TIMEZONE!!!!!
The Three Impostors
PROLOGUE
LONDON- 1902
"But Mr. Greyson, why would you say such a thing?"
"My dear Phillips, it is simplicity itself and itself simplicity. There is a heap of evidence to the contrary and no evidence to support its existence. How could a rational man of the high gentry support the assertion?"
The two men were sitting, English, in the rotting shell of an old manor of the British royalty, the wall of which were beginning to sag under the weight of countless seasons. The hazel trees were swaying from side to side and the various lawn-rabbits scuffled about quite unimpeded by the anti-vermin netting devices installed by the late Queen Elizabeth.
"Mr. Greyson, you cannot be serious, the American theory has held for nearly a century, many do no even consider it to be a theory, but count it as fact. I might understand how the Civil War Theory (CWT) should come into slight question, considering the inconsistencies with the Sea-March Algorithms (CMAs), but surely many will consider it an affront to their faith it you question such a basic tenet of Grand Theory of North-American Everything (GTNAE)."
"Phillips, it is all very well that you question the validity of mere trifling speculation, but I am positively certain that your complains shall not stand up to substantive facts."
And with this, Mr. Greyson pulled out of his pocked an old piece of parchment, such as the kind used in the late 18th century. It bore the proud insignia of the Crown and was written in elegant but clearly insane handwriting. He carefully and lovingly untied the intestine-ribbon and unrolled the scroll.
"Greyson, my god, is that a letter from George III?"
"Why yes, Phillips, it is. I found it in the Museum."
PART I-- An Incident in Red
Greyson walked down the cobble-stone streets of London to the Buckingham College for the Aristocratically-Inclined, the most prestigious of the Westhamshire colleges and the home of the leading America-Theory institute in London. The sky was a dim shade of brown through which chilly breezes scuttled and fell, stirring up leaves and dust from the London by-ways. Greyson reached the college steps and found his way through the labyrinthine hedges and into the Byron Conference Hall where the most highly regarded GTNAE fellows were meeting for the annual conference on CWT.
Greyson was a man of literary and figurative tastes, always interested reading books by famous people. But he was also fascinated in the occult and the theoretical. And so, during a stay in East Northumbria two years earlier, he became interested in the problems of GTNAE. Traveling from his simple cottage on the Thames by parliament, he had made the acquaintance of several prominent scholars in GTNAE in the intellectuals' tavern, where only the finest of 2000 year old Roman wines were sipped and spit into bowls for the poor. A friend had drawn his attention to this meeting at Byron Conference Hall, and Greyson took up the task with the utmost eagerness.
He was three-minutes late, and the conference had already begun.
A large man wearing dim spectacles stood at the podium, reporting on the latest algorithm studies:
"Clearly, good and decent honorable colleagues, the anti-plasmodomidal key-phiniol formulae PROVE the existence of a distinct "Americish Accent."
The assembled scholars broke into an uproar, neighbor argued with neighbor and friend with friend.
"Silence! Silence!" called the Arbiter of the House.
The crowd only grew louder in the paling light of the setting dusk. The speaker shouted again and again until, having grown impatient and his face having become a profound shade of purple, he went away. Greyson could have sworn that there was an explosion of flesh, but he only saw the event out of the corner of his eye. Wiping some mysterious red fleshy-like material off their brows, the mob of scholars quieted, and the speaker continued.
"As I was bombasting, my good and decent honorable colleagues, I have created a potentially accurate version of the Americish Dialect. I shall now read The Holy Bible in The Dialect:
"
1 Een duh begeennin' Godh cree'ted duh heeven un duh erf.
2 Un duh erf wuz wifowt vorm, un voit; un durknez wuz upuh duh vaec uh duh deep. uh de Spurt uh Gut moof upuh d vaec uh de wutr.
..."
As the speaker finished Isaiah 32:4, Greyson noticed a thin and disheveled young man with an oddly round head next to him writing something in a small notebook hidden on his lap. The letters were indistinct at first, but as Greyson's eye adjusted to the darkness under the conference table, he could make out some writing:
"[α'βψ/fφ! Γψφ Γψρ //] => [Αδς++] !!! DISCALCULON !!!"
Then a door opened on the far side of the room and a well-dressed and powerful man entered the hall. Greyson's mysterious neighbor looked up with a twitching motion of his neck and his eyes widened. He abruptly dropped the notebook on the floor and exited from a door opposite to the one previously opened by the well-dressed man. The latter briskly walked across and then out of the room, apparently in pursuit of the round-headed young man.
Greyson picked up the note book and began to examine the notes. There were dozens of pages of text, but only the last was written in the hand of the young man. Examining the earlier pages, Greyson realized that it told a story of sorts:
"Dear friends and colleagues of the Maximilian Council, I, Ruford Schwalwac, am proud to distribute this copy of the LINCOLN SOLUTION BETA, which, I belief, will finally solve the difficulties in reconciling the Aminist-Zero/Null/Beta Discontinuum with the Particle Anthropy. Yes yes, I am aware, many members will find any solution impossible to believe given the circumstances and the late theoretical crisis, but I assure all members of this most hallowed organization that this component of the theory is absolutely sound and that it will indeed PROVE, yes, PROVE undeniably the American theory. Finally our task will be complete and control of Parliament and of the Throne will be a foregone conclusion. Furthermore, we are certain that the Roundheads will be entirely crushed by the academic success of the theory. Never again will any person find a DISCALCULON in our theoretical structures! But it is now proper that I commence in the explanation of the LINCOLN SOLUTION BETA:
THE TALE OF THE NEW PRESITENT
Lincoln, a tall man who constantly wore a tall hat, sat back in his modified hat-stool. It was election day, and he wanted to win. In America, winning an election of any kind qualified one to be a "Presitent," a word that might translate as "War Chief" in English. (Billington, 1901; R.M. Chester, 1790) On the horizon, a courier rode over the lakes and mountains that compose approx. 92.357% of America. (cf. Gordon et al.) Lincoln knew that this was the moment in which his entire future was to be decided. The courier arrived and stood on the threshold of the crystal-pyramid in which the Americi people lived. Lincoln called out:
"Tell me. What is the news." (cf. Billington, 1834:f "See me. Where is the speech?!?")
