enterthemikeverse

[enterthemikeverse]

Mike relaxes a little and sighs, not exactly disappointed but maybe let down that Amanystria wouldn't play along. "Alright, alright, I get it. You have your way, I have mine, and that's good. Keeps the scene vibrant. But I think I'll have to agree to disagree on the idea that imagination has limits, eh?"

Mike sets a business card down on Amanystria's desk. "Gimme a call if you want to give the other way a try. Or even if you don't, but just want to chat. I'm sure we can find a way to help the union work with you even if it can't quite keep track of you. Sound good, Doctor?"

Amanystria returns to his desk one fine summer afternoon, to find somebody familiar sitting in his chair. Or, somebody who should be familiar, but is less familiar than he should be. The thing is, this old man who's occupying his seat is unmistakably the same 30-something somnistate that visited him months ago, but. He's old. In his 60s by the look of him, and his eyes are a normal brown. But that smug smile on his face? That's definitely the same smile.

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

"When Dr Forrest told me I should expect an ‘interesting guest’, they never specified it was someone familiar. Oh, and don't worry about security, Kintraka and her colleagues rarely worry about guests of your stature and position. Oh, and to answer your question, I have PhD in both antimemetics and memetics, so I suppose that would make me a sort of expert in a way. Now, if you wouldn't mind letting me take my seat, that would be much appreciated."

[enterthemikeverse]

"Not exactly an MSU attitude, is it?" Mike chuckles, standing straight once again."If you were serious about joining, you wouldn't be coming up with reasons why it's impossible."

His little smile grows into a crooked grin, a gleam in his eyes, one quite common in the MSU according to Amanystria's investigations. The Fire of Prometheus, the Spark, the Crazy Eye of Genius, it has many names. But whatever the name, it always precedes moments of incredible and terrible apocalypse. "Come on, Doctor. Have a little imagination. A mad scientist never dares ask if they can; they know they can. All you have to worry about is the how, and how far you're willing to go to make it real. So tell me how you'll make it work. I'll do what I can to help."

Amanystria returns to his desk one fine summer afternoon, to find somebody familiar sitting in his chair. Or, somebody who should be familiar, but is less familiar than he should be. The thing is, this old man who's occupying his seat is unmistakably the same 30-something somnistate that visited him months ago, but. He's old. In his 60s by the look of him, and his eyes are a normal brown. But that smug smile on his face? That's definitely the same smile.

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

"When Dr Forrest told me I should expect an ‘interesting guest’, they never specified it was someone familiar. Oh, and don't worry about security, Kintraka and her colleagues rarely worry about guests of your stature and position. Oh, and to answer your question, I have PhD in both antimemetics and memetics, so I suppose that would make me a sort of expert in a way. Now, if you wouldn't mind letting me take my seat, that would be much appreciated."

[enterthemikeverse]

Mike considers their words carefully. "Yes, that could cause some problems, I suppose. Slipping out of people's minds does make collaboration and review a bit tricky."

"However," He adds, "It's not like the MSU isn't used to working around the quirks of its members. And there are ways to harden the mind against your particular quirks. I assume the people working with you at the EWO know who you are, yes? And if they know, then the means by which they know can be reverse-engineered and applied across the MSU if you wanted."

Mike leans forward, placing his palms against the desk, suddenly quiet, his brow furrowed with concentration and exertion. After a moment, it passes. "Where was I? Oh, yes. The problem of your antimemetics. Yes, I think you could help us solve it, and make a great impression on the Union in the process."

Amanystria returns to his desk one fine summer afternoon, to find somebody familiar sitting in his chair. Or, somebody who should be familiar, but is less familiar than he should be. The thing is, this old man who's occupying his seat is unmistakably the same 30-something somnistate that visited him months ago, but. He's old. In his 60s by the look of him, and his eyes are a normal brown. But that smug smile on his face? That's definitely the same smile.

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

"When Dr Forrest told me I should expect an ‘interesting guest’, they never specified it was someone familiar. Oh, and don't worry about security, Kintraka and her colleagues rarely worry about guests of your stature and position. Oh, and to answer your question, I have PhD in both antimemetics and memetics, so I suppose that would make me a sort of expert in a way. Now, if you wouldn't mind letting me take my seat, that would be much appreciated."

[enterthemikeverse]

"Familiar?" Mike asks, slowly standing from the chair to let Amanystria retake it. "I suppose that means you've met my dream counterpart, then?"

