“There are three great schools of magic you will need to master, Chosen One,” Opaem intoned, his spidery fingers tented in front of the glittering gold threads of his mage robes.

“And…how long do I have to master them?” Brianna said, putting a hand on her hip.

“Seven days,” Opaem said, confidently. Before his charge could utter more than a surprised yelp, he went on: “The first school is that of the natural world at its most base, which we represent with a stone. The second school is that of the living or formerly living, which we represent with vellum. The final, and perhaps most difficult school is that of the manufactured, which we represent with these tempered steel shears.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Brianna. “A rock, a piece of paper, and a pair of scissors?”

“They are merely symbols,” said Opaem, though his long pointed ears clearly quivered with annoyance. “Now, the great cycle that is the magic of the Beyond is thus: the natural defeats the manufactured, the manufactured defeats the living, and the living defeats the natural.”

“That is literally just rock-paper-scissors!” Brianna cried.

“I suppose you could use that mnemonic to describe it,” Opaem said. “A great boulder may smash a finely-wrought blade, but that same blade will cleave parchment in Twain, and-“

Brianna tossed up her hands, nearly losing her Fifth Avenue bangle in the process. “Yeah! I know! Rock crushes scissors, scissors cut paper, paper covers rock! This is the dumbest magic system I’ve ever heard!”

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I noticed a post from an old friend
Half forgotten on my media feed
Clicked and looked, catching up
Without words in the digital way
Scrolling backwards I saw they’d had
A baby, and every photograph was of
A new milestone, often with labels
Done up nice on flowery chalkboards
Then there were posts of a tropical
Vacation, spouse in tow, all smiles
The feed went back to how it had been
But I could feel it there, unspoken
In between the images, amid the posts
A loss so near and dear that it could not
Be contained in a digital world, especially
One that demands only happiness

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“IT’S ALL A DREAM” was the title of the first book.

I threw it aside, and took up a magazine. “SCIENTISTS ASK: IS EVERYTHING REALLY REAL?” blared a headline.

Dropping it back in place, I grasped for a candy bar instead. “CLOUD 9: AN IMPOSSIBLY DELICIOUS DREAM BAR.”

“I get the feeling someone’s trying to send me a message,” I said. “If only they’d be a little clearer.”

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I would die for my country
The star-spangled t-shirt asserts
As the wearer curtly refuses
A simple jab in the arm
To protect their neighbor
You should die for my comfort

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The ideologies of all the conquered peoples were declared to be part of the central religion, later known as the Imperial Monomyth but at the time simply known as ‘the rituals and the words.’ Where the various beliefs could be syncretized, they were, and the incompatible portions were declared to be mistranslations, misrememberings, or the work of the Menacer. This had the effect of gradually introducing worship of the Imperial family and Imperial gods into conquered areas, with the result that, to modern laymen, the Imperial Monomyth seems like an imperial monolith, homogeneous and unchanging. This is, of course, a simplification and even at the very height of the Imperial Monomyth’s influence there was a dazzling array of cults, sects, splinter groups, and the like radiating out from the central orthodoxy like spokes on a wheel.

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Q: Why did the other apes find the evolution of bipedalism in humans so funny?

A: To them, it was stand up comedy.

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“Passionate is just another way of saying spoiled,” Robert said. “How bad can it be?”

“Well, right now he is locked in his room with the self-declared goal to starve himself and undergo the process of sokushinbutsu or self-mummification.”

“And what, ah, brought that on?”

“They stopped making his favorite coffee drink at Starbucks.”

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I can feel the pressure changing
Before the thunderstorms arrive
I can tell if they’ll be bad or not
By the number of nostrils that work

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“I’m afraid that we have a diagnosis on your son’s condition,” the doctor said. “Attention deficit hypnoactive disorder.”

“It’s hyperactivity?” Timmy’s mother said, clutching her purse. “Oh, I just knew that’s what it was.”

“No, no,” the doctor said. “You misunderstand. Hypnoactivity. Your son can hypnotize others and cloud their minds into doing his bidding.”