The courier made no reply, but drew a long war-sickle and hurled it at Lincoln. Ducking quickly, he manage to avoid the first shot, but the second sickle got him in the arm. Grabbing an Americish Flag on a tree stump, he built a "rail-road" and escaped in a log "cabin."
It turned out that Lincoln had won the election, but the Demokertic Tribes banded together and sent an assassin disguised as a courier to kill their victorious opponent. Having failed, the Demokertic tribes raided the Continent of Aphrika (cf. Harding et al., 1900:a for Aphrika Theory) and stole 3 million black-skinned persons and took them to the "South" of America. (note: Dickens 1895 claims phylogenic proof of a "North-Western Rebellion"). Here, they broke away from America and enslaved the Aphrikan slaves. Lincoln gathered his Vais-Presitents (Sub-War-Chiefs) and declared war on the new nation of "The Confucian States of America." (Note: Williams disputes the Confucian theocratic theory on the grounds of 3'β instability, but the Maximilian Council disproved and "horribly strangled" Williams at the 1900 Byron meetings.)
The Confucian States had an election day of their own in 1861. Using the traditional "Pebbles-in-Distress" method (Garfield and Kent, 1890:c), Jeversen Devis became the first "Enlightened-Harmonious-State-Administrator" of the Confucian States. Lincoln, a man of great emotional presence, rallied up soldiers to fight against the Confucians. But the Confucians, with their witty and profound quips, managed to outmaneuver the Northern armies until 1863, when they lost at the Battle of Tahoe. The mountain snow probably did them in. After this point, the Sea-March occurred, during which a Vais-Presitent named Sirmon dug a canal into the Confucian States and flooded them. (cf. "Sea-March Algorithms" Blacke, 1901"). Having won the war when "Hauncho" ROBert E. Lee surrendered outside of the great crystal pyramid of Richmoend, Lincoln's arch rival--the courier, managed to impale him with an octopoid-ray-gun at a festival for Jesus: Mithras Incarnate.
---
Greyson finished the passage in sheer astonishment. He knew that the CWT was the primary obstacle in the completion of the GTNAE, but he had never guessed that it could already be finished. But why had no one heard of this yet? Why were they still having these meetings if a solution had already been found?
Then he realized it: the round-headed man had taken the note-book from the Maximilian Council before it could be published. Yes, the date in the notebook read March 1902, and it was now well into April. That would explain why the man was being chased...
then Greyson remembered something, the young man had written a passage on the last page:
"[α'βψ/fφ! Γψφ Γψρ //] => [Αδς++] !!! DISCALCULON !!!"
Greyson could read a bit of GTNAE notation:
"alpha prime diagonast of beta-substrate psi interferonase microphiniol "f"-r-phi -conjugation- with double-set Gamma-set-Gamma psi-phi anti-substrate minus idem-psi-rho anti-calculon SUMATION FACTOR 2 implies Aliophininedeltabiolasesigmatic Doubleantifactor!"
Anyone with even cursory knowledge of diakinetic Americi theory knows that an Aliophininedeltabiolasesigmatic Doubleantifactor implied by an alpha set can mean only one thing: a critical DISCALCULON!
That means that the Maximilian Council's great project, their final weapon, was fundamentally flawed. The Maximilian Council was the fabled murderous secret-organization that strove to finally prove the America theory and use it as a weapon against nay-sayers in Parliament and the King himself, all of whom had long ago taken the conservative stance of neutrality on the America theory. Of course, proof of the theory would destroy their reputations and cause a political revolution in England, letting the secret Maximilian Society rule the country!
Greyson left the meeting at once, determined to inspect the notebook further. He held the red book freely at his side, not minding that others might see its distinctive color and shape (a bull's eye with a skull and cross bones). As he was heading down Mapleshireton Street, a young lady dropped her stack of books and cabbages (which are notoriously difficult and dangerous to pick up). Greyson instinctively helped her. She introduced herself.
"Oh dear, I must apologize most profusely, for I am embarrassed. I am Miss Laidly Stratford, a governess for the Dyson family."
"It is absolutely no disappointment to me that I offer my assistance, Miss Stratford. I am Greyson. I live on 235 Appleton Street, the combination to my safe is 23-13-2-9, and here is a key to my house." He handed her the key, as was his custom whenever he met strangers. Of course, he never suspected that Miss Laidly was an IMPOSTOR.
"Why thank you, Mr. Greyson, I will be sure NOT to take advantage of your misguided friendliness. But I must tell you why I have so many books."
"I would be delighted to hear, Miss Stanton."
