whoops?

[andaisq]

Morty knows he shouldn't be screwing around with multidimensional shit. It's dangerous, it's impractical, it's blah blah blah. But it's a potential key to unlimited energy, how does nobody see that? He's built a dimensional siphon (it kind of looks like a cardboard box with a funnel and a TI-84 taped to it, but it damn well works), keyed in the dimensional coordinates to a random plane, and by God he's going to use it.

He flips the switch and waits for the energy bar to fill up.

It does! It fills up very rapidly. Then it explodes, along with the box. There's rather more smoke than there should be, and once the smoke clears someone is standing there.

"Whoops?" Morty says faintly.

Comments

[andaisq]

Same here, really. People are just more familiar with devisors just sort of... doing stuff? I guess? Everybody takes gadgeteer vitamin supplements or lives in a hypersteel apartment complex or something, so it's sort of become an everyday thing, but wizards don't do as much in the public eye.

[subtly_artistic]

Why not?

[andaisq]

He shrugs. Less mass-production capability? If Algernon invents a new computerized ocular implant or something, he can make a factory to make more. Even if it's a true Devise, the kind that can only be built by hand by the one guy who came up with it, he can just do that as many times as he wants and sell it to as many people as he wants. Wizards are working from a finite source of energy. I think. That's what they say, at least. So they're not going to be flooding the market with enchanted backscratchers, they're going to save up for their own shadowy ends or whatever it is wizards do.

[subtly_artistic]

Huh. I don't actually know that much about industry in my world, but we have plenty of mass produced stuff, including magic stuff.

[andaisq]

Again the shrug. Also possible they just don't want to sully their dignified hands with menial labor. Wizards around here can get kind of prissy.

[subtly_artistic]

This is certainly going to be an interesting adjustment. Should you be telling some kind of authority figure I exist?

[andaisq]

Morty winces. May have been trying to put that off. In retrospect Hartford probably isn't going to have me thrown off a cliff by wild horses, but she is probably going to rip me a shiny new asshole. If that's an idiom you have.

[subtly_artistic]

I mean, of things that could happen to me this is much better than being eaten by a ghoul or something, so I'm not really mad at you, if that helps.

[andaisq]

It might! Somewhat! But there's still, like, the punishment element. The fact that accidentally plucking unsuspecting victims from their home universes into a world they never made is a bad thing. He waves a hand self-deprecatingly. That old saw.

[subtly_artistic]

Yes, I imagine most people you could have grabbed would be more upset about it.

[andaisq]

I get the feeling that's how they'll put it. And I'm very contrite! I recognize the potential consequences of my actions! ...Now that I'm no longer making them.

He gets up and makes his way phonewards.

[subtly_artistic]

Bella looks curiously at the phone but figures this isn't the time to ask.

[andaisq]

With palpable dread, he picks up the phone.

"Ms. Hartford! Um. How- yes, okay. Could I- yes. Could I speak to Mrs. Carson? I- yes, but- Code 8236? ...no, that's- dimensional summons. Accidental. Yes. Thank you."

He puts the handset down as gently as he can, much as one might a venomous snake. Well, she's in fine form. An administrator will be here in a minute or so, apparently.

[subtly_artistic]

Okay. Um, any tips on how I should act? I don't know if your administrators are like mine.

[andaisq]

Try not to seem like an extradimensional threat? You're probably good, the procedure for humanoids is "innocent unless obviously intending to murder someone".

[subtly_artistic]

...So if I were not a humanoid...?

[andaisq]

He shrugs. Minimally intrusive brain scan? They might want to do that anyway, but I don't think they'll stress the point, you don't seem very cagey. We're not, like, lizardperson racist, it's just easier to read people when they look more like us, and the folks in charge want to be sure when they're dealing with potential interdimensional shit. And if you had tentacles or something you might have your movements restricted a bit so the normies didn't see you and freak out, but that's just a practical concern.

[subtly_artistic]

I see. Well, I'm just a human. A subtle artist human who objects to brain scans. My shields are good enough for everyday at home, are they liable to be tested here...?

[andaisq]

Uh, psychics aren't supposed to read people or poke their brains without consent, but around campus it's... not as well enforced as you might want? If you're worried I'd go to Fubar and have him shoot some probes at you. He's, I think the most powerful psychic in the world? And he can probably do something like testing you against a Psi-1 and a Psi-2 and so on up the scale. He can't keep himself from getting a low-power impression of everyone around him, but pretty much any amount of shielding can keep that out, so I wouldn't worry.

[subtly_artistic]

Okay, sounds like a plan. Ugh, I didn't like having my shields rated the first time, but better under friendly circumstances.

[andaisq]

He's very nice. Probably you'll barely feel it, unless you've got some kind of psychic sensitivity, in which case I guess you might. But I get counseling from him sometimes, and I forget he's even reading me until he answers a question I didn't ask.

[subtly_artistic]

Sounds like he's good, then. If receptively uncontrolled.

[andaisq]

Yeah. Fringe benefits of turning into a horrible fish-monster, I guess. ...no, wait, actually he was psychic before he turned into a horrible fish-monster. Scratch that.

There is a knock at the window. Morty sighs and opens the blinds, revealing Mrs. Carson hovering in the air bearing a glowing platinum scepter.

[subtly_artistic]

Bella blinks at the hovering glowing-scepter lady, then bows politely as a hedge and attempts to figure out the window mechanism.

[andaisq]

Morty helps! The window opens sufficiently for Carson to swoop through.

"She doesn't speak English, but she's a telepath, so you can-"

"Thank you, Mr. Halliwell, that will be all," she says sharply. He wisely shuts up.

Hello. My name is Elizabeth Carson; I apologize for all of this, and promise that I will do everything in my power to set it right. Do you have any pressing needs?