Timmy’s mother looked out through the one-way glass into the play area, where a gaggle of other children, slack-jawed and drooling, were following Timmy around and obeying his every command.

“Now that you mention it, that diagnosis makes a lot of sense,” she said. “Is there a medication or something we can put him on?”

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The Sagebrush Mountain Incident has had an outsized footprint in popular culture in the years following 1997. It was helped by the early internet, which spread the information as a brutal and unsolvable mystery–a process that continues to this day, as it is a notable feature of YouTube videos and clickbait lists of American mysteries (or murders). Its reputation as the “American Dyatlov Pass Incident,” an appellation it could easily share with other mysteries like the Yuba County Five, has doubtless contributed to this over the years. But anyone who has done serious research or writing on the subject is invariably asked: “what do you think really happened?”

There is, of course, no way to know for sure. All the witnesses are dead, the investigators have retired, and John Smithson no longer grants interviews on the subject. He was 51 years old in 1997, and at 75 years old as of this writing surely his memories of the incident, other than what is documented on his tapes, is fading. However, one sequence of events does seem to be the most likely given the information available, and it is sadly nowhere near as melodramatic or sensationalistic as the furor around the deaths might suggest.

In this version of events, Patricia Mercer puts together a hiking team by calling on her current and former high school students as well as her only daughter. Her motivation seems to have initially been to be a more active hiker, as her boyfriend was, since Ms. Mercer’s hiking and climbing activities had fallen off in the previous few years. However, increasing delays, difficulties securing permission, and clashes with her daughter appear to have bred a case of the sunk cost fallacy–having put so much effort into preparing the hike, Ms. Mercer was unwilling to abandon it despite clear signs of trouble.

Although the group consisted of several experienced sportsman, a former Boy Scout, and were in good physical health, there were a number of frozen interpersonal conflicts among the various group members that would have made a harmonious hiking experience almost impossible–something Mercer might have suspected, even if she had not know for sure. Furthermore, the weather forecast had been looking progressively bleaker and it should have been clear on the morning that the hikers set out that it was going to be much more difficult than they had anticipated. But still, the trip went on.

The inclement weather, which would have quickly soaked the hikers, and the unfamiliarity of the terrain meant that they would have fallen further and further behind, with an ever-faster pace being required to meet milestones. This, along with the personality conflicts in the group, would have further weakened the group emotionally and physically. It is speculated, though unproven, that the hikers burned through their food at an accelerated rate and may have been put on half-rations midway through the trip.

All of these factors, plus the high altitude, were enough to cause William Reznik’s weak heart to begin to fail. The early signs of a fatal cardiac episode can look like fatigue or even laziness, which may have exacerbated the situation; when Reznik died, Mercer’s CPR having failed, that was the catalyst for the group to completely break with reality. Mass hysteria, fugue states, or something similar; the shock of Reznik’s death caused the other hikers to attack each other and themselves, particularly Mercer, who would have felt a strong sense of culpability, and Maria Cruz, Reznik’s girlfriend. Carrie Mercer and Cassidy Daniels were the only ones to react by fleeing; simply and instinctively choosing another part of the “fight or flight” response. The others, exhausted or wounded, would have succumbed to the elements or animal attacks some time later.

The fact that Mercer and Daniels fled not in any organized fashion, but instinctively and in an altered state of consciousness, explains their inability to find their way down the mountain, their hallucinations, and Carrie Mercer’s disappearance. It is likely the younger Ms. Mercer simply wandered away and died of exposure. Furthermore, the elevated levels of stress, lack of food, and harsh conditions–perhaps aggravated by eating some toxic plants–caused Daniels to experience the organ failure that later killed her after rescue.

Granted, this sequence of events does not and cannot explain many of the strange coincidences and contradictions inherent in the case. Then again, nothing can. Perhaps every case, every disppearence, indeed every moment of our lives is rife with such oddities–but it is only in sifting for truth after something tragic that they make themselves known.

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