And so the young lady narrated
THE STORY OF THE LANDING
I was only 15 when my Brother Alfred joined the Navy so that he might send back funds to our impoverished household. He was like a father to me, since my real father worked in the tavern as a table, and, since furniture is not supposed to move nor talk, I rarely saw and never spoke to him. My brother sailed for two years until nearly 1898. It was then that the disaster struck: his ship was lost at sea and he was presumed dead. We held the funeral, but I never gave up hope that he was alive.
And in 1901, my hoping was rewarded with fact. I began to receive letters in my Brother's handwriting and stamped with his seal. There is no doubt! It is him. And it is only the Lord's marvelous will that he is alive. But even more amazing is the content of these letters! Alfred is in America! Yes, it is difficult to believe, but it is true. He says that the Americi are a friendly people and that they use their trained eagles to relay the messages to my home. I have seen them too, outside of my house at the break of dawn.
Alfred told me to bring him books on matters the English Language so that he might educate the Americi in the ways of English culture and society. But it is also up to me to spread the word that the Theory is true, that the GTNAE is now sustantialized.
But there are those who do not want to hear the truth. And so, sadly, I, a young lady, have been harassed and followed by the most horrible assortment of round-headed men. One of them stole a red-note-book of mine.
I say," she said, "it looked just like the one that you carry right now."
Greyson glanced at the book. "I am afraid, Miss Laidly, that you are mistaken. This book is a... family...heirloom," he replied not suspiciously.
Miss Laidly did not flinch or show any negative signs.
"Well then Mr. Greyson, I must be going now. I am glad to meet you."
A little perturbed by the incident, Greyson made his way to the British Museum to consult his friend Phillips, a man with pronounced scientific and analytical tastes. Entering through the front door, he made his way to the reading room, where his friend pretended to be employed while he spent his leisurely time not worrying about his massive personal inherited fortune.
But his friend was not immediately visible. As he was searching, a foot lashed out in front of him, nearly tripping Greyson.
"Oh, pardon me, sir, I am gravely sorry that I nearly tripped you on account of my meandering feet," said the man importantly.
"And my apologizes, sir, for not introducing myself," said Greyson.
"I am Mr. Greyson," said Greyson.
"And I am Dr. Matthews," said the man. He paused briefly, "I suppose that you are wondering how one becomes stricken with the meandering foot syndrome."
"No, not really," said Greyson.
The man told his story:
THE NOVEL OF THE LOST BOOK
"Well, it all began 20 minutes ago, when I was at the Byron Hall Lectures on GTNAE Progress. I was taking notes on the speaker (he was discussing the Americish Dialects as per the Neuman hypotheses). I took so many notes that my hands began to tire. I must explain that I have trained as a gymnast all of my life, and my area of expertise was in toe-dexterity. And thus I am expertly trained in writing with my foot. Thus, I determined to release my hand from its tedious task of note taking and to give this duty instead to my well-trained feet. I must have written for several hours when suddenly my foot began to meander.
I was, frankly, shocked, as this had never occurred before, and I am quite sensitive when it comes to foot dexterity. i.e. it is my pride and joy. And so I violently slammed my foot into the top of the table in order to quiet it down. However, this only served to increase and intensify the meandering. Slowly but surely, I lost my grip on the notebook, and it fell to the floor. I struggled for another minute to gain control of my meandering foot, but to no avail. Finally, I stuck it in acid. A vat of acid was under the table in the conference room. The pain was so great that the foot stopped, and I suddenly realized that my notebook had disappeared. And then the foot began meandering again despite my frantic pleas to the contrary and the potent bath of misplaced acid. By the time I managed to get the thing in check, the book was long gone. And so now I have lost my red-target-shaped-skull-and-cross-bones-shaped note book."
The man paused briefly, staring intensely at Mr. Greyson's notebook.
"You have not happened to come upon such a book, have you?" he said with a hint of snideness.
"No." said Greyson, staring at the book as well.
"Very well," said the man, "I hope you have a safe and non-life-threatening day."
And with that, Greyson shuffled away quickly, starting to see a pattern. He finally found Phillips in the cuneiform section of the library.
"Phillips," said Greyson, "I am glad to see you here at work."
"And you are here. I see you," said Phillips, now convinced of the merits of pragmatism.
"Yes...Phillips. I am afraid that I need your help."
"Help." said Phillips, mystically enough.
"Yes. I need you to explain the GTNAE and its possible pitfalls to me."
"Well...it goes like this," said Phillips:
THE STORY OF THE RED SYSTEM
In 1776, archaeologists and Sumerologists made a ground-braking discovery. Under 6-feet of rubble in the ancient Sumerian city of Unug was a 3-by-7 foot stone tablet inscribed with a plethora of obscure cuneiform codes and symbols. That same year, a man by the name of Lord Ashton discovered that the tablets described, through a complex sequence of coding and ancient jargon known as the "Red System," a place known as "America." It was on that date that Lord Ashton established the secret society "Maximilian Society." It is dedicated to discovering the true nature, history, and location of America by means of scientific decoding and deciphering of the amazingly complex Red System. However, knowledge of the tablet has reached the greater range of academia, and the GTNAE is the summation of the work over the last 200 years. The tablet itself it sitting right next to me in this case. We have, as you know, a system of GTNAE notation and science, known as diakinetics. It is within this system that modern America scholars work. However, the Maximilian Society remains the leader in the field, and some rumor that they had already finished the GTNAE. The major issue in its completion is that the Civil War Theory remains inconsistent with the Red System, and Maximilian Society has spent decades seeking a solution."
