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Jeremy Georgian
Philosopher

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#1








The place where he had been dropped seemed to be very odd indeed. From the climate and the sky above he would assume it to be the Netherlands, maybe somewhere else in Europe during a snowspell; but the people around him were varied in race, clothing, accent (he also noticed, with a wrinkle of his nose, that a lot of them were considerably younger than he was)...and the architecture was not familiar at all.

Jeremy stood up and brushed himself off. This is what happens when you drink too much, you big fucking idiot, the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Diana chided him. To his luck, they seemed to be speaking English...or, were they? He realised he didn't quite recognise every sound around him, yet he understood perfectly.

He stepped back and pressed himself to a wall, watching people pass and trying to work out what the hell was going on. Dorothy, you're not in Kansas anymore.

If it was a whiskey-induced nightmare, it was very lifelike. He decided he'd do what he'd always wanted to do in a lucid dream. Stop someone and ask them about their life, see if they repeated back a parroted version of his own, or see if his brain was capable of making entirely original individuals.

"Hey- Hey you--" He said to each person passing, waiting until someone responded to him.

JEREMY
In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem.
Government is the solution to our problem.


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#2
108
To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.

"It is my observation that they do not respond to hey you. I believe it is due to the un-specific nature of the words. When given the option to interpret a plea for help as being non-specific, many will pretend as though they did not hear to further themselves from the obligation."

I have been watching the man as he calls out and watching as eyes pretend not to see him. It is a strange predator prey sort of response I think. Perhaps I should not have said anything and merely observed longer. Hmmmm.

"Your core body temperature is going to drop to a fatal level if you remain out in the streets." I observe. I have no such worries about my own body temperature of course. I can feel the internal machinery humming with vivacity as it stabilizes all of my vital organs at an optimal level.



Jeremy Georgian
Philosopher

Age: 59 | Height: 6' 1" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship:
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#3








Finally someone stopped - a woman...? No...he wasn't sure. who spoke oddly, like an automaton in a movie. Jeremy's brows furrowed immediately as he tried to parse all of it. In his experience people pretty often did reply to 'hey you'; it had been his default yell for taxis or waiters after all. "Looks like you responded though, hey?"

He looked down at himself, really noticing the cold for the first time. He had been too wrapped up in the drama of the whole experience to notice the temperature. "Fuck, it is cold. You're right. You got somewhere a man can go to warm himself up around here? Get a drink too, maybe?"

Jeremy didn't mind asking for charity when it was probably a dream - besides, he believed in helping his fellow man or some shit like that, so hoped the same could apply back to him. Even though the person spoke weirdly, seemed...flat, emotionless..hopefully they'd still find it in their heart to help until he could leave.

JEREMY
In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem.
Government is the solution to our problem.


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#4
108
To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.

I pause. Obviously I have responded. My lashes flutter in an expression reminiscent of confusion.  Then I have a thought. "I suppose it depends on what your definition of respond is. After all, everyone who has passed you has given you some sort of response: a negative one, or at the very least a neutral one. Because I have addressed you in the manner you presumably were looking for, you consider my reply a positive response." I pause. My head tilts; a left over habit from my humanity. "Is that right?"

His words are confusing. "There are no male-specific establishments that I am aware of. Though I am sure that any of these houses can provide you with ample heat. As for liquids, if the snow is not adequate the marketplace or Rathskeller provide a number of potables for consumption. None however are under my jurisdiction."
Jeremy Georgian
Philosopher

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#5








The tangent about responses was the kind of thing he'd love to read in an essay from a student, would probably discuss it in a class...but right now? Jeremy just wanted a sit down and a drink, and philosophical wishy-washing wasn't helping him towards that point.

"Sure, yeah." He replied dismissively, hoping to shut that thread of conversation down.

He was pretty sure at this point he was being mocked. Male-specific establishments? But in the flurry of words there was something that caught his interest - 'Rathskeller'. That sounded like the name of a pub if he'd ever heard one. Smiling, he looked about for a sign, but failed to see one. With a sigh, he knew he'd have to depend on his new friend.

"So uh, can you take me to this Rathskeller joint? Get me there and I'll get outta your hair. They have boozer there?"

JEREMY
In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem.
Government is the solution to our problem.


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#6
108
To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.

His reaction seems to indicate that my answer has not been entirely sufficient. I rewind the conversation to see where I might have gone wrong. By somewhere a man can go, was he perhaps wondering if there were gendered establishments in which he would not be welcome, rather than ones he would?

“I am able.” I reply with a nod, “As long as it hasn’t moved, or any other potential eventualities have not transpired while I have been underground.” I add, thinking that perhaps more information will help this encounter. The mention of my hair is confusing. I run long fingers through the tufts of dishevelled blonde and find that there is nothing in it. To be sure, I glance down at my hand.

Nothing. I wonder if perhaps discord has significantly changed within the bubble since I have been underground.

“Is booze a synonym for some sort of beverage?”
Jeremy Georgian
Philosopher

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#7








"Right...uh...great. So can you then?" Jeremy was getting pretty exasperated by this point with the weird stranger whom he had stopped. There seemed to be plenty of normal people passing by, and he wished he could have drawn one of their attentions. 108 even seemed to respond to his phrase by feeling in their hair, which made him laugh at the same time as want to scream.