He stretches, groaning a little as he does so. "I do apologize for the unexpected visit, though. It's surprisingly hard to keep track of your contact information, even for somebody with my talents."

Mike smiles, training a surprisingly penetrating gaze on Amanystria. "I understand you've taken something of an interest in the Mad Scientists' Union, right? Maybe done a little poking and prodding into us to check us out?"

Amanystria returns to his desk one fine summer afternoon, to find somebody familiar sitting in his chair. Or, somebody who should be familiar, but is less familiar than he should be. The thing is, this old man who's occupying his seat is unmistakably the same 30-something somnistate that visited him months ago, but. He's old. In his 60s by the look of him, and his eyes are a normal brown. But that smug smile on his face? That's definitely the same smile.

"Hello. Amanystria Tokumei, if my calculations are correct? An expert in anti-memetics?"

He reaches out a hand to shake. "It was very hard to find you. What was less hard was evading your organization's security. You really need to harden this place against probabilistic infiltration. I literally just walked right in."

@enterthemikeverse

Amanystria sighs, checking her watch before putting down her cup of coffee.

"When Dr Forrest told me I should expect an ‘interesting guest’, they never specified it was someone familiar. Oh, and don't worry about security, Kintraka and her colleagues rarely worry about guests of your stature and position. Oh, and to answer your question, I have PhD in both antimemetics and memetics, so I suppose that would make me a sort of expert in a way. Now, if you wouldn't mind letting me take my seat, that would be much appreciated."

[enterthemikeverse]

7 & 8 for mike the knife?

7. Would I rather read to someone or be read to? Hm... depends on the circumstances, I guess. I did once help a young lady get her inheritance early... quite easy. Just gave her poor old grandfather a peculiar tea, read him an old story while he sipped it, and by the end of the night, my client was a multi-millionaire (even after my sizable cut was deducted)

8. Someone steals food from my plate, how do I react? Well, I don't really need to eat... but I enjoy retaliation. If I were in a good mood or it was somebody I trusted, I might let it slide... for a stranger, or if I needed a little pick-me-up? Well, I'd see how many fingers I could take off in one slice.

[enterthemikeverse]

another oc ask gameee hiiiii

(pro tip: name some ocs in the tags when you reblog this so newcomers can ask with ease, and be sure to send an ask to the person you reblog it from!)

Someone asks your character how they’re doing. How honest is their answer?

What’s something your character takes pride in, no matter what anybody else thinks?

How does your character act when they’re feeling bad physically?

How does your character act when they’re feeling bad mentally?

What sense is your character most likely to get overwhelmed by?

Describe a scenario that would make your character cry. Be as specific or as general as you’d like.

Would your character rather read to someone or be read to?

Someone steals a bit of food off your character's plate without asking. How do they react?

Does your character fit in well? With society in general? With a certain group of people?

What's an object your character uses everyday?

Think of an animal. Whatever first came to mind, how would your character fare if it attacked them?

Does your character go to the doctor, dentist, etc. as often as they should?

How would your character describe their gender? Even if they're purely binary or cis, are there any particular descriptors they might throw in?

Does your character regularly take any medication? Have they in the past?

What's your character's idea of a wild night on the town?

It's New Year's Eve, and your character is trying to stay up until midnight, whether they want to or not. How do they hold up?

Is there anybody your character is exceptionally close to?

Is there anybody your character really hates?

Think of somebody who has hurt your character. How does your character feel about that person?

What are your character's dietary habits like?

[enterthemikeverse]

"Ah, well, you see, I raise butterflies," Mike answers in a way that is just as likely to be a joke as serious.

"I'll send you the paper later. For now, how about you tell me what you've been working on lately. I understand the particular properties of OSHA lend themselves to some very, very interesting experiments, even before getting to the denizens."

Merlyn is, as she occasionally does, perusing some old papers and articles published on the many various databases of the Mad Scientist's Union, when she comes across something that comes as a small bit of a shock. She sees a paper, titled "Recursive Psychometry: the Paraphysics of Psionic Bonds," but the title is no surprise, it's fairly standard fare for parapsychology. No, what gives her pause is the author's name. One Michael Cook, PhD.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

Merlyn pays particularly close attention to the acknowledgements and credits, noting places she can look up more of the conversation around this topic as well as any mentions of Mike's current place of work.

[enterthemikeverse]

"Yeah, I thought you'd say that."

Mike pulls out a notepad. It contains... well the text on the pad isn't verbatim what she said, but it's close enough that it could be at some points mistaken for having been written as she spoke. A few mistakes and a missing sentence or a sentence she never actually said, but quite close.

