Observer Compendium I-3
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Observer.Protocol(*041)//subject("Michael Ward")



If, in your infinite wisdom, you survey the world and wait for the perfect time to act, do not be surprised to find that you have waited forever and the egg you thought to hatch has rotten underneath you. "To those who have nothing, even that will be taken away." However, if you observe Reality, you may find there is a lesson that It does not wait for perfection to exist, to create being and goodness. To see that it is good to declare goodness over all and create ever anew - even in the absence of an ideal certitude - is to find the freedom to be your perpetually imperfect Self. Ideal perfection is a static state of non-existence: The game is over when it is One. So, dearest Something from Nothing, may you find within the obligation to sustain and improve this imperfect reality. If for no Other's sake but your own: Perpetuate it. And then, you may find, against the strangest of odds, that it all really depends on you.

-Mother Dragon, from William the Lessor's, 'Fairies, Tails, Wisdom'

The sky isn’t the right color.
Where are we?

“We are in a mental hospital,” a helpful voice chides.
No, where are we? What realm?
“We came in an ambulance with the pretty driver. Her last name was Brain. She didn't like us looking at her badge. Did she think we couldn't hear her? ‘I hate they have our names on these things.’”
To be fair she was right, I would have flirted.
The sky should be purple and black, the stars should be lower.

The cheery voice continues, “What are they saying about us over there? One of the other inmates said they were a multidimensional deity who transcended names and gender. They have the right idea. Maybe they'll help us get out.”
The second sun should be over there…
“We're not outside, you ninny.”
My wife is coming to get me.
“Your what? Who do you think we are?”
I am Frost. I was… Well, which story are We in? Whose Archverse?
Vic, are you there?

“Who’s Vic?”
Damn it all!

“Hey, Golden Boy! What are you doing here?” Barks a tall and threateningly disheveled patient standing front to a huddled group of three blue-clad men not too far from me.

“What?” I try unfeigned ignorance.

An orderly stands near the ward’s telephone, yelling out a call for Michael Ward. Ironic name, that.

Another tests the water with undisguised menace, “You don’t belong here. Did she leave you all alone?”

I know this game: Play it hard or play dumb, but they seem to think they know me… I steel myself and aim for hard but fear hits me like a ton of bricks - paranoia and chest gripping fear crumple my will. What can they do to me? Who do they think I am, Apollo? Am I? FUCK! Where is Vic?! Did she leave me?

Welp, roll over it is, “Do you guys ever feel like everyone is out to get you? I keep hearing voices and they’re saying terrible things.”


A flip switches in all of them, faces lose their hostility. What the actual fuck? A third one tries, “Yeah, man, it’s terrible in here. The staff doesn’t give a shit either. I’ve been trying to get out and get my meds adjusted for over a month.”

The leader points over my shoulder, “Hey, aren’t you Michael? You have a call.”

My name is Michael? That’s a prime joke - the feathery poptart isn’t going to like that.

I almost smile, keeping a cautious eye on my now amenable chums as I back towards the phone. I grab the receiver from the disgruntled staff member.

“Hello?” My voice cracks with adrenaline fatigue and uncertainty.

A woman’s voice, “Michael! Thank God! Are you okay? The doctor says they want to keep you there another few weeks to monitor the meds they’re putting you on.”

“Who is this?”

“Michael! That isn’t funny, you know very damn well it’s Mary and just how much you put us through this weekend.” She sounds definitively hurt and concerned. If I’m in here she probably has the right to be.

“Sorry, you know my sense of humor isn’t always the timeliest. I won’t last in here for two more weeks. Mary.” I add her name a little late, my hesitation bleeding through.

She doesn’t seem to notice, “I’ll see what I can do. I’ll keep calling the doctor and let them know we’re ready for you to come home now.”

You better show up soon, Vic. This isn’t my kind of adventure.

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