward as she looks up and smiles.

"Of course! You always gather your party before venturing forth, right? I'm an adventure *pro*."

Xion lifts her emptied fist to the sky, Starlight 'shwink'-ing into reality and smoothly being added to her movie poster skyward-away point towards the portal. "With everyone's help, this quest'll be a cinch! Just you see, Supervisor Goldtext."