"Those photos were taken when my methods were crude, rudimentary and hazy. I've refined my methodology considerably, parsing the superstition from the experimentally validated methodology. This one was from this morning... 'dates are easy enough to fake... wikipedia page...' Oh, you said 'monarch' but this says 'princess.' And... the part about seasons is missing. I might have to refine my algorithm a bit but even so, a solid B+ is definitely better than guessing."

"I'd love to see your work with time travel, though. Maybe it might be able to help me iron out some of my own problems. If I recall correctly, you did have a talent for giving me perspective I lacked."

Merlyn is, as she occasionally does, perusing some old papers and articles published on the many various databases of the Mad Scientist's Union, when she comes across something that comes as a small bit of a shock. She sees a paper, titled "Recursive Psychometry: the Paraphysics of Psionic Bonds," but the title is no surprise, it's fairly standard fare for parapsychology. No, what gives her pause is the author's name. One Michael Cook, PhD.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

Merlyn pays particularly close attention to the acknowledgements and credits, noting places she can look up more of the conversation around this topic as well as any mentions of Mike's current place of work.

[enterthemikeverse]

Jane glances down and notices that there's something on the back side.

"She will be found. But not alone. Keep talking."

Eerie. Jane and Ruby both glance up at Professor Cook, who's clearly deep in his lecture right now. Something about how you can find the fibonacci sequence in the spacing of bubble gum on the underside of park benches.

"...and 3, 2, 1."

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

Well... this guy sounds like Mike. An older, nerdier Mike. Maybe it's Mike's grandpa?

[enterthemikeverse]

"Now that our little impromptu demonstration of synchrometrics is out of the way... where was I?"

The Professor pauses for a good moment.

"Oh yes! The first and most fundamental principle of synchrometrics, or as I have taken to calling it," He smiles just a bi smugly, "Cook's First Maxim: 'Chaos is order that has yet to be discerned!'"

"Take our visitor for example. Nobody could have predicted purely from physical or probabilistic information that she would appear, and yet I knew she'd be here! All I had to do was refuse to accept the existence of randomness."

As the Professor talks, he points to words on his whiteboard. "Of course, that is only half the story. The other half is Cook's Second Maxim: 'Order is chaos put to narrative.'"

That gets a groan from one student, who gets up and leaves, complaining about something called "pataphysics" as the Professor ignores him and continues. Somebody always dips in the first lesson.

The Professor keeps on going, with him only very occasionally glancing over toward Jane and Ruby, almost like he expects something to happen. Jane glances down and sees a note on the floor at her feet. Reaching down, she reads it and is just a bit surprised to recognize Mike's handwriting. The note reads, "I don't know why, but the math tells me that this note must read 'talk to her.'"

"...and 3, 2, 1."

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

Well... this guy sounds like Mike. An older, nerdier Mike. Maybe it's Mike's grandpa?

[enterthemikeverse]

"This is Introductory Synchrometry. And I believe there's an open seat right over... there!" The Professor points to an empty seat... next to an uncomfortably familiar face. Ruby.

"Yes, that seat should do fine. Don't worry about answering any questions, dear, just have a seat and listen along. Once I'm done I can take you home. My counterpart can't really see or hear this campus for reasons too complex to explain."

"...and 3, 2, 1."

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

Well... this guy sounds like Mike. An older, nerdier Mike. Maybe it's Mike's grandpa?

[enterthemikeverse]

"Ah. And I see you're plural as well. I've had a tulpa or two in my day!" the Professor remarks, grabbing onto her arm to help tug her out of the wall, despite his strength being frankly negligible compared to Jane's. "But yes, I believe I know the Mike that Jackie refers to. Though I must say, you and Jackie look quite different than you did when I knew you."

Jane is no longer clipped into the wall, now able to stand upright before the class. "You're quite a bit taller, for one."

The class is watching this exchange with more than a bit of confusion, but Jane gets the vibe that "confusion" is sort of the usual emotion in this lecture hall.

"So, do you need any help getting back home to OSHA, or did you want to stay and sit in on the rest of the lecture? This is a fairly introductory lesson, so you might be able to keep up."

"...and 3, 2, 1."

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

Well... this guy sounds like Mike. An older, nerdier Mike. Maybe it's Mike's grandpa?

[enterthemikeverse]

Mike smiles mysteriously, fiddling with a dial on his pocket watch. Suddenly, a gust of wind blusters through, sweeping away the rain clouds. "Ah, good, just as I forecast," He smirks mysteriously, in that particular way that a magician does after performing a complicated illusion.

