27

The moment Sal Grimone set foot outside of the Rogue's house, the distinct feeling arose that he had made a mistake. For no rational reason, Sal felt the tug of resistance from his gut that in the past was a good indicator that nothing pleasant was to follow. The Rogue had told him that he would be back, so Sal was going to make it a point to not return. Still, this tug of resistance was an unexpected obstacle to his firm conviction. The Rogue might be some sort of super hacker, but all of this nonsense about destiny was something Sal just could not swallow.

As Sal made his way back down the path from the Rogue's house, he made the turn and should have seen the familiar outlines of Iron Bastion silhouetting the sky. Instead, there was a vast emptiness. The feeling of resistance inside Sal grew. Where was the Bastion? Surely there was a logical explanation for its disappearance.

Sal thought he would inquire of the locals to see if he could obtain further information regarding the Bastion. As he looked around the streets, he noticed a distinct lack of social stratification. The rougher area he had walked through only hours before was completely missing. As Sal attempted to take all this in, something even more unfathomable happened. His interface alerted him to a message. Sal hoped fervently that someone had managed to circumvent the dampening. This would make sense with the reality he knew. He summoned his interface. He had full access.

Startled by this realization, Sal happened to nearly run into another man walking nearby. Though the interface made sense with the reality he understood, the Bastion was gone and so the dissonance had started him anyway. The man stared back at Sal unintelligibly and blankly. Sal tried to snap him out of it by asking him a question about how the dampening had been taken down. The man had puzzlingly replied that he did not know what Sal was talking about. When Sal asked about Iron Bastion as a follow-up, the man continued to stare at him blankly. he had never heard of such a structure. Utterly exhausted and flabbergasted, Sal bid the man a good day. The man said goodbye, which was the only normal exchange Sal was going to have with him. It was what the man added to the goodbye that caught Sal's ear. Sal had heard the additional phrase "and may solidarity save us yet." Sal had no choice but to stop the man again.

"What did YOU just say?" asked Sal more alarmed than curious.

"May solidarity save us yet?" asked the man as though Sal might be a mental patient.

"Yeah, that. Why did you just say that?"

"Surely you can't be ignorant of the Runic War?"

Sal's features became pallid. "The what?"

"The Runic War," the man replied.

Sal began to shake. The man asked if he was all right, and Sal replied that he just needed a few moments to sit down and collect himself and that he would be fine. Sal collapsed into a sitting position where formerly he stood. He tried to sort out his unruly thoughts. As he sat in his state of shock, he remembered his message via his interface. At this point, he welcomed the distraction. Sal opened it. He read the following words with some consternation:

Holonopshereic user update:

Sal Grimone, you have traveled into the past. Since the Holonosphere has technically always existed, just not always used, you will still have access to the interface. Since no one believes in the holonosphere until much after this period, however, no one will believe any assertion that you might make concerning the holonosphere. Additionally, you will not have access to information beyond your own time period.

Our records indicate that you are in the era of the first Runic War. Since it is unlikely you remember the history of the era and now find yourself immersed in it, a short primer will follow. It is inadvisable to try to change anything you see. The simple reason is that you are not likely to be successful, and if you are you are more likely to create a parallel universe than if you simply leave things as they are. It is highly recommended you return to your own native time period. The nearest node outside this immediate time sphere at this moment is a small dwelling near what would in your era be Iron Bastion. Primer commencing now:

The first Runic War was, according to your time period, fought over the primacy of language and therefore culture. It was labeled the Runic War because of the penchant for historians to discuss the war in terms of language matters. The reality is that this war was fought because people were beginning to appreciate the holonosphere's holographic existence and therefore the bendability of reality. The Runic War was fought in an effort to control the languages available so that the dominant culture could impose its will on the hologram of reality. History books failed to mention how combatants often used no weapons but instead spoke certain syllable combinations much like the incantations in an effort to bring about certain conditions in the hologram that would slaughter their enemies. It appears you are standing near the epicenter of an incoming major conflict. Since the causality level is high in this battle, it is suggested you leave the area immediately.

We hope you enjoy your historic journey, and remind you to hasten your efforts to return to your own time period.

"Oh, over to that place eh? It's not very well defended, and the guy who lives there is not exactly the most aware citizen. Some folks call him eccentric whereas others opt for the title of crazy. Either way, you'd be better off coming with us."

"I appreciate the offer, Prilock," said Sal. "I think that place is the best place for me though--despite the surety that the man inside is crazy."

As Sal said these words, he allowed his eyes to follow the familiar path toward the Rogue's abode once more. As he did so, he caught sight of the door opening, and of who he was sure was the Rogue stepping out. He could just barely make out the Rogue placing his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. It appeared he was looking in the direction Sal was now standing. The Rogue tossed his hand up in greeting, then turned around and went back into the house.

Sal felt more motivated than ever to get back to the Rogue's place. Now, especially, since the Rogue had just greeted him and walked back in with no outer acknowledgment of knowing who he was. Had Sal stepped into some alternative dimension where not even the Rogue knew who he was? If so, Sal was in deep, deep trouble.

"I've got to go now, Prilock," said Sal.

It was about that time that the environment crackled. Schoolchildren once played with what was termed a Van De Graaff Generator. The generator had a belt that ran inside it and generated static electricity in large quantities. It was a fun experiment for kids, although at times painful because of the shock that a good-sized generator could deal. Most of the time though, it simply made their hair stand on end, and their peers would point and laugh. Yet, if someone's hair stood like that on a stormy day, it would be no laughing matter because lightning was a lot like nature's Van De Graaff generator. It worked on the same principles--electricity seeking to go from one place to another to achieve an equilibrium that had been temporarily disturbed resulting in a gradient of charge. When equilibrium was sought, it was dangerous to be in the path of it--unless one wanted to be struck by lightning. When the air crackled, it felt indistinguishable from lightning--except there was no storm. The appropriate action was hard to derive.

"Get DOWN!" shouted Prilock and threw Sal to the ground.

As Sal's face became acquainted rapidly with the ground, he felt some sizzling hot energy pass above him. Sal was within literally feet of liberation, but time was working against him. As a restriction, there is nothing more persistent than time--no foe more unconquerable. He could still see the Rogue's house, but it might as well have been a mile away. Whatever was going on, it didn't show signs of stopping anytime soon.

"DOWN GODDAMNIT!" Prilock shouted.