[The Worm — 08.01.2011 — Saturday]
I got home around 2 P.M. and spent another four hours carefully watching Earth Aleph's version of "Cruel Intentions."
Spent 4 hours answering the most important questions about this universe.
By 6 P.M. it was too late to return to the Lord Street Market, but not for the city’s 24/7 supermarkets. So soon, I headed back to the car I had left near the building and drove to the city's largest hardware hypermarket.
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Strangely enough, such a hypermarket was located deep in the Archer’s Bridge Merchants’ territory, just near East Railyard.
From the perspective of a Worm fanfic reader, this was absurd. Why hadn’t the Merchants robbed it yet? Why didn't Squealer still have a thinker fugue?
But from the point of view of a typical Brockton Bay resident, "Merchants’ territory" essentially meant three simple things:
Very occasionally, you’d encounter gang members calling themselves the "Merchants."
Some businesses paid "for security" to them rather than to other gangs.
And, something-something about drugs and monster trucks.
Which made a lot of sense.
How many crimes were attributed to the three main gangs in canon, excluding the insane Bakuda and the chaos-inducing Coil and his agents?
Very few.
Because gangs exist for money.
And public crimes don’t make money; they cost money. Money makes a stable business.
In the case of the Merchants, such business was — no, not drugs — a convenient drug-selling service in Brockton Bay's poorer districts. Hundreds of "your best friends, Mary Jane, Molly, Tony." With rotted teeth and bad speech, but hey, very approachable, understanding, and, you know, just poor and misunderstood suckers like you. Always ready to lend you some dope and meet your acquaintances.
Now, did it make sense for Skidmark to order his own underlings to scare off his East Slums customers with unprovoked violence? Deprive them of their already shitty workplaces? Take away from them money for dope and make their cold rage a hot one?
No, of course not. It would destroy his stable income and, within weeks, would turn him from a fanon version into canon trash or a cell prisoner.
That didn’t mean the "Merchants’ territory" was safe, far from it. It only meant it was safe enough for families with children to walk the streets without constant paranoia about gunfire or the rumble of monster trucks.
'Worm fanfics fully warped my perception of Earth Bet. For most city residents, Empire 88, ABB, Merchants, and even the Protectorate weren’t primary driving forces; they were essentially static.
And because it fully applies to me, this is another proof that I am not a character destined to constantly stumble into improbable, reader-pleasing drama.' I reassured myself a little as I pulled into a parking lot. With already over a hundred peacefully standing cars; all belonging to people as real as I am.
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At the superstore, I bought the best sanding kit with various grits, a similar polishing set, a lamp, magnifying glasses, clamps, a glue gun with plenty of sticks, a few 1515 aluminum profiles. And — following the main 101 DIY rule — several dozen samples of different fasteners. Essentially, a collection of Lego-like connectors for bigger Lego-like parts.
Back home, I placed my new lamp on the table and started sanding the clamped jadeite candleholder. That Gates power sensed as "It's 37% of the material needed for creating a Gate to the "Cruel Intentions" universe IF you had material with ideal compatibility." In other words, roughly a third of Gate.
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Creating Gates was both simple and complex, with many existing, yet nonessential, rules that were close to fantasy alchemy ones.
For example, theoretically, I could use almost incompatible materials, haphazardly nail them together, and still produce a working Gate to the desired universe.
But in practice, this would destroy almost all material’s potential and create a monstrosity on an epic scale.
The last was especially important because all Gates were non-dismountable. Absolutely. Any damage to a Gate led to its complete disintegration and permanent loss of access to the corresponding subversion of the universe.
Beyond material efficiency, there was also the importance of form and meaning. While the description didn’t state that Gate's properties influence the endpoint variable, some part of me KNOWS they do.
Gates superpower just didn't feel like something with a few switches and a hint system. There was something else.
