Every day is a new start. Except for those days where your internal sense of time is disrupted by a loud and irritating console [BEEEEEEP.]
Welcome to Headquarters.
The Cafeteria’s new stringent food-providing standards have produced foodstuffs that are significantly less Glitter-drenched than previously before, although many Agents are claiming that the meatloaf is still wobbling suspiciously. Said Agents then proceeded to stab viciously at their meatloaf. It is not known at this time if they are functioning under a mass delusion.
The Time Lords of HQ have announced that they have created a Continuity Council to monitor their home continuum, that of the most mysterious and paradoxical land of Who. They are also very empathically not attempting to take over the PPC. The Dalek Council founded in opposition have offered no similar assurances, although they seem to be sporting new Daleks.
Upstairs have reminded us that the Auditoriums are not to be approached for any reason whatsoever, and most certainly have nothing to do with the sudden appearance of a decrepit beige photocopier that is suspiciously bigger on the inside. DoSAT has apprehended said photocopier for repairs. They say half of the accoutrements inside the photocopier have been put in place with Silly String. A word of advice: never glue your transportation devices together with Silly String. Or Serious String, for that matter.
Now, a look at our community calendar:
On Sunday, there will be a performance by A Troupe by Any Other Name of Shakespeare’s Othello, set in a busy seaside town in Telmar. As is usual by the members of this mysterious Shakespeare troupe, the casting is never revealed until the end of the show. However, there are rumours that Technician Neo Webber is playing Othello and that Cafeteria Worker Nerys Carpenter is playing Desdemona. Neither have confirmed nor denyed this, though we hear that Multiverse Monitor reporters have been distracted by Glitter in their attempts to procure interviews, enabling the two to get away.
On Monday, the Bleepka Bar will be offering a discount on all cocktails with names originating in the Discworld continuum. That means the Wizzard Blizzard and the Teething Luggage are being distributed at half-price, although both come with warnings of extreme amnesia and indigestion.
On Tuesday, there will be Ypurs strolling down the halls to the Mongoose Shelter. Please take caution and do not disturb them. Do not adopt the Ypurs. Do not touch them. Do not look at them. Do not even think of them.
On Wednesday, Agents Jacques Bonnefoy and Luxury will be staging a musical number involving coconut bras, a cardboard cutout of former Agent Dafydd Illian, and a boar’s head. The location of this musical number is unknown, and Agents are advised to take caution when wandering the dangerous and reality-bending halls of HQ, for fear of being press-ganged into participation.
On Thursday, the Cluedo Circuit at Rudi’s Pub moves into its annual championship round. Dalek Agent Omicron is facing off Agent Wobbles of the infamous children’s TV show. The betting pool currently contains a Winterwood minigun, a flask of Logic Water, and several dried pieces of lint.
On Friday, there will be Punctuation Rain near the lifts Upstairs. Do not attempt to contact Upstairs on Friday, although I highly suspect they do not want you contacting them any other day of the week as well. It is all too possible that they have scheduled the Punctuation Rain outside their lifts for this very reason.
On Saturday, Joel Whitegrass will present his exhibition of Extremely Lifelike Statues that are Definitely Not Petrified Mary Sues. Bring sunglasses and lemming repellent.
We have just received news that an Extremely Lifelike Statue that is Definitely Not a Petrified Mary Sue has appeared outside the Lobby, frozen in a glomping position – for reference, a glomp is a movement where a predator seeks to pounce upon its prey, but not necessarily in a hostile manner – while dressed in nothing but cellophane and chewed-up bubblegum. Passerby have called it various things, from ‘disgusting’ to ‘hilarious’. Any attempts to clothe the Sue have resulted in the clothes magically disappearing.
The intrepid and dashing Scientist Carlos is looking into this mass hallucination of mobile meat at the Cafeteria. He has commandeered the victims and is examining their brainwaves. I cannot help but marvel at his skills and his extremely well-coiffed hair. It is even better-styled than an Elf’s, but do not tell the Elves I said that.
What is it, Assistant Levi?
Threatening messages from the Elvish Agents? I am dreadfully sorry, but have any of you seen Scientist Carlos’s hair? No? Perhaps you will see the error of your ways. Now, a word from the sponsors.
Sometimes you stare into the darkness of the void, and the darkness stares back at you and whispers about the end of all days. Other times it tells you your socks are unlaundered. And sometimes it asks you if your hands are moist because you are harbouring thoughts towards a most irresistible fellow named Michael Cassio.
Love, intrigue, sex, and death. Isn’t that the stuff of most films and stories nowadays? No wonder Suvians are so fascinated with messing things up so that they can have love and sex, but not necessarily death. Unless, you know, the hackneyed sliver of cold, dead halibut that they call a ‘plot’ calls for it.
This message is brought to you by A Troupe by Any Other Name.
I hear, listeners, that there is a petition already being passed through the Agents to remove the tasteless Extremely Lifelike Statue outside the Lobby, on the grounds that it is tasteless and triggers bad memories of past missions, which most Agents try to repress through repeated dosages of Bleeprin. Naturally, those who have not signed the petition have taken to calling the Extremely Lifelike Statue ‘Greg’ and are taking selfies with it.
Scientist Carlos has told me (quite privately, and I was very flustered about the entire encounter) that the Agents that he is studying have all consumed the same thing prior to seeing their meatloaf move. Water. Yes, Water. The one with a capital W that sparkles and slips and drips unceasingly into the glittering void?
Upstairs has issued a warning to stay well away from Water at all costs, as it is apparently bringing back awful flashbacks of Slorp for those who consume it. It may also be connected to the unsettling feeling one receives upon witnessing the Extremely Lifelike Statue outside the Lobby.
That, Carlos says, is just the Aura of Smooth. It is remarkable that Whitegrass would be so accurate in his portrayal of an Extremely Lifelike Statue that is Definitely Not a Petrified Mary Sue that he would even preserve the Aura of Smooth that the Sue would have possessed before –
What’s that? The statue moved? Are the Extremely Lifelike Statues actually Weeping Angels? Carlos is getting concerned. I must go to him. Here, have the weather.
(The Weather: Television by You Won’t)
Crisis averted, folks. Looks like the Extremely Lifelike Statues were indeed Petrified Mary Sues, and have therefore been quarantined to be disposed of. Preferably with mallets and grenades. Mr Whitegrass has been taken in by some DIA Agents in suits and sunglasses for questioning. However, the Extremely Lifelike Statues did not, in fact, move at all; turns out the people who were suffering under the influence of Water had seen the Extremely Lifelike Statue and merely hallucinated it to be moving. Needless to say, that statue has since then been set on fire, blown apart, and sliced into tiny pieces. Never irk an extremely high Agent.
Sometimes the very reality of our existence is called into question. Are we truly here? Is here actually here? Is this Generic Surface, this concrit, these varying shades of grey with flamethrower char marks truly the reality that we call home, or are we all victims of a mass hallucination even deeper and more insidious than that of Water? What if, in another version of World One, we were all figments of someone’s – or someones’ – hyperactive imagination? But then again, that holds true for so many realities, so many alternate worlds. What is fictional in one is so very true in another, and even if we tried to look for every single continuum out there, we’d die trying. We’d be lost in the infinite expanse that is creative thought.
Stay tuned for the Lord of the Rings theme on the kazoo and birdcalls.
Good night, HQ. Good night.
((Notes: This may or may not be a Thing. I have no clue. I just needed to get this plotbunny out of the way. I don't think I caught Cecil's voice very clearly, but I'm not done with the WTNV series just yet.
Headquarters Community Radio. Possibly a reboot of the original PPC Radio hosted by Guilty Cin?))