-August- Happy Birthday To Me.

Eighteen.

Hey Todd, you're finally allowed to not feel guilty about staring at me like that in all fifty states.

Woo.

Spence has something in NYC he needs me to pick up. Normally I'd argue why he couldn't get it himself, but we've already had our weekly disagreement (twelve years, huh?) and I'm kind of glad to be getting out of the house. The events of the eighth don't exactly give me any grounds to argue on, (as the boss pointed out himself) so I guess it's living in a van for a few days for me.

New York's a ways away and I'll be handling a couple small things of my own; cameras in certain areas and those radio stations are still in need of repair, especially considering one went down with a fire in Manhattan.

(Maybe our little pyromaniacal friend from before? No, no, no, he should be... )

Taking the van. We've got bikes thanks to Spencer's... connections so if you really need to get out there are always those. We're all hermits anyways so I really don't see how it matters.

Love love, be home soon, don't do anything stupid,

August

-August- Timey-Wimey Nonsense

Because a couple hours in surrealist art is not how I wanted to spend the last three days.

For those of you not following, let me give you a brief explanation: call them what you will, Mazes, Labyrinths, Loops, Hell, Why-Is-There-A-House-Floating-In-Mid-Air-Moutains-Aren't-Supposed-To-Form-Sideways-Like-That-oh-god-when-did-the-sidewalk-end-and-why-is-there-water-flowing-up-a-tree; they're pocket dimensions and they're a massive pain.

Not only do we have to worry about the neigh-infinite onslaught of proxies, as the description above points out they're also incredibly confusing. This is basically the place that physics forgot, and buildings bend in on themselves like something out of Inception, layers upon layers upon layers of reality included.

(But we'll get to that later, won't we?)

Another parallel I will so shamelessly make is the timey-wimey nonsense, from which I finally find a name for this post. Maybe it's an effect only we've noticed, (judging by Operation Wintergreen, Ava's experience in them and countless others I won't list, it's quite the contrary) but time seems to move differently, and it's completely random so every time we finally get out we have to find somewhere with a regular clock. What was a couple of hours in the loop was three whole days in the real world, so no doubt the government bigwigs are wondering where we are.

If there's any good news, it's that we've got the package and we're out of Detroit. That means 1) we're in vehicles, therefore moving faster, and 2) run-ins with our little masked compadres are sparse due to the fact that you can't be turned Blank by and eldritch abomination and pilot a car at the same time.

Sam's driving again, mostly because we haven't hit the country roads quite yet. This is probably the most boring part of the delivery, and we're all pretty disoriented after coming out of the Loop.

It's a weird feeling to lose time in a Loop. You try to fill in the three day gap and you get is two full hours between when you entered and when you got back to the van and starting listening to The Wall.

What can I say? I'm steadily developing a taste for classic rock.

-Sam- Yeah, I don't know what I'm doing here.

Hello world, I'm Sam Carnegie. I'll tell you right off that I'm pretty much the most worthless member of the team. All these guys, they're all tough and experienced, right? They're good at this surviving business. Me, I barely lasted a fucking month on my own out there. When Spencer found me, I'd just been attacked by a hobo. A hobo. Not Mr. Faceless, not one of his crazies. Just some drunk homeless guy. And I could barely hold him off.


I guess I'm staying here, though. I figure for me it's a choice between growing a (metaphorical) pair and working for Spence and co, or being out on my own and dying a horrible death in some dark alleyway. Which will probably still happen. But at least I'll be getting paid for it.


Also, I'm a girl. Just thought I'd mention that.