Phillips paused. "I must be going shortly, although, rest assured, I shall return soon.
Phillips left the library in a suspicious manner.
Just then, as Phillips passed through the door, Greyson looked into the case and at the tablet. Next to it was another, smaller clay tablet that way marked as "unreadable." Greyson walked around the case and noticed that it was a perfectly fine tablet, just upsidedown. Laughing, he easily deciphered the table, as he knew Sumerian, which is a very useful skill, as shown here. It read:
"Enlil/ Lugal-kur-kur-ra/ Lugal-a-ni/ Ur-d-Nammu / Lugal Urim-ki-ma/ Lugal-an-ub-da-limmu-ba-ka/ e-a-ni/ mu-na-an-du/ lu mu-sar-ra-ni-a/ shu-bi-ib-ur-e-a/ Bil-ga-mesh-e/ nam-ha-ba-da-kur-e"
The thing clearly said, "Look inside this tablet. It is here. Then, go to 1823 Hamshire Road, London.
The anachronism was startling, but Greyson ignored it, preferring to simplify the whole matter in his mind. He smashed through the glass case and broke open the tablet, revealing an ancient scroll. In fear and delight, Greyson read the scroll while the museum police ran away, frightened by the seemingly irreverent violence towards glass, and the pedestrians ran in circles, screaming.
Finally, Greyson got out of the tangle and headed for 1823 Hamshire Road, not even waiting for Phillips to return.
AN INCIDENT IN TRUTH
Greyson arrived at the old rotting mansion, formerly the property of the Crown. He looked about at the Hazel-trees and the lawn-rabbits leaping joyful and menacing at once with their placidly voracious snouts. He walked up to the door and, suspecting that the inhabitants had long ago fled from the lameness of the house, walked right in. Sitting in the dilapidated and rusty couch in the draft-ridden living room was none other than Phillips himself.
"My dear Mr. Phillips," said Greyson, "what a surprise. Do you come here...often?"
"Yes. I do."
Greyson ignored this cryptic comment.
"Ok. That's cool. Anyways, I have found something utterly stupendous! AMERICA DOES NOT EXIST!"
""But Mr. Greyson, why would you say such a thing?"
"My dear Phillips, it is simplicity itself and itself simplicity. There is a heap of evidence to the contrary and no evidence to support its existence. How could a rational man of the high gentry support the assertion?"
"Mr. Greyson, you cannot be serious, the American theory has held for nearly a century, many do no even consider it to be a theory, but count it as fact. I might understand how the Civil War Theory (CWT) should come into slight question, considering the inconsistencies with the Sea-March Algorithms (CMAs), but surely many will consider it an affront to their faith it you question such a basic tenet of Grand Theory of North-American Everything (GTNAE)."
"Phillips, it is all very well that you question the validity of mere trifling speculation, but I am positively certain that your complains shall not stand up to substantive facts."
And with this, Mr. Greyson pulled out of his pocket an old piece of parchment, such as the kind used in the late 18th century. It bore the proud insignia of the Crown and was written in elegant but clearly insane handwriting. He carefully and lovingly untied the intestine-ribbon and unrolled the scroll.
"Greyson, my god, is that a letter from George III?"
"Why yes, Phillips, it is. I found it in the Museum."
A smile drew across Phillips' face. "You know, old friend, I have read this before."
Greyson was startled, "You have read this before?" How could that be?"
"My Dear Greyson, did you not think it odd that this ancient Cuneiform tablet referred to a contemporary address in London and a scroll made by George the III?"
"Well, yes. But I forgot about it when it confused me."
"Did you even think that it was just a ploy."
"No. Why? Why would it be a ploy? And a ploy for what?"
Phillips turned around in his chair and flicked a lever on the headrest. Suddenly, several doors opened up throughout the room, and out came many men and women. Greyson recognized two of them as the man with the meandering foot and Miss Laidly.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked frightened.
"It is, my friend, nothing other than the MAXIMILIAN SOCIETY. I, Mr. Greyson, am Ruford Schwalwac. And may I say adieu to my old friend Phillips, who, entirely an invention, must now be stored away in my mind. You should have noticed that your so-called "parchment" is nothing more than a modern fake. You should also know that those stories from Miss Laidly are being spread across England. Soon everyone will believe in the existence of America."
"Now, Mr. Greyson, please give us the Red Book."
"You! You Three are Imposters! You are all Imposters!" cried Greyson, "well, I do not suppose that you are yet aware of the round-head's final notes!"
A slight wave of confusion passed over Ruford Schwalwac's face for a fraction of an instant.
"Round-heads," said Ruford, "are descendents of a proto-non-human race of hyper-intelligent reptiles from Azalia. They are hardly to be trusted."
"Well then," said Greyson, "trust the math."
"alpha prime diagonast of beta-substrate psi interferonase microphiniol "f"-r-phi -conjugation- with double-set Gamma-set-Gamma psi-phi anti-substrate minus idem-psi-rho anti-calculon SUMATION FACTOR 2 implies Aliophininedeltabiolasesigmatic Doubleantifactor!"
With these words, the entire Council fell silent and there were perhaps even a few shrieks from the corners.
"No," cried Ruford, "it can't be. There is a mistake!"
"No," pronounced Mr. Greyson sternly, "Doubleantifactor is a CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE, the Red System is a hoax, the GTNAE is fundamentally flawed...there is no AMERICA."
TIMEZONE!!!!
