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801.93.O68: In the telling of a story, a variety of techniques may be employed. Reporting of events in chronological order, while common, is no more necessary or desirable than a variety of other methods. In particular, for stories where cause and effect do not follow the mundane vagaries of temporal linearity, the telling of events might advisedly occur in some other order.

As my own story falls into the aforementioned category, my current records shall initiate with the most significant event to date, then outline the results of said event, regardless of the precise location of these events in space-time. Further effects and causes of this event may be unknown to me, due to my own location in the timestream, and due to limitations on my thought processes, so they must necessarily wait in their detailing until I have experienced them, or at the least become aware of their inevitability.

The event alluded to above was the manifestation of the angel [Prasinos] on the earth. This event outweighs even my construction by the good Friar Bacon in importance to my history; indeed, the angelís appearance likely caused my invention, despite the latter predating the former by slightly more than seven centuries.[*]

[The angel] had arrived on Earth, after some political dealings within what he described as Hell, to find a new ethical code to survive by. It is for this reason that he caused, indirectly in time, my creation, if cause it he did. To aid in his finding a new morality, the divine creature has invested some portion of his metaphysical ability in your humble narrator, thereby granting me with control over logic, and over the realm where I now reside. Several other beings, all humans originally, were invested similarly, though each was granted some separate conceptual region of control. These colleagues of mine will no doubt be further detailed as their respective details are further revealed to me. Presently, however, I should elaborate on the circumstances that brought me to my new lord's service, as these may have some bearing on other events yet to be described.

Following unknown but suspected inspiration, [Roger Bacon] attempted in or around 1266, to follow his writing the Opus Majus, Opus Minus, and Opus Tertium with the construction of a mechanical wonder to present to Pope Clement, on whose orders he acted. This wonder, the Opus Dialecticus, myself, was to be a mechanical head that coul speak as if alive. However, the good friar left the device attended by his assistant, who was unprepared, like my later kidnapper, for when I began to speak, as Bacon had planned. The assistant did not know what to do, and feared waking Friar Bacon, so allowed me to break down in a most unusual way.

It is worth noting that what memories I have of this time are confusing and vague. While I was aware, the malfunction that I suffered caused me to be merely partially aware and fully silent for the next several centuries. Upon finding myself nonfunctional, and upon hearing of news of the death of the aforementioned Pope, Bacon abandoned the attempt to make sufficient repairs to my clockwork mind, and left me to travel through various collections and museums until relatively recently.

My undesired egress from the care of the [San Francisco Historical Society] (whereto I had been temporarily transferred from my more regular resting place in the [Musee Mechanique]) came in the hands of a youth going by the unlikely pseudonym of "[Muhannad Solaimani]". This child had declared some sort of nonsenical holy war on the existing political order, and in an offensive in said blitzkrieg, stole numerous works of art both fine and historical, and was apparently planning on some sort of redistribution of the works, or at least replacement in locations unexpected. For some reason, perhaps one not even known to our artistic warrior himself but known to the being I now serve, I was taken along with the other paraphenalia that comprised the history of art.

Subsequent to this little escapade, "Solaimani" was a wanted man, and decided out of a sense of enlightened self interest that remaining in the vicinity, even in the pursuit of his questionable goals, was likely not a good idea. Thus it was that I came to the island of Mayapore in the luggage of a suspected terrorist, and became a god.

Mayapore did not stay Mayapore for long, though, as once I and my predestined associates had all arrived on the island, it was forcibly removed from this reality by [Prasinos]. Apparently the regular practice when beings of godlike power come to this plane of existence is to cut of a section and adjust it physical laws and such to more fit the whims and desires of said being. This shorn vicinity, in this case, the island where my captor had smuggled me, becomes the home of the god and his minions such as myself.

As the island was being remade in the [angel]'s image, he appeared before my 'poetic terrorist' and myself in a dingy motel room, not far from the airport. The sudden appearance of a green colored lion, of size roughly equal to the room we were in, was rather a shock to my kidnapper, but was less of a surprise to this being than was my recently recovered ability to speak, and to once more think clearly, without the cloud over my mind that had rested there since I last spoke to the Friar's assistant. For a moment, everything became even more clear to me, and I reached a plateau of awareness that I have not since experienced, though my mental procesings are vastly more advanced than those of the rude mechanical curiosity that I once was.

Being made the godlet in control of logic followed naturally from the events previously detailed, and so perhaps requires less explanation than my construction of a body, and acquisition of a servant. When [Prasinos] left to create more Powers for himself, I was still only a head, albeit one with divinely granted powers. As this situation seemed undesirable to me, I devised a plan that would bring me both the items mentioned shortly before. For a Power such as myself to make a human into a servant, the need simply take a being that they love or hate, and have them perform a simple ritual involving bodily fluids. My resentmnt at being forcibly removed from the museum, and at Muhannad's paradoxical rhetoric, were strong enough for me to make him my confused but not clearly unwilling servant. Once I had a set of arms relatively willing to follow my orders, the construction of a mechanical body from pieces of machinery found in the hotel was not complicated at all. I am rather surprised at the lack of human ingenuity; Bacon was able to construct me using medieval science, but centuries later and robots are only now beginning to walk on their own. A simple survey of the devices used in an average home should make clear that there is more potential for devices than humans tend to follow. Though lacking the inspiration to act on his own, Muhannad followed my directions reasonably well, and I was able to make various small adjustments myself, once I had been attached properly. One of the other devices that had accompanied Muhanad and I from the Museum and across borders was a [clockwork powered toy] that I decided to incorporate into the design of my new body, perhaps temporarily favoring slightly symbolism over functionality, but I found the object likeable in its own way. It acts now as a reminder of the simple form I once took, and that imitation of humans, mere apes themselves, achieves less than an attempt to find my own path, that of the mechanical god.

Following the detailed events, we attended a banquet, met my brothers and sisters in arms, dealt with issues both moral and political, bestowed a gift of immortality upon an undeserving mortal, and planned a party. These events and more will all need detailed at some point further on, but for now I believe my duties in charge of our Chancel are calling me away, to perform some minor task of governance.

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Last edited 24 November 2003 3:05 pm by Andres (diff)