||This is the nature of the Macroverse. Everything must exist somewhere.||
A hologram appeared over their heads, showing Earth. Then panning away to other stars and planets and galaxies, and then panning away even further to show this universe as a bubble swirling in a storm of other bubbles just like it.
||Ideas and Stories are living things. Events occur on one world and sentient beings make their mark on their universe, creating a Story.||
There was Xander! And the rest of the Scooby gang, fighting vamps. Kicking ass and taking names. Glowing with a strange light, all different lights, words, and images, unseen to the naked eye. That mass of...stuff swirled through the air, and up away from the Earth, up away from their universe, upward and onward to another universe, another Earth, a somewhat funny-looking man typing away on a computer, putting his name on his script: Joss Whedon.
||Ideas are the only things that can traverse the universe--an the Macroverse, to other worlds, without assistance. Where others can receive them. And create literature and other forms of entertainment from them.||
The man was on the set of a TV show, filming a blonde kickass young woman staking a man dressed as a vampire.
It flashed to a teenage girl watching that very same show on television--Xander would likely note the special effect did not do the real events justice.
||Some people, however, simply create.||
A girl drawing a picture, with strange creatures and twisty trees, a beautiful alien landscape, entirely from her own mind. It was a girl the doctor might remember, still creating, still drawing, even if she was now separated from the alien playmate that gave her drawings life.
But they still lived anyway.
The same light swirled from it and drifted on to another, empty, primordial place.
||And their Ideas are strong enough to bring life to dark places, and structure to the primordial nothing that exists before a universe does.||
The picture shaped a world through it's creation, into its prime, a beautiful place, one that continued growing and evolving.
||You are all real. And elsewhere, in another universe, by coincidence or transferral of an Idea across the tides of creation, you are all fictional. It is unknown and irrelevant if your worlds existed first and became an Idea, or became an Idea and then existed. You all Live, regardless.||
A pause. ||Some like Mr. Wednesday, however, are more fictional than others.||
no subject
A hologram appeared over their heads, showing Earth. Then panning away to other stars and planets and galaxies, and then panning away even further to show this universe as a bubble swirling in a storm of other bubbles just like it.
||Ideas and Stories are living things. Events occur on one world and sentient beings make their mark on their universe, creating a Story.||
There was Xander! And the rest of the Scooby gang, fighting vamps. Kicking ass and taking names. Glowing with a strange light, all different lights, words, and images, unseen to the naked eye. That mass of...stuff swirled through the air, and up away from the Earth, up away from their universe, upward and onward to another universe, another Earth, a somewhat funny-looking man typing away on a computer, putting his name on his script: Joss Whedon.
||Ideas are the only things that can traverse the universe--an the Macroverse, to other worlds, without assistance. Where others can receive them. And create literature and other forms of entertainment from them.||
The man was on the set of a TV show, filming a blonde kickass young woman staking a man dressed as a vampire.
It flashed to a teenage girl watching that very same show on television--Xander would likely note the special effect did not do the real events justice.
||Some people, however, simply create.||
A girl drawing a picture, with strange creatures and twisty trees, a beautiful alien landscape, entirely from her own mind. It was a girl the doctor might remember, still creating, still drawing, even if she was now separated from the alien playmate that gave her drawings life.
But they still lived anyway.
The same light swirled from it and drifted on to another, empty, primordial place.
||And their Ideas are strong enough to bring life to dark places, and structure to the primordial nothing that exists before a universe does.||
The picture shaped a world through it's creation, into its prime, a beautiful place, one that continued growing and evolving.
||You are all real. And elsewhere, in another universe, by coincidence or transferral of an Idea across the tides of creation, you are all fictional. It is unknown and irrelevant if your worlds existed first and became an Idea, or became an Idea and then existed. You all Live, regardless.||
A pause. ||Some like Mr. Wednesday, however, are more fictional than others.||