The Three Impostors
PROLOGUE
LONDON- 1902
"But Mr. Greyson, why would you say such a thing?"
"My dear Phillips, it is simplicity itself and itself simplicity. There is a heap of evidence to the contrary and no evidence to support its existence. How could a rational man of the high gentry support the assertion?"
The two men were sitting, English, in the rotting shell of an old manor of the British royalty, the wall of which were beginning to sag under the weight of countless seasons. The hazel trees were swaying from side to side and the various lawn-rabbits scuffled about quite unimpeded by the anti-vermin netting devices installed by the late Queen Elizabeth.
"Mr. Greyson, you cannot be serious, the American theory has held for nearly a century, many do no even consider it to be a theory, but count it as fact. I might understand how the Civil War Theory (CWT) should come into slight question, considering the inconsistencies with the Sea-March Algorithms (CMAs), but surely many will consider it an affront to their faith it you question such a basic tenet of Grand Theory of North-American Everything (GTNAE)."
"Phillips, it is all very well that you question the validity of mere trifling speculation, but I am positively certain that your complains shall not stand up to substantive facts."
And with this, Mr. Greyson pulled out of his pocked an old piece of parchment, such as the kind used in the late 18th century. It bore the proud insignia of the Crown and was written in elegant but clearly insane handwriting. He carefully and lovingly untied the intestine-ribbon and unrolled the scroll.
"Greyson, my god, is that a letter from George III?"
"Why yes, Phillips, it is. I found it in the Museum."
PART I-- An Incident in Red
Greyson walked down the cobble-stone streets of London to the Buckingham College for the Aristocratically-Inclined, the most prestigious of the Westhamshire colleges and the home of the leading America-Theory institute in London. The sky was a dim shade of brown through which chilly breezes scuttled and fell, stirring up leaves and dust from the London by-ways. Greyson reached the college steps and found his way through the labyrinthine hedges and into the Byron Conference Hall where the most highly regarded GTNAE fellows were meeting for the annual conference on CWT.
Greyson was a man of literary and figurative tastes, always interested reading books by famous people. But he was also fascinated in the occult and the theoretical. And so, during a stay in East Northumbria two years earlier, he became interested in the problems of GTNAE. Traveling from his simple cottage on the Thames by parliament, he had made the acquaintance of several prominent scholars in GTNAE in the intellectuals' tavern, where only the finest of 2000 year old Roman wines were sipped and spit into bowls for the poor. A friend had drawn his attention to this meeting at Byron Conference Hall, and Greyson took up the task with the utmost eagerness.
He was three-minutes late, and the conference had already begun.
A large man wearing dim spectacles stood at the podium, reporting on the latest algorithm studies:
"Clearly, good and decent honorable colleagues, the anti-plasmodomidal key-phiniol formulae PROVE the existence of a distinct "Americish Accent."
The assembled scholars broke into an uproar, neighbor argued with neighbor and friend with friend.
"Silence! Silence!" called the Arbiter of the House.
The crowd only grew louder in the paling light of the setting dusk. The speaker shouted again and again until, having grown impatient and his face having become a profound shade of purple, he went away. Greyson could have sworn that there was an explosion of flesh, but he only saw the event out of the corner of his eye. Wiping some mysterious red fleshy-like material off their brows, the mob of scholars quieted, and the speaker continued.
"As I was bombasting, my good and decent honorable colleagues, I have created a potentially accurate version of the Americish Dialect. I shall now read The Holy Bible in The Dialect:
"
1 Een duh begeennin' Godh cree'ted duh heeven un duh erf.
2 Un duh erf wuz wifowt vorm, un voit; un durknez wuz upuh duh vaec uh duh deep. uh de Spurt uh Gut moof upuh d vaec uh de wutr.
..."
As the speaker finished Isaiah 32:4, Greyson noticed a thin and disheveled young man with an oddly round head next to him writing something in a small notebook hidden on his lap. The letters were indistinct at first, but as Greyson's eye adjusted to the darkness under the conference table, he could make out some writing:
"[α'βψ/fφ! Γψφ Γψρ //] => [Αδς++] !!! DISCALCULON !!!"
Then a door opened on the far side of the room and a well-dressed and powerful man entered the hall. Greyson's mysterious neighbor looked up with a twitching motion of his neck and his eyes widened. He abruptly dropped the notebook on the floor and exited from a door opposite to the one previously opened by the well-dressed man. The latter briskly walked across and then out of the room, apparently in pursuit of the round-headed young man.
Greyson picked up the note book and began to examine the notes. There were dozens of pages of text, but only the last was written in the hand of the young man. Examining the earlier pages, Greyson realized that it told a story of sorts:
"Dear friends and colleagues of the Maximilian Council, I, Ruford Schwalwac, am proud to distribute this copy of the LINCOLN SOLUTION BETA, which, I belief, will finally solve the difficulties in reconciling the Aminist-Zero/Null/Beta Discontinuum with the Particle Anthropy. Yes yes, I am aware, many members will find any solution impossible to believe given the circumstances and the late theoretical crisis, but I assure all members of this most hallowed organization that this component of the theory is absolutely sound and that it will indeed PROVE, yes, PROVE undeniably the American theory. Finally our task will be complete and control of Parliament and of the Throne will be a foregone conclusion. Furthermore, we are certain that the Roundheads will be entirely crushed by the academic success of the theory. Never again will any person find a DISCALCULON in our theoretical structures! But it is now proper that I commence in the explanation of the LINCOLN SOLUTION BETA:
THE TALE OF THE NEW PRESITENT
Lincoln, a tall man who constantly wore a tall hat, sat back in his modified hat-stool. It was election day, and he wanted to win. In America, winning an election of any kind qualified one to be a "Presitent," a word that might translate as "War Chief" in English. (Billington, 1901; R.M. Chester, 1790) On the horizon, a courier rode over the lakes and mountains that compose approx. 92.357% of America. (cf. Gordon et al.) Lincoln knew that this was the moment in which his entire future was to be decided. The courier arrived and stood on the threshold of the crystal-pyramid in which the Americi people lived. Lincoln called out:
"Tell me. What is the news." (cf. Billington, 1834:f "See me. Where is the speech?!?")
