[network] @ADMIN; Arrival [open]

[snowblindmods]

Welcome to Norfinbury. The time is E̛̬̞͖͖̫R҉͖̯̬R̼̻͉̰͎̳̙O̩͓͔̫͇͈̯R and the date is E̛̬̞͖͖̫R҉͖̯̬R̼̻͉̰͎̳̙O̩͓͔̫͇͈̯R. This network has been provided for your use. Please interact politely with everyone else on this network.
E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫
E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫ E҉̘̩̙͢͝͡R̛̫̘̝̮̞̬͓̝̫̻̻̜̦̀ͅŖ̮̳͕̲͚͜O̷̙̖͓͙̗̰͘͟R̯̝͓̪̻̩̟̟͕̥͍̭̪͍͘:̵̛̛̝͖͓̺̥̙̝̀͜ ̧̛͙͚̱̫͇̹̙̥͎̜̖̺̻̕͠͝I͇͓̫̺͖̻͈̝͇̰͕̩̯͝͡N̶̛̪̯̤̭̻͎͚̻̟͙V̧̼͙̹͔͝A̷̸̵̧̰̱̺̗̤̤̹̙̺͕͎͇̦̫͕̣̰̪͟L͏̡͍̣̫̘̖̰̟̤̟̕I̛̜̻̖̦̥͓̟̫͡ͅD҉͏̶̴̷͔̬̗̘͖͓͚͔̗̱̝̹̻͔ ̷̢̗͉͚͓̱̫͙̱̪̥̤͢R̵̢̭͕͖̙̤̣̬̪̜͎͇̙̥̘͕̙͟͜ͅE̴̷̶͇̖̙̪̜̜̫̪̬̣̣̫̺͜F̢͏̸̳̬̟͖͉͎͉̤͉͉͎̣̲̙͉͢E͏̨̧̫̩̭̯͓̬̼̳̳̱͉̤͞R̶͉͈̪͔͈͘Ȩ̧̩͙̦̝͉͇͚̼̫̭̕͘͡N̷̡̖͇͕̻̰̯͈͕͉̯C̳̝͍̤̫̥̰͝Ȩ̴̨͡͏̥̥̯̰̭̻̳̫
E҉̨̢͎͎̗̦͈͎̘R̨̘̦̙̖̳͈͟R̢̞̺͖̩̟̻͙͕̩͜O̢̢̼͉͔̟̯̝͇̙͜͠R̴̛̗̝͕̣̘͙̪͖̀͟:̢̢͉̙̥̝͖͉̯̟͇̖̱̖͓̲̳ ͏̴͉͈͈̦̝̦͉͖̖͉̪̝̠̭I͡҉̣̼̜̩̻̜͓̻̳̼̥̭̯̭̫͉̭ͅL̶͖͖̯̝̥̬̖̤̥̹͎̟̬̻̦̜̝̻̗͟͞Ļ̸̸̸̥̺̝̜̭̘̞͈͎͚͉E̶͍͍͈̬̕͜͟G̳̬͉̙̥̩̼̭̦͔͘͜͡À̴͟҉̤͔͇̩̳͝ͅL̟͉̯̥̝̀͢͝ ͏҉͈͎͇̞̪̬͓͎̖̥̜̦̖̜O̺̹̺̜͉̠͉̠͇̭̣͔͡͞P̢͘͜҉̺̝̥͎̜Ḙ̢͔͇̰͇̯̺͇͓̜Ŗ̦̝̫̯̻̰͍͙̼̮͎̕ͅA̸̬̯͉͓̥̕͢͞ͅT̷̡͎̻̳̥Ḭ̵̡̥̭̥̀͞O̴͈̤͚͇̜͘͘͞N̢̬͕̙̫̦̳̫̭͖͙̤.̧͢͜҉̩̼̬̞̟̻͇̭͖ ̳̝̺̯̣̠̣̲͎̝̞̣̭̫͘͠S̡̧̼͈̱̳̰̰̳̻̺̫̝͈͖͎ͅH̦̖̣̦̱͓͙͓̣́͜͠͠Ù̸͎̹̼̱͈͇̼̼̕ͅͅṰ̤̝̦̞͍̮̦̞̼̪͕̹̬͈͝T͞͏̟͖͔̯̼̫̞̥̣̘͉̫̟ͅI̢͖̪̮̺̰̟͎͈͇̻͈͔͉̱̯͓̻͞N̢̨̮̱͕̣͟Ģ̸̝̟͚̩͙͖ͅ ҉̴̝̭̩̯̫̤̼̬͇͡ͅD̨͏̺͎̝̟͔͉͕̲̮͎̦͓̥͕̹͓̮̖̘̀͠Ǫ̵͍͇̝̱̖̳̦͖͡W̸̧̩͕̹̹̬̰̻̣̣͓̞̼̮̦̺͟͞͡N̡̛̫͙̠͚̠̲̙̟̤͔̦͙ͅ.҉̢̻̝̦͓̀̕͠

Comments

[bindlestifflost]

You know, I can't say the thought ain't crossed my mind, too, that this is some screwy dream. Problem with that is I ain't this creative.

[He peers where indicated and shakes his head.]

Naw, nothin'. You're right. What you think it means?

[This guy knows more about this thing than he does. Might as well see if he has a theory.]

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton keeps his gaze carefully level. He's not going to talk about dreams. He's not going to talk about how he has a lot of experience traveling between and recognizing them, nor how he seems to have mysteriously lost that level of subconscious insight after waking up in Norfinbury. That's a whole level of crazy above what Clayton anticipates George Milton here is willing to accept.]

[Instead, he focuses on the tablet.]

I'm thinkin' it means the time ain't what nobody thinks it is. Was talkin' to a young lady--Hope--earlier, she says it's 2277. Saw somebody else say it's 2015. [Clayton points an incriminating finger at himself.] I'm comin' in here thinkin' it's 2018. It'd be one thing if just one of us had it weird, but ain't no one know what time it is, seems. Somethin' ain't right with that.

[bindlestifflost]

[He's really not happy hearing any of that. Twenty this and twenty that, all of them so far into what he'd think of as the future that his practical mind just balks at it. The guy is right about one thing. Something isn't right. He's just not sure if it's this "tablet" thing or some of the people using it.]

Or maybe somebody jes' wants everybody confused so they can do whatever it is they brung us here to do.

[dr_unconscious]

Ain't that the truth.

[Clayton leans heavily forward, dragging his hands over his face for a long, flustered moment. He doesn't seem to fully recover, as he continues to speak into his palms and looks, comparatively speaking, very tired.]

They's sure doin' a good job of it, I'll give 'em that.

[bindlestifflost]

Hey.

[His voice sharpens, his eyes focused intently on the screen.]

Don't. Ain't nobody gonna get the best a' you if you don't let 'em. Yeah, this is weird shit. It's screwy shit we're all in the middle of. That don't mean we can't get out of it long as we keep our heads.

[dr_unconscious]

[Clayton perks upright. It's not often that he's on the receiving end of these kinds of speeches. Then again, it's not often that he's taken to an isolated ghost town, separated from everyone he knows and cares about without any memory of how he got there and no shoes, to top it off. This is a pretty stressful day so far. Clayton could do with the pep talk.]

[He appears to be appreciative of it, too, as the initial surprise wears off and his arms slump to the table, leaving behind a quirked, sleepy smile.]

...Yeah, you've got the right idea. Ain't no good'll come outta sittin' here, pullin' my beard out. Thanks, man. [A beat.] ...Uh...George, right? George Milton? I'm Clayton.