Like very strange "pings" from items that should be less valuable than items with more physical material value, or the same items but newer, but weren't. Or items that aren't valuable per se, yet somehow special for specific universes. Rare old photos, toys, glasses...
I wasn't sure how much "Gate juice" would come from real Hollywood prop items from my universe — like Terminator's sunglasses, or The One Ring from "The Lord Of The Rings," but again, some part of me felt that a lot, and it's not fully just about "Gate juice."
There was also some "magic" in Gates' inclinations towards artistry.
A combination of material and thinking about a specific universe doesn't force me to a specific design, yet it guided me towards efficiency. Not a mechanical kind, but a harmonious one.
And to something I still don't understand. Something undoubtedly metaphysical. Not emotional, nonetheless affronted by the idea that my sanding of the candleholder is closer to MMORPG-crafting than to magical alignment of incomprehensible aspects of reality, much older than the start of my transmigration journey.
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Fitting for the "Cruel Intentions" universe jadeite candleholder, and the fact that such a universe was an offshoot of my previous one, were great bonuses, nevertheless, just bonuses.
Three main reasons why I chose "Cruel Intentions" were different.
The first reason was personal - memories of the movie.
While related recollections lacked distinct personal details, their emotional tone told me that once upon a time, I really liked this movie. Most likely because of its relation to the much more important to me "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." Perhaps not. Whatever the reason, the movie was an important part of my past, and such things I tried at least to preserve and make my anchor.
The second reason came from a fact I recalled while watching TV after my chat with Madison.
A program mentioned the 1990s U.S. economic boom. Which made me think of the Dot-com bubble. The year it happened - 2002. And about the peak of the bubble's inflation - on the eve of the new millennium.
"Cruel Intentions" movie — Earth Aleph's one; a little different from what I remembered — didn't mention any years, yet it seemed logical that the plot's year was the same as the year of the film's release - 1999. Just months before the "Year 2000 problem" and many other opportunities to use my future knowledge and programming skills to quickly make millions from the very heart of New York, and with the backing of Crème de la crème of the USA financial society.
At the same time, enjoying and using the peak of Western civilization for all kinds of fun that I couldn't get on Earth‑Bet!
Which I both craved and feared. Very well understanding that "Power corrupts; absolute power corrupts absolutely" was an understatement. Absolute power didn’t corrupt; it didn't even free what was hidden inside; it amplified everything, both inside and outside.
And inside me was pressured by self-preservation instincts, disorientation. And outside - a deconstructive universe made for the sake of a downbeat emotional roller coaster.
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The third, and most important reason, appeared after I purchased "Self-Therapy I." Knowledge that — among many other things — gave me a much clearer understanding of the motivations of the "Cruel Intentions" main characters.
My initial worry about the universe stemmed from the main character's potential sociopathy.
But Self-Therapy, combined with attentive watching of the movie, clearly showed me that while Kathryn Merteuil and Sebastian Valmont indeed had many issues, such issues were more than manageable. And fully worth a relationship with three very intelligent, wealthy, connected persons, two of whom were insanely attractive women.
Plus, the availability of an even bigger "clean canvas" than Madison, which, with my resources, I potentially could shape into literally anything I wanted. From POTUS and CEO of the biggest corporation on earth to an analog of Sid Meier's Civilization Leader who would lead humanity towards the Golden Age and stars.
Why did I think that Cecile had enough potential for this? People don't create and visualize stories about mediocrity; they choose unique archetypes and circumstances, and develop them along the narrative vectors. And such vectors for Cecile were developed.
Far-fetched, I know; still, a possibility I should have to check.
When such optimism looked as if I had severely underestimated Kathryn Merteuil, this wasn't the case. If I were to do so, one small white cloud would be very upset with me.
I know, understand, and comprehend that Kathryn was a callous, manipulative, vindictive bitch in sheep's clothing... AND not a clinical sociopath, psychopath, sadist, or fully heartless abomination seeking cruelty for the sake of cruelty.