The courier made no reply, but drew a long war-sickle and hurled it at Lincoln. Ducking quickly, he manage to avoid the first shot, but the second sickle got him in the arm. Grabbing an Americish Flag on a tree stump, he built a "rail-road" and escaped in a log "cabin."
It turned out that Lincoln had won the election, but the Demokertic Tribes banded together and sent an assassin disguised as a courier to kill their victorious opponent. Having failed, the Demokertic tribes raided the Continent of Aphrika (cf. Harding et al., 1900:a for Aphrika Theory) and stole 3 million black-skinned persons and took them to the "South" of America. (note: Dickens 1895 claims phylogenic proof of a "North-Western Rebellion"). Here, they broke away from America and enslaved the Aphrikan slaves. Lincoln gathered his Vais-Presitents (Sub-War-Chiefs) and declared war on the new nation of "The Confucian States of America." (Note: Williams disputes the Confucian theocratic theory on the grounds of 3'β instability, but the Maximilian Council disproved and "horribly strangled" Williams at the 1900 Byron meetings.)
The Confucian States had an election day of their own in 1861. Using the traditional "Pebbles-in-Distress" method (Garfield and Kent, 1890:c), Jeversen Devis became the first "Enlightened-Harmonious-State-Administrator" of the Confucian States. Lincoln, a man of great emotional presence, rallied up soldiers to fight against the Confucians. But the Confucians, with their witty and profound quips, managed to outmaneuver the Northern armies until 1863, when they lost at the Battle of Tahoe. The mountain snow probably did them in. After this point, the Sea-March occurred, during which a Vais-Presitent named Sirmon dug a canal into the Confucian States and flooded them. (cf. "Sea-March Algorithms" Blacke, 1901"). Having won the war when "Hauncho" ROBert E. Lee surrendered outside of the great crystal pyramid of Richmoend, Lincoln's arch rival--the courier, managed to impale him with an octopoid-ray-gun at a festival for Jesus: Mithras Incarnate.
---
Greyson finished the passage in sheer astonishment. He knew that the CWT was the primary obstacle in the completion of the GTNAE, but he had never guessed that it could already be finished. But why had no one heard of this yet? Why were they still having these meetings if a solution had already been found?
Then he realized it: the round-headed man had taken the note-book from the Maximilian Council before it could be published. Yes, the date in the notebook read March 1902, and it was now well into April. That would explain why the man was being chased...
then Greyson remembered something, the young man had written a passage on the last page:
"[α'βψ/fφ! Γψφ Γψρ //] => [Αδς++] !!! DISCALCULON !!!"
Greyson could read a bit of GTNAE notation:
"alpha prime diagonast of beta-substrate psi interferonase microphiniol "f"-r-phi -conjugation- with double-set Gamma-set-Gamma psi-phi anti-substrate minus idem-psi-rho anti-calculon SUMATION FACTOR 2 implies Aliophininedeltabiolasesigmatic Doubleantifactor!"
Anyone with even cursory knowledge of diakinetic Americi theory knows that an Aliophininedeltabiolasesigmatic Doubleantifactor implied by an alpha set can mean only one thing: a critical DISCALCULON!
That means that the Maximilian Council's great project, their final weapon, was fundamentally flawed. The Maximilian Council was the fabled murderous secret-organization that strove to finally prove the America theory and use it as a weapon against nay-sayers in Parliament and the King himself, all of whom had long ago taken the conservative stance of neutrality on the America theory. Of course, proof of the theory would destroy their reputations and cause a political revolution in England, letting the secret Maximilian Society rule the country!
Greyson left the meeting at once, determined to inspect the notebook further. He held the red book freely at his side, not minding that others might see its distinctive color and shape (a bull's eye with a skull and cross bones). As he was heading down Mapleshireton Street, a young lady dropped her stack of books and cabbages (which are notoriously difficult and dangerous to pick up). Greyson instinctively helped her. She introduced herself.
"Oh dear, I must apologize most profusely, for I am embarrassed. I am Miss Laidly Stratford, a governess for the Dyson family."
"It is absolutely no disappointment to me that I offer my assistance, Miss Stratford. I am Greyson. I live on 235 Appleton Street, the combination to my safe is 23-13-2-9, and here is a key to my house." He handed her the key, as was his custom whenever he met strangers. Of course, he never suspected that Miss Laidly was an IMPOSTOR.
"Why thank you, Mr. Greyson, I will be sure NOT to take advantage of your misguided friendliness. But I must tell you why I have so many books."
"I would be delighted to hear, Miss Stanton."