"I know very, very little of what goes on here. All I really have is whatever scraps that come from your work or Mr. Donovan's. But I am eager to find out more in time. However, I think I can say that the few events I've gleaned line up with my predictions."

He lays out a few polaroid photos of what appear to be trios of tarot cards, picking up one. "For you: The Emperor, the Ace of Cups, The Lovers. Authority, spirituality, and partnership. You did attract the eye of a god, did you not?"

Mike continues, "The Empress, the Five of Cups, the Star. Motherhood, grief, rejuvenation. Your daughter Jackie, met with a grim and terrible fate before being revived."

He picks up one more polaroid. "And one more... Ah! Reversed Seven of Wands, Seven of Cups, and a Reversed Eight of Swords. That one, I believe, describes your childhood: Destroyed confidence, searching for meaning, freedom."

All decent, if vague descriptions of things that have happened to Merlyn, but one thing stands out. Labels and dates. The first is labeled "Imperator, 1/3/97", the second "Resurrection, 2/6/94", and the third "Princess, 8/12/91." These all were taken when she was a child, years or decades in advance of the events.

"Of course, if you're not convinced by that, I wouldn't blame you. I made these early in my career, when I was more and artist than a scientist."

Merlyn is, as she occasionally does, perusing some old papers and articles published on the many various databases of the Mad Scientist's Union, when she comes across something that comes as a small bit of a shock. She sees a paper, titled "Recursive Psychometry: the Paraphysics of Psionic Bonds," but the title is no surprise, it's fairly standard fare for parapsychology. No, what gives her pause is the author's name. One Michael Cook, PhD.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

Merlyn pays particularly close attention to the acknowledgements and credits, noting places she can look up more of the conversation around this topic as well as any mentions of Mike's current place of work.

[enterthemikeverse]

"...and 3, 2, 1."

Immediately after Professor Cook utters '1', Jane appears halfway inside the wall of the room.

"beuh. Where am I. I sense there's a when am I, also."

She glances to her side.

"Hi Dad. Feeling older today?"

The class chuckles at that, while Professor Cook raises an eyebrow in mild confusion.

"Ahem, no, I think you have me confused with somebody else. No, I'm Professor Michael Cook, and I teach parapsychology and sundry other fringe disciplines here at the University of Chicago."

The Professor turns to his class, "As you can see, due to the nature of synchrometric phenomena, it is hard to predict the nature of a phenomenon if you already know the location of it. This is an example of..."

The Professor trails off, and a student raises their hand before answering, "Modified Heisenberg Uncertainty?"

"Yes! Excellent. As you all know, synchrometry is one of the only areas where classical and quantum can connect, and as a result, it's the only situation where classically-sized objects are directly subject to quantum phenomena. Now, my young, somewhat feline visitor, how about you introduce yourself to the class! We're always happy to meet strange new people!"

Well... this guy sounds like Mike. An older, nerdier Mike. Maybe it's Mike's grandpa?

[enterthemikeverse]

Mike chuckles, the same laugh she's heard him laugh, though a bit raspier, a voice worn by time. "Well. It's less that I was looking to find you, and rather that it was always going to happen. Destiny, fate, the deterministic outcome of the universe." Mike spreads his arms wide apart. "And that's actually the core of synchrometry."

"It's a discipline of parapsychology that I personally pioneered. I woke up in my apartment one night in 1988, having been plagued for weeks by dreams that I was working in a cafeteria that catered to the strange and monstrous, to realize that the experience changed me. I could sense things before they happened, feel impressions of the past in objects I held."

"Maybe I was always this way... I remember my mom used to say that gifts ran in my family, I assumed she was just speaking euphemistically about my neurodivergences, but... she did have anuncanny intuition, as did my grandpa."

Mike takes another sip of tea, "And so I started reading. Conventional science couldn't explain it. But unconventional science could. The fringes of human knowledge were where I found answers. Everything has a mind, and those minds are connected. With the rise of the internet, I began publishing on rarely-visited forums and message boards, performing experiments. I learned to read minds, to project myself across the country, and even to predict the future with mathematical precision... to a certain degree of certainty."

"Synchrometry: The study of coincidence, serendipity, and eventuality. The mysteries of luck and chance laid bare to mortal cognition, the yielding of chaos to order." Mike's tone changes slightly. The way he's talking... it sounds like so many professors and colleagues she's known from her time in the Union. This Mike has harnessed found Prometheus's Fire, and he doesn't care if he might burn himself with it. "With my methods... I can predict the unpredictable, and to a degree I can influence it. I didn't bring you to me, but I knew you would find me in time. All I had to do was show up that night, three years ago. Everything there was dominos."