Yes, the writers, directors, and editors tried to portray Kathryn as a cold-hearted mastermind, highlighting only her worst traits.
Because Sarah Michelle Gellar’s mild demeanor didn’t match Kathryn's character, they even deleted a key scene - the moment Sebastian indeed struck her, triggering her hysteria and tragic consequences.
But alas…
Kathryn Merteuil was many things.
A spoiled brat from a dysfunctional, loveless family. Emotionally underdeveloped in attachment, yet overdeveloped in social manipulation and hedonism.
Full of spite and resentment because she was just as smart and amoral as her brother, yet instead of enjoying the complete freedom available to him and his father, "she had to act like pious Mary Sunshine 24/7" only because she was a woman. With obvious envy toward everything she aimed her "cruel intentions" misalignment rebellion at.
Bitter. Raging at her own abnormality, and painfully lonely. As shown in the balcony scene - with enormous fear that the moment she loses Sebastian's sexual interest, she will also lose the only person who can truly understand her.
With nascent dependence on cocaine, balancing her nascent depression. Why was she not upset about Sebastian's death? Because exactly in this aspect of life, she was very stupid and drugged, therefore, required some time to finally get it.
Kathryn Merteuil was many things. But a cold-hearted mastermind bitch?
Pfff.
Cold-hearted mastermind bitches aren’t suppressed sensual creatures with masks full of tiny cracks.
She wasn't like Cinder Fall and Bellatrix Lestrange. Not like Bakuda and Cersei Lannister. Not like Ashley Graves and Toga Himiko. Not even like Shadow Stalker and Azula. Each with its own level of sarcasm towards "I can fix her!" perspectives.
She was just a nastier and smarter version of Emma. Sort of suddenly stopped working monitor for a person with a multimeter, soldering iron, and a collection of condensers.
Protracted troubles.
Not that I planned to spend much time and effort on her and "Cruel Intentions" kickstarter towards more important things. Rather, skim over her simple emotional motivations, see how deep lie her dysfunctionalities, and calculate how much it would cost me a Sebastian-like redemption arc.
What if I was wrong about her?
Even in such a case, she was still far too ambitious, greedy, and smart to be the scorpion from that famous fable. At least during the first few weeks, which was more than enough for me.
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Switching through grades of sandpaper and polishing pastes, I spent a few hours increasing the candleholder’s value. By the end, it looked like a museum piece, and its material score had risen from an initial 37% to nearly 40%.
According to Gates' logic, from now on, this "Core" required a compatible "Outer Shell" and "Nuances" containing kinda concepts. Like wealth, elitism, antiquity, deception, self-sacrifice, and so on.
'If I had two identical candleholders, I could play with the symbolism of "gateway pillars" and produce a fairly small Gate...
Alas. Without a pair, I should add to this Core a symbolic pedestal.
At the same time, made from qualitative materials, so I could transport it later. And have very uniform material — or be in the form of a very few items — because each new component requires new "transitional" mediums and "compensation by details." Which in turn requires machine tools... and I already know enough about them to NOT want to start using them when I can help it.'
I groaned and covered tired eyes with tired hands. Again, remembering so many more convenient picks from CYOAs.
Give a man anything, and he will want more, indeed.
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After a fruitless search for cheap materials or items online, I turned my attention to completing orders. Mostly working on code refactoring for my three main clients. Yet, still trying to complete as many independent tasks as possible.
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Before bed, I tested the console that came with three cartridges. Lazily listening to the news about minor events... until the story about the Bad Canary trial...
'Holy fucking shit, Paige!' I groaned after the news and a little googling.
Neither changed my belief that she is predominantly innocent due to her naivety... at the same time, the scope of "predominantly" became significantly smaller.
Suppose there was a singer whose stage persona was BADass, bitchy, and essentially criminal. For example, with a music video structurally like Childish Gambino’s "This Is America", where she literally roams the city causing chaos... including obviously lethal car crashes.