And so the young lady narrated
THE STORY OF THE LANDING
I was only 15 when my Brother Alfred joined the Navy so that he might send back funds to our impoverished household. He was like a father to me, since my real father worked in the tavern as a table, and, since furniture is not supposed to move nor talk, I rarely saw and never spoke to him. My brother sailed for two years until nearly 1898. It was then that the disaster struck: his ship was lost at sea and he was presumed dead. We held the funeral, but I never gave up hope that he was alive.
And in 1901, my hoping was rewarded with fact. I began to receive letters in my Brother's handwriting and stamped with his seal. There is no doubt! It is him. And it is only the Lord's marvelous will that he is alive. But even more amazing is the content of these letters! Alfred is in America! Yes, it is difficult to believe, but it is true. He says that the Americi are a friendly people and that they use their trained eagles to relay the messages to my home. I have seen them too, outside of my house at the break of dawn.
Alfred told me to bring him books on matters the English Language so that he might educate the Americi in the ways of English culture and society. But it is also up to me to spread the word that the Theory is true, that the GTNAE is now sustantialized.
But there are those who do not want to hear the truth. And so, sadly, I, a young lady, have been harassed and followed by the most horrible assortment of round-headed men. One of them stole a red-note-book of mine.
I say," she said, "it looked just like the one that you carry right now."
Greyson glanced at the book. "I am afraid, Miss Laidly, that you are mistaken. This book is a... family...heirloom," he replied not suspiciously.
Miss Laidly did not flinch or show any negative signs.
"Well then Mr. Greyson, I must be going now. I am glad to meet you."
A little perturbed by the incident, Greyson made his way to the British Museum to consult his friend Phillips, a man with pronounced scientific and analytical tastes. Entering through the front door, he made his way to the reading room, where his friend pretended to be employed while he spent his leisurely time not worrying about his massive personal inherited fortune.
But his friend was not immediately visible. As he was searching, a foot lashed out in front of him, nearly tripping Greyson.
"Oh, pardon me, sir, I am gravely sorry that I nearly tripped you on account of my meandering feet," said the man importantly.
"And my apologizes, sir, for not introducing myself," said Greyson.
"I am Mr. Greyson," said Greyson.
"And I am Dr. Matthews," said the man. He paused briefly, "I suppose that you are wondering how one becomes stricken with the meandering foot syndrome."
"No, not really," said Greyson.
The man told his story:
THE NOVEL OF THE LOST BOOK
"Well, it all began 20 minutes ago, when I was at the Byron Hall Lectures on GTNAE Progress. I was taking notes on the speaker (he was discussing the Americish Dialects as per the Neuman hypotheses). I took so many notes that my hands began to tire. I must explain that I have trained as a gymnast all of my life, and my area of expertise was in toe-dexterity. And thus I am expertly trained in writing with my foot. Thus, I determined to release my hand from its tedious task of note taking and to give this duty instead to my well-trained feet. I must have written for several hours when suddenly my foot began to meander.
I was, frankly, shocked, as this had never occurred before, and I am quite sensitive when it comes to foot dexterity. i.e. it is my pride and joy. And so I violently slammed my foot into the top of the table in order to quiet it down. However, this only served to increase and intensify the meandering. Slowly but surely, I lost my grip on the notebook, and it fell to the floor. I struggled for another minute to gain control of my meandering foot, but to no avail. Finally, I stuck it in acid. A vat of acid was under the table in the conference room. The pain was so great that the foot stopped, and I suddenly realized that my notebook had disappeared. And then the foot began meandering again despite my frantic pleas to the contrary and the potent bath of misplaced acid. By the time I managed to get the thing in check, the book was long gone. And so now I have lost my red-target-shaped-skull-and-cross-bones-shaped note book."
The man paused briefly, staring intensely at Mr. Greyson's notebook.
"You have not happened to come upon such a book, have you?" he said with a hint of snideness.
"No." said Greyson, staring at the book as well.
"Very well," said the man, "I hope you have a safe and non-life-threatening day."
And with that, Greyson shuffled away quickly, starting to see a pattern. He finally found Phillips in the cuneiform section of the library.
"Phillips," said Greyson, "I am glad to see you here at work."
"And you are here. I see you," said Phillips, now convinced of the merits of pragmatism.
"Yes...Phillips. I am afraid that I need your help."
"Help." said Phillips, mystically enough.
"Yes. I need you to explain the GTNAE and its possible pitfalls to me."
"Well...it goes like this," said Phillips:
THE STORY OF THE RED SYSTEM
In 1776, archaeologists and Sumerologists made a ground-braking discovery. Under 6-feet of rubble in the ancient Sumerian city of Unug was a 3-by-7 foot stone tablet inscribed with a plethora of obscure cuneiform codes and symbols. That same year, a man by the name of Lord Ashton discovered that the tablets described, through a complex sequence of coding and ancient jargon known as the "Red System," a place known as "America." It was on that date that Lord Ashton established the secret society "Maximilian Society." It is dedicated to discovering the true nature, history, and location of America by means of scientific decoding and deciphering of the amazingly complex Red System. However, knowledge of the tablet has reached the greater range of academia, and the GTNAE is the summation of the work over the last 200 years. The tablet itself it sitting right next to me in this case. We have, as you know, a system of GTNAE notation and science, known as diakinetics. It is within this system that modern America scholars work. However, the Maximilian Society remains the leader in the field, and some rumor that they had already finished the GTNAE. The major issue in its completion is that the Civil War Theory remains inconsistent with the Red System, and Maximilian Society has spent decades seeking a solution."
Phillips paused. "I must be going shortly, although, rest assured, I shall return soon.
