A MESSAGE FROM PETER WALTER VI:

[sonofadoor]

Greeterings, fellow Internauts!

As you know, there's been a slight bit of turbulence around the Temecula rift. Please keep your arms, legs, and faces in your home dimension at all times and we at Walter Robotics will have everything sorted out as sure as tapioca pudding will be the key to transwarp travel!

In the meantime, please enjoy this muzak rendition of Johann Strauss the Second's An der schönen blauen Donau--because everything is better with muzak! Just press your ear to the page. Go on, try it. If it doesn't work, your money back! Please send your proof of purchase to Walter Robotics care of the Complaints and Incineration Department, and we'll send the money you didn't pay us back as soon as possible.

(And for the love of tribbles, could someone tell me where I am and why it appears to be shaped like the inside of a brainpan? And who is this strange woman that keeps speaking from the ceiling? And the walls. And... everywhere, really.)

Your pal, your friend, your bro,
(but not your bra)
Peter Walter VI

Comments

[yesterdaystomorrow]

[Covers her chest and feels mildly uncomfortable with her boss now.]

[sonofadoor]

[Confused head tilt. What. What. What's wrong, Walter Girl?]

[yesterdaystomorrow]

[Nothing to see over here, Peter. Except the Walter Girl maybe filling out a workplace harassment form.]

[sonofadoor]

[Wh-wh-wh-what? WHY. That was a totally innocent comment missy! Do you want him to be your bra?!]

[yesterdaystomorrow]

[It's Brah, not Bra, okay, Peter. And you shouldn't be talking about bras at all in the workplace or around your female employees. That is a severely inappropriate topic for work!]

[sonofadoor]

[But this isn't work! This isn't anywhere near work! Where is this, anyway.]

Walter Girl B! I'm so glad you're here! Well, not that glad, actually, because it probably means you've experienced the same anomaly I have.

Still! A friendly face is not to be sneezed at. Or coughed? Hiccuped?

...One of those things.

[yesterdaystomorrow]

[I WANT OUT--

...Fine, she'll just finish this form later.] Maybe even all of those things.

Yes, I've been stuck here with the other Walters for quite a few months now.

[sonofadoor]

Waitwaitwait. The other Walters? Do you mean the rest of the household or some kind of transdimensional duplicates that are secretly plotting to take over the world with the use of curling irons and a large chicken?

[bluematters]

That would be your 'Mundane,' Peter. You are in her 'muse space.' Welcome to the horrible yet amazing world of being picked up for whatever purpose and ideas in which they will inflict things upon you.

Such as this.

[He is too used to this shit right now man.]

[sonofadoor]

[GOLLY GEE WILLIKERS MISTER BUT YOU'RE FAMILIAR.]

Peter Walter the First?!?!?!?

[No expression? NO PROBLEM. That sure is an expressive voice the guy has.]

[bluematters]

The one and only, so far.

[sonofadoor]

[Oh no, there go the arms a-waving.]

This doesn't make any sense! I'm hallucinating. Too much blue matter exposure. That'll happen when you take a hit right in the face, you know, not that I'm complaining, it could've been a lot worse and hey, I get to wear this nifty mask!

[bluematters]

[That would be Peter catching one of those waving arms at the wrist. Nope, way too solid to be a hallucination.]

I worked with it for most of my life, and the only hallucinations I ever encountered was from spending a little too much time around The Jon.

[sonofadoor]

Yes, but I'm sure you took safety precautions!

[bluematters]

I blew myself up across a room when I created The Jon.

[sonofadoor]

...Granted, but otherwise I'm sure you took safety precautions!

[bluematters]

Enough so that I didn't blow up the entire manor, but it was still quite dangerous working with blue matter as closely as I did.

[malfunctionbot]

Pappy hey Pappy hey hey hey hey

[bluematters]

Yes, Rabbit?

[malfunctionbot]

[LEANS IN CLOSE AND LICKS RIGHT UP THE SIDE OF YOUR FACE]

[bluematters]

........

[Head pats. That'll do Rabbit, that'll do.]

[malfunctionbot]

[SKIPS AWAY HUMMING HAPPILY]

[greeterings]

... Have we been watching late-night Time Cop marathons again? This seems like one of the Time Cop dreams, but with less sentient marshmallows.

[sonofadoor]

[He's probably staring but it's hard to tell! Maybe he's just looking slightly to left of the other Six's ear.

...No, he's definitely staring. That keyhole is radiating intensity.]

I'm leaning towards Time Cop marathons.

...So if I'm me, and you're me, and we're together, does that mean the answer to the question that is the meaning of life is not, in fact, forty-two?

[greeterings]

[STARING RIGHT BACK OVER HERE, BRAH BRO. This is weird, even for them!]

Well, we'd have to know what the question is first, right? That's the whole point!

... Unless the question was 'what are the odds of meeting yourself in some sort of interdimensional internetty breakroom?', and the answer is "Not 42:1", but that seems a little overly-specific.

[... Yep, still staring. Although Six is veeery cautiously beginning to shuffle forward...]

If it helps, temporal paradox rules don't seem to apply here. I've seen multiple instances of the robots interacting, and none of them exploded!

[sonofadoor]

Really?! That's incredible! Not even a little explosion?

[FASCINATING. Clearly this needs further study!

...Just as soon as he works out whether or not this doppleganger is an evil twin or not. He taps the wood covering his chin thoughtfully.]

Probably not Time Cop marathons, now that I've given it a bit more thought.

[greeterings]

[He could be... you'd never know, unless the obligatory evil moustache was drawn on top of the mask!]

I know, not even so much as a short-circuit! It's amazing!

... You're probably right, though. I'm not sure I could even stomach marathonning the movies again, even if they were just background noise. A little bit of Van Damme goes a very long way.

[sonofadoor]

You could say it goes a Damme long way, but then Rabbit would be upset that someone else made a pun. Obviously, I haven't said anything. Except that. And that. And...that.

[STOP BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.]

Is there a black hole in the Manor we didn't know about? Are we on the other side of a singularity? or perhaps passing through one?

[greeterings]

I'd say that was a Damme good pun, although I wouldn't say it within earshot of certain irritable robuts - hypothetically speaking, of course!


My best guess is that another portal opened up without anyone realizing it and began sucking in people from various time periods, like a sentient whirlpool with an off-key sense of humour. Either that or the fabric of space/time is ripping apart as we know it, but that's a slim possibility! It's hard to tell without any of my equipment. As soon as I can figure out how to recreate a Victorian-era Walter Accidental Interdimensional Portal Discoverer, I'll have a better idea of things.