Suppose she mastered her ex-boyfriend and instructed him to severely maim himself in a sexualized way. After which she started talking about "it's an accident... because he cheated me and wanted my money!"
Suppose that very soon surfaced information that during her concerts, she used her master power far beyond the PRT permits. And her managers secretly sold illegal recordings containing the master effect functioning as powerful area-of-effect intoxicants. According to some experts, habit-forming ones. The same was true for some of her public and private performances.
Suppose that even before the ex-boyfriend incident, many people, especially conservatives, disliked her. And afterward, fully shaped public opinion with the "We Told You So!" narrative.
How many people could believe that she is innocent, and that she is facing a "mockery trial"?
Canon clearly showed that the first part was accidental out of her naivety, and the rest was her managers' guilt. But during such a perfect shitstorm — too perfect — she has literally zero chances to convince anyone of her innocence.
For me, her case was predominantly a curiosity. Yen, not fully. It again raised a rather important philosophical question, which, in her case, sounded like this:
Out of all other contexts, which would be more moral out of the three:
Don't risk, and leave her to the Birdcage.
Propose her salvation from the Birdcage in exchange for 1 year of sexual services.
Preemptively save her, and thereafter, mildly but still, start imposing the idea that she owes me sexual payment for the taken risks and inconveniences?
Obviously, ignoring rather schizophrenic possibilities not related to her femininity and beauty.
If I really wanted to do "Big Good," then I should absolutely ignore her and start investing in preparing other good characters for Earth's Bet dangers. Or even better, in any possible way, avoiding deeds that could at least somehow reduce the chances of defeating Scion.
Only her femininity inclined the scales.
And I, what, at the same time should risk because of her femininity and ignore all functionality of it? What SFW madness it is?!
[The Worm — 09.01.2011 — Sunday]
Early in the morning, with the first visitors, I was already at Lord Street Market studying the contents of the stalls.
At first, I was disappointed. If I had started building the "Cruel Intentions" Gate from 1990s electronics, finding suitable items would have been absurdly easy. Though the final frame would clearly weigh many tons.
Finding items suitable for the aristocratic symbolism of the jadeite candleholder, however, was far trickier than I’d expected yesterday. Retroactively, rather predictably, since what was for sale came from not wealthy people, not aristocrats.
Some very rare items were right in essence but not in quantity. Some in quantity but not in size. Some were correct in both, but too expensive.
Finally, after at least 2 hours of wandering, I spotted a real treasure.
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I approached a man in his fifties standing by an open trunk of a station wagon.
Trying not to show too much interest, I started examining eleven fairly large old picture frames in the trunk.
With ugly peeling paint, many cracks, and fractures. And at the same time, made from thick, rot-free, expensive red and dark types of wood. Hand-carved, by someone who obviously wasn't an amateur, and who wasn't intended to do their work for an amateur's eyes.
Gate-sense told me even more. What I saw had a VALUE related to a long and complicated history. Judging by the visual appearance, at least 50-70 years old.
"How much for the frames?" I asked casually.
"Depends. These four frames by 75, and these by 50."
"Too much for me. Do you have anything cheaper?" I asked after a short pause.
"Why do you need them?" the man asked.
"For an art project. For the right price, I can use them as material."
"Oh, you’re an artist? My father was a painter... These are leftovers from his workshop," the man said, brightening.
"Aren’t we all artists, in a way?" I joked.
The man chuckled and nodded. "Indeed... no, these are all I still have."
"It's a pity," I said, disappointed, clearly about to walk away.
"What exactly do you need?" he suddenly asked.
Instead of answering, I paused for five seconds, carefully examining frames.
"I’m not sure I need a few. How much for all of them?"
The man considered. Then he carefully said, "I’ve already dropped the price as far as I could, but I think 600 will cover it, including delivery."
I wasn't sure how much I dropped the price, if any, but this was an excellent price even for unskillful restoration and an attempt to resell at least twice the price.