He takes another sip, "I understand that those dominoes carried quite a bit of distress. You experienced loss and terror and heartbreak in the intervening years. I'm sorry I couldn't intercede, but those dominoes would have fallen regardless. All I did was put them in motion at the right time and place that one would fall into you, at your computer, finding my paper and triggering an automated email."

Oh. It was just set up to email her automatically when she opened it? the simplicity of it is staggering. Thought it makes it hard to parse whether Mike is a genius or a charlatan or both.

Merlyn is, as she occasionally does, perusing some old papers and articles published on the many various databases of the Mad Scientist's Union, when she comes across something that comes as a small bit of a shock. She sees a paper, titled "Recursive Psychometry: the Paraphysics of Psionic Bonds," but the title is no surprise, it's fairly standard fare for parapsychology. No, what gives her pause is the author's name. One Michael Cook, PhD.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

Merlyn pays particularly close attention to the acknowledgements and credits, noting places she can look up more of the conversation around this topic as well as any mentions of Mike's current place of work.

[enterthemikeverse]

"Indeed," Mike nods, gratefully accepting the tea and unscrewing the lid to take a sip. "Never was quite able to reproduce this tea." He remarks. "It's good to taste it again."

"I imagine you're a little surprised to see my scientific accomplishments. I recall that when you knew me, I never quite had the head for the laboratory, my enthusiasm notwithstanding. Or did you have questions about how and when I found you? Synchrometry is a rather arcane discipline."

Mike raises an eyebrow, "Or maybe you're curious if I'm even real, or if I'm just another discarded dream..."

Merlyn is, as she occasionally does, perusing some old papers and articles published on the many various databases of the Mad Scientist's Union, when she comes across something that comes as a small bit of a shock. She sees a paper, titled "Recursive Psychometry: the Paraphysics of Psionic Bonds," but the title is no surprise, it's fairly standard fare for parapsychology. No, what gives her pause is the author's name. One Michael Cook, PhD.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

Merlyn pays particularly close attention to the acknowledgements and credits, noting places she can look up more of the conversation around this topic as well as any mentions of Mike's current place of work.

[enterthemikeverse]

And, as expected, Mike is right there, sitting on a stump, with another stump open next to him. He greets Merlyn with a smile and a wave, "Good, I had my math right. I was worried I'd forgotten to carry a one somewhere."

"Please, please, have a seat, I know you have so many questions. But first, let me reintroduce myself. I'm Professor Michael Cook, PhD. I teach Parapsychology at the University of Chicago's shadow campus."

He's certainly dressed like a professor: button-down shirt, tweed jacket, suspenders, slacks and brown bluchers. It almost seems like he's trying to look like what somebody in the 80s thought a college professor looked like, but it seems natural all the same. It feels a little strange seeing Mike like this, his hair gray and his eyes a normal human brown instead of the array of stars. But as much as she knows this isn't the same Mike she knows, she also knows that it's very much the same Mike.

Merlyn is, as she occasionally does, perusing some old papers and articles published on the many various databases of the Mad Scientist's Union, when she comes across something that comes as a small bit of a shock. She sees a paper, titled "Recursive Psychometry: the Paraphysics of Psionic Bonds," but the title is no surprise, it's fairly standard fare for parapsychology. No, what gives her pause is the author's name. One Michael Cook, PhD.

She clicks the link on the name, expecting it to be a coincidence, but to her shock, she sees a face that's all too familiar staring back at her when the page loads. Not only because it resembles the Mike she knows, but because it also resembles a different, older Mike, one she briefly met three years ago, when Mike didn't even know what he was.

This Michael Cook, PhD., is the same old man who told them Mike's nature as a living dream, plus or minus a wrinkle or two. And he's in the union. Has been for decades.

@enterthemikeverse

Merlyn glares at the screen for several moments, fingers laced together, as they ponder what to do with this discovery. That there is another Mike running about is no surprise - so many alternates of so many people have come and gone here - but this placement is decidedly odd.

They do read the paper, though it is a bit outside her usual wheelhouse, if for no other reason than because it feels rude not to now. Particularly if she's going to try and contact him because of it.

Merlyn pays particularly close attention to the acknowledgements and credits, noting places she can look up more of the conversation around this topic as well as any mentions of Mike's current place of work.