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The Self-Multiplying Business Cards of Azir

Date: 25-Feb-2008/14:23+3:00

Tags: , , ,

Characters: me, woman, purple, her

I was in a round space capsule with some kind of weak artifical gravity. There were books strewn about the room.
The captain was asking everyone to look in the books on some page. Every book seemed to have someone else's hand on it, yet I found one. Becoming lucid, I tried to make out the strange writing in the book to remember it...but was interrupted when someone spoke up and said that the information we were being asked to look for wasn't in the book.
People clapped and the circular room opened up and gravity seemed to right itself, as if we were in a simulation that was turned off. A woman walked in who seemed like an authority figure and I took her aside.
me: "I don't know where I am or what is going on. I need help."
woman: (feeling my arm) "You don't feel like yourself. Let's get you hooked up."
People came in with a machine which had two pads that reminded me of a defibrillator. They put them on my back and I thought they were going to shock me, but instead they just whirred a bit at gradually increasing frequencies of sound. I watched as strange oscilloscope-like diagrams came on the display, along with a cartoonish diagram of an atom with electrons.
woman: "The structure of your atoms date back to 1993."
Note I corrected her with my birthdate and today's date, though I added something I'd heard that all the atoms in your body are replaced every 7 years. However, the study I was trying to quote was cells, not atoms, and it's probably pseudoscience anyway according to Snopes.
woman: (to two men in military fatigues) "Grant him a presence."
They stepped forward with what looked like a body bag, as if they were going to zipper me inside it. I didn't want to be stuffed in a bag so I resisted, and they backed off and just escorted me along a path.
Note In retrospect, I wonder if I may have misinterpreted the function of that bag.
As we walked along the path, we were being led by a small dog like creature. I shouted out questions to the people around me and when I did the dog would circle off the path, throw a purple object off to the side, and then return to the path. If I leaned down toward the purple object it would whisper an answer at me.
me: "Where am I?"
purple: "The Azir."
me: "What has become of the Earth?"
purple: "It is along this path."
me: "Has the Riemann hypothesis been solved?"
purple: "I think you should pick up that paper."
Note
the top current Google hit for Azir is a site describing it as a fictional world for furries, with a rather interesting Welcome Speech
Welcome, 21st Century Humans! This world, which we call Azir, is home to many Impossible Gates such as the one you see before you. Through the mysterious powers of the Gates, which open to unpredictable times and places, we of Azir have been enriched by the artistic and intellectual treasures of a dozen worlds. Thanks to the generous contributions of a Mizarian named Skirizai Siprit and a Human named Teamouse Chanezumi, it is now possible to make a small sample of these treasures available to other visitors from their home worlds. Material objects will not pass through the Gate, but visitors are entitled to make as many copies of Azirian treasures as they wish for their own private non-commercial use.
...which is odd, if I do say so myself.
I leaned down and there was a business card that looked like it was for Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (the note I took upon awaking was Maharesh Mahi Yogi, but it could easily have been the other). It was on rough cardstock that seemed like recycled paper, with black writing.
If you pinched the card it would split into two, and the new card would come sliding out from underneath as if it had been stuck on the bottom all along. This process would continue seemingly indefinitely, and each new card had the original design on the back but some spiritual writing on the face of the new card revealed.
There were various symbols that looked like yin-yangs and platitudes of transcendence. As I kept splitting these cards and reading them, I realized that none of it contained the technical or mathematical information I had been inquiring after. I didn't want to litter and throw all the cards down on the ground, but I had nowhere else to put them.
I decided to approach another woman who was walking on the path.
me: "Do you know the solution to the Riemann hypothesis?"
her: "I don't know, but I might know someone who does."
me: "Are you sure it has been solved?"
her: "Why are you asking me? I'm a Mormon-Catholic."
Then I awoke.
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The accounts written here are as true as I can manage. While the words are my own, they are not independent creative works of fiction —in any intentional way. Thus I do not consider the material to be protected by anything, other than that you'd have to be crazy to want to try and use it for genuine purposes (much less disingenuous ones!) But who's to say?