"I will take them. My car is in the west lot."
"Then 570. Hop in," said the man, and pointed with his hand at the side door.
"No— 600 is my last price," I answered with a short pause, and we both smiled as we got into the car.
Soon, we drove up to my car, and transferred the frames into the trunk and cabin, where they barely fit. After the man drove off, I examined the picture frames again, trying to understand what made them special.
'It's not "something," it's everything at once. Old yet sturdy; expensive, thick wood; the right color; master's carving, perhaps without any electronic tools; obviously related to some rich exhibition "story"; overall quantity and age. Plus a restoration potential that will elevate something that, so far, is worse than a jadeite candleholder, towards something adequate...
Dark red and bright green — exhibition — pop culture esotericism of the 1990s, with its Magic Crystals, a new wave of interest in Oriental philosophy — fear of Japanese economy and technologies — old and old; new and new?' I asked myself in a fully normal, inspired way.
'Seriously, Wildbow didn't invent this; he just popularized the concept! Rare Inspirational Flow up to dissociative fugue, isn't something available only to tinkers," I reassured myself after some Self-Therapy use and returning to the market.
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At the market, I bought tools for wood cleaning and, along the way, asked vendors about wood processing.
After this, I roughly calculated my remaining finances.
I had earned just over $600 from yesterday’s orders and received a $500 deposit for refactoring. So, with all expenses and money reserved for a date with Madison, I still could comfortably spend a couple of hundred dollars on something interesting.
After a little wandering through an already crowded market, I found exactly what I needed. An old Japanese phone with an excellent "ping," almost certainly because a similar phone was used in a movie, and a large 2009 tablet with a high-quality screen. Very cheap because of non-functional WiFi.
Already at the market exit, I spent the last "free" money on various small items that could prove I truly came from another universe: two simple MP3 players for 2000s music, a few thick cape-related almanacs from 2003–2007. And videotapes of the best 2000s films. Many of which I have already known from wiki pages, yet haven't watched.
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With great interest and ever reverence, I picked up one of the videocassettes.
With the K-PAX label.
The main plot and drama of the movie revolved around a mental patient who believes himself to be prot, an interstellar being who temporarily inhabited the body of a human.
The film's structure left open the question of whether this is true or not...
But my Gates power gave me the chance to find out by the universe's price assessment!
Yet.
Despite the temptation, I decided to leave this question for the proper "prot reveal party."
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'Fanfics are so unrealistic!
The Mask movie?
Become the canonical example of Changer powers.
Pulp Fiction? Meet the Parents? Die Hard? American Psycho? Mr & Mrs Smith? Home Alone? Rat Race? And so many others Cauldron's "we see potential to advertise parahumans - we use it" entertainment pieces?
The same!
Interacting with the people who canonically defeated Scion, eliminated Coil, defusing Echidna, and preparing for Leviathan is obviously important.
But to entirely ignore that Sacha Baron Cohen’s main personality is THE Mad Tinker?
That BOTH Earth Bet and Aleph versions of Grand Theft Auto IV revolve around capes?
That there are So Fucking Much More convenient fun activities than typical fanfics "entertainments," which in real life would have warranted only mental scars and a police convoy to a psychiatric ward?
Yeah! Sure, sure! Kurt Cobain is alive, and — as it is with Harrison Ford and Charlie Sheen — the Protectorate cape? What about it?
Heaven, I'm so glad that I'm just a transmigrator.'
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Back home, I carefully examined the frames I’d bought.
From what I have, I could already imagine a preliminary Gate shape. With a perfect forefront in the form of a 75x100cm unpainted thick dark-red wooden frame with the most sophisticated hand-carved pattern.
One of its sides had a break, the other a crack, but I also had a donor frame of the same wood.
From the materials, I still required only the best black velvet I could buy, gold foil, and good glue. Almost anything else was about cleaning, repair, and processing.
After a few quick sketches, I showered and began dressing for my date with Madison.