Phillips left the library in a suspicious manner.
Just then, as Phillips passed through the door, Greyson looked into the case and at the tablet. Next to it was another, smaller clay tablet that way marked as "unreadable." Greyson walked around the case and noticed that it was a perfectly fine tablet, just upsidedown. Laughing, he easily deciphered the table, as he knew Sumerian, which is a very useful skill, as shown here. It read:
"Enlil/ Lugal-kur-kur-ra/ Lugal-a-ni/ Ur-d-Nammu / Lugal Urim-ki-ma/ Lugal-an-ub-da-limmu-ba-ka/ e-a-ni/ mu-na-an-du/ lu mu-sar-ra-ni-a/ shu-bi-ib-ur-e-a/ Bil-ga-mesh-e/ nam-ha-ba-da-kur-e"
The thing clearly said, "Look inside this tablet. It is here. Then, go to 1823 Hamshire Road, London.
The anachronism was startling, but Greyson ignored it, preferring to simplify the whole matter in his mind. He smashed through the glass case and broke open the tablet, revealing an ancient scroll. In fear and delight, Greyson read the scroll while the museum police ran away, frightened by the seemingly irreverent violence towards glass, and the pedestrians ran in circles, screaming.
Finally, Greyson got out of the tangle and headed for 1823 Hamshire Road, not even waiting for Phillips to return.
AN INCIDENT IN TRUTH
Greyson arrived at the old rotting mansion, formerly the property of the Crown. He looked about at the Hazel-trees and the lawn-rabbits leaping joyful and menacing at once with their placidly voracious snouts. He walked up to the door and, suspecting that the inhabitants had long ago fled from the lameness of the house, walked right in. Sitting in the dilapidated and rusty couch in the draft-ridden living room was none other than Phillips himself.
"My dear Mr. Phillips," said Greyson, "what a surprise. Do you come here...often?"
"Yes. I do."
Greyson ignored this cryptic comment.
"Ok. That's cool. Anyways, I have found something utterly stupendous! AMERICA DOES NOT EXIST!"
""But Mr. Greyson, why would you say such a thing?"
"My dear Phillips, it is simplicity itself and itself simplicity. There is a heap of evidence to the contrary and no evidence to support its existence. How could a rational man of the high gentry support the assertion?"
"Mr. Greyson, you cannot be serious, the American theory has held for nearly a century, many do no even consider it to be a theory, but count it as fact. I might understand how the Civil War Theory (CWT) should come into slight question, considering the inconsistencies with the Sea-March Algorithms (CMAs), but surely many will consider it an affront to their faith it you question such a basic tenet of Grand Theory of North-American Everything (GTNAE)."
"Phillips, it is all very well that you question the validity of mere trifling speculation, but I am positively certain that your complains shall not stand up to substantive facts."
And with this, Mr. Greyson pulled out of his pocket an old piece of parchment, such as the kind used in the late 18th century. It bore the proud insignia of the Crown and was written in elegant but clearly insane handwriting. He carefully and lovingly untied the intestine-ribbon and unrolled the scroll.
"Greyson, my god, is that a letter from George III?"
"Why yes, Phillips, it is. I found it in the Museum."
A smile drew across Phillips' face. "You know, old friend, I have read this before."
Greyson was startled, "You have read this before?" How could that be?"
"My Dear Greyson, did you not think it odd that this ancient Cuneiform tablet referred to a contemporary address in London and a scroll made by George the III?"
"Well, yes. But I forgot about it when it confused me."
"Did you even think that it was just a ploy."
"No. Why? Why would it be a ploy? And a ploy for what?"
Phillips turned around in his chair and flicked a lever on the headrest. Suddenly, several doors opened up throughout the room, and out came many men and women. Greyson recognized two of them as the man with the meandering foot and Miss Laidly.
"What is the meaning of this?" he asked frightened.
"It is, my friend, nothing other than the MAXIMILIAN SOCIETY. I, Mr. Greyson, am Ruford Schwalwac. And may I say adieu to my old friend Phillips, who, entirely an invention, must now be stored away in my mind. You should have noticed that your so-called "parchment" is nothing more than a modern fake. You should also know that those stories from Miss Laidly are being spread across England. Soon everyone will believe in the existence of America."
"Now, Mr. Greyson, please give us the Red Book."
"You! You Three are Imposters! You are all Imposters!" cried Greyson, "well, I do not suppose that you are yet aware of the round-head's final notes!"
A slight wave of confusion passed over Ruford Schwalwac's face for a fraction of an instant.
"Round-heads," said Ruford, "are descendents of a proto-non-human race of hyper-intelligent reptiles from Azalia. They are hardly to be trusted."
"Well then," said Greyson, "trust the math."
"alpha prime diagonast of beta-substrate psi interferonase microphiniol "f"-r-phi -conjugation- with double-set Gamma-set-Gamma psi-phi anti-substrate minus idem-psi-rho anti-calculon SUMATION FACTOR 2 implies Aliophininedeltabiolasesigmatic Doubleantifactor!"
With these words, the entire Council fell silent and there were perhaps even a few shrieks from the corners.
"No," cried Ruford, "it can't be. There is a mistake!"
"No," pronounced Mr. Greyson sternly, "Doubleantifactor is a CRITICAL SYSTEM FAILURE, the Red System is a hoax, the GTNAE is fundamentally flawed...there is no AMERICA."
TIMEZONE!!!!
(OP: Ben, February 23 2008)
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