It began to seem unlikely it was a dream: Anyone in any dream of his would know what booze was. "Yeah, booze. Alcohol. Wine, Whiskey, fuck, even Ethanol if you've got it." This was a joke (mostly) but he didn't expect 108 to get it.

"You got a name?" He asked, trying to desperately pull this back to something approaching a normal conversation, trying to walk as he spoke in what he hoped was the right direction to spur 108 into showing him the way.

JEREMY
In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem.
Government is the solution to our problem.


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#8
108
To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.

"Alright." I reply, immediately setting off down the street. His clarification is helpful, and I nod to indicate my understanding. "Yes. I believe that the primary offering of the Rathskeller is..booze." I try the word on for size.

It does not fit. I do not like it.

"Yes." I reply immediately. Though my internal body temperature is being continually monitored and calibrated by my system, a quick internal scan indicates that I should seek shelter soon. I consider this puzzle. I have no interest in the Rathskeller as an establishment, for I require no sustenance in the way which is provided there, nor am I particularly fond of entertainment. But if nothing has changed, it will be inside and underground.

"Please increase your speed." I say, extending my stride as if switching gears.
Jeremy Georgian
Philosopher

Age: 59 | Height: 6' 1" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship:
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#9








Alright, well now he was sort of getting somewhere. They'd at least established that the place they were going to could in fact fix him a drink. Even if this stranger was determined to be as difficult as possible (he huffed out a disbelieving laugh at the answer 'yes') they were at least leading him to a bar.

Jeremy found himself surprised at just how quickly they turned and marched off, struggling to keep up with cold limbs used to sitting at desks for long periods of time. He actually felt he was doing rather well at keeping up when he was reminded not-so-politely to keep up.

"Hey, I'm not as young as I used to be, alright?" He said forward at their back. Still, he took a few bounds closer, trying to match them side by side. "Maybe you should wait for me. And tell me what your name is instead of being a smartass."

JEREMY
In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem.
Government is the solution to our problem.


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#10
108
To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.

"It is not your age that is restricting your mobility but what appears to be a lack of regular exercise and improper nutritional intake." I reply, pleased that he is increasing his pace. However as he suggests that I might slow, I shake my head in a definitive no. "I do not wish to combust, therefore the most optimal path is one of expedience. " I clarify. I can already feel the fluid singing in my veins as the weak winter sunlight begins to erode the chemical bonds holding the reanimation fluid together.

"You did not ask me to tell you my name." I reply instantly. "Only whether or not I had one." I look towards him as my gait elongates further. His comment about the intellectual characteristics of my gluteus maximus is strange. I find myself imaging a land where brain matter is stored in the posterior and wonder what the upshot of that sort of anatomy might be. Perhaps this man knows and can explain. For now however I think it prudent to let him know that my cognitive functions are not located there, in case he has made wayward assumptions based on that incorrect assumption. "In Caido, intellect is not found in the buttocks."
Jeremy Georgian
Philosopher

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#11








Jeremy didn't even have time to respond to the pretty fucking rude if you asked him comment about his fitness habits ('still well enough to give you a boxing around the ears', his fathers voice said in his head) before they'd begun talking about combusting. Looking around, all he could see was snow. Hardly weather in which anyone should be bursting into flame.

It seemed he still wasn't going to get a name. He gave up on it for now with an irritated eye roll, too busy focusing on trying to keep up with 108 to care much about social niceties anymore.

"...Alright, look--" He said, between puffs of breath. "--I get this thing you're doing is very clever or fun to you, but I'm in a bad fucking spot here." Usually, he didn't get tired or worn out in dreams, so the sign was that this was real, which was concerning. "I need some help so I can get back home to my wife and my job. The pub's a good start, but can you please tell me a bit more about this place? You said...Key-do? Somewhere in Japan?"

JEREMY
In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem.
Government is the solution to our problem.


Age: 209 | Height: 5"9 | Race: Ascended | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship:
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#12
108
To go on is to go through. At last, even the seer is cremated.
Each seed loves the dark for the light it promises.

"A spot?" I repeat, hazarding a glance in his direction. My optics have not been upgraded since my ascension, but I see neither spots on him or in his immediate vicinity. Perhaps he is experiencing some sort of optical phenomena?

I do not understand, and so I say nothing.

"K-eye-dough" I correct, sounding the word out. I do not know the comparison he is trying to make, and so I shake my head, knowing that it must be wrong. "Caido is the name of the continent upon which you stand. The current area we are in is called The Hollowed Grounds. For many, it is the thought of as the only area, or province, given that no one has been able to leave it for over 300 years. This—" I gesture to the area around us even as we briskly walk through it. "Is part of the housing district, aptly named the domiciles."
Jeremy Georgian
Philosopher

Age: 59 | Height: 6' 1" | Race: Accepted | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship:
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#13








"..Kay....I-do. Right." He repeated, trying out the new word in his mouth. It certainly wasn't anywhere he remembered from a map. Perhaps it was some small village on a remote island somewhere? It would explain how 108 was so different from him...but then it was described as a continent.

"What do you mean this is the only area? Why can't you leave? There's a whole goddamn world out there...is this somewhere near Australia?" As this explanation continued it got weirder and weirder; he really needed the drink.

At least the part about housing seemed simple enough. There were little houses all around, some crumbling in the walls but nothing worse than he'd seen in the poorer areas of town as a child. "So is one of these your place?"

JEREMY
In this present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem.
Government is the solution to our problem.


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