“So, are we agreed?”
“I suppose it’s the only thing we haven’t tried.”
“Still, the consequences could be dire. Are you really sure about this?”
Ridcully harrumphed. “When have you ever known me to be uncertain?”
The Dean persisted. “Besides the logistics of the matter, I still say we needn’t go to such extreme lengths.”
“Nothing else we’ve tried has even gotten a twitch out of either of them. I’m calling Modo to fetch some of my homemade Wow-Wow Sauce. If that doesn’t get a rise out of the lad, then nothing will.”
“And nothing may ever get a rise out of him again if it works,” murmured the Senior Wrangler.
“Ook!” The Librarian came charging in just as the Archchancellor was preparing for one of his more impressive bellows. The orangutan frantically pointed to the book in his hand. “Ook ook ook!”
“What’s that he’s got?” asked the Lecturer in Recent Runes.
“Looks like one of those funny pictures in the Times,” noted the Dean. “You know, the ones where people look like they’re blowin’ up balloons with words on them.”
This brought a brief pause. “What, you mean like ‘Happy Birthday’ or ‘It’s a Boy!’?” asked the Wrangler.
“It’s just a way of conveying speech in a silent medium,” explained Stibbons. “Like those moving pictures some years back.”
“Bloody hell, not those again?” said Ridcully. “I don’t suppose 50-foot-tall women will start climbing out of newspapers, will they?”
“Only on a slow news day, I should think,” Runes posited.
The Dean nodded. “Nothing like free giant women to help boost circulation.”
“Or stop it rather abruptly,” Ridcully interjected.
The Librarian gave a simian throat clearing, sounding a bit like a garbage disposal faced with toffee.
“Oh, right. Let’s see here…” Ridcully took the book and examined the cover. “‘Ranma-and-a-half?’ Well, the gel’s cute enough, I suppose, but I think she’s prefer to be in whole numbers.”
“Ook.” The Librarian opened the book to a specific page. That the book was still in the Archchancellor’s hands was of little consequence.
“Alright, alright, I was getting there. Hmm. Well, clearly the author…artist…whatever-he-is has no knowledge of the workings of magic.”
“How’s that, Mustrum?” The Dean tried to peek over Ridcully’s shoulder.
“Well, this lad here gets wet and turns into a little piglet that clearly weighs less than he does. Doesn’t say a word about where the extra mass goes.”
“Looks a bit like our chap, doesn’t he?” noted the Wrangler from Ridcully’s other shoulder.
The Archchancellor considered this. “Hmm. Suppose so, if his eyes were about three times as big.”
“Should we give it a try?” asked the Dean.
“It’s nonsense,” huffed Runes. “You can’t just magic away stuff. You’ve got to turn it into other stuff.”
“How concise,” snarked the Wrangler.
As yet another argument of wizards (an acceptable collective noun for them, in fact,) broke out, Ponder Stibbons turned to the Librarian. “I don’t suppose you—?”
The ape merely smiled and held up a glass of water.
“Thank you.” Stibbons was well aware of the Law of Conservation of Mass, but he and the students in the High Energy Magic building had disproved old laws before. With something of an air of ceremony, he upended the glass on Ryoga’s head.
There was a brief snapping sensation, as though the sweater of the universe had gotten caught on something and was only now disentangling itself. It ended with the Luggage looking about curiously and a small black piglet emerging from a pile of clothes. “Bwee?”
“Ook.”
Ryoga turned to the Librarian. “Bwee bwee (snort) bwee?”
“Ook ak ook ook. Eek ak ook.”
The piglet seemed satisfied by this. Most of the University faculty hadn’t noticed, still arguing about something they all agreed on.
Stibbons looked again to the Librarian. “So, how do we change him back?” The Librarian showed him the appropriate page. “Ah. Come with me then, lad.”Ryoga began to follow, but was quickly grabbed by the Librarian, who had read enough Ranma 1/2 to know if the pig was allowed to wander on his own, they’d never find him again.
“We are now arriving in Tokyo. The local time is 5:23 PM. Please wait until the captain has turned off the ‘Fasten Seat Belts’ sign to disembark. Thank you for flying with us today.”
Grandma Hinata rose from her seat and stretched. True, she was infamous for her surprise airdrops on the Hinata Sou, but her age was finally starting to catch up with her. Besides, she’d lost the helicopter for a month. Never should’ve taken that bet with Seta…
The Urashima matriarch shook herself out of her reverie. The first chills of senility seemed to be creeping upon her, which meant the transfer of this artifact was that much more important.
After passing through the rigmarole to which all international travelers are subjected, Hinata exited the airport and looked for a vacant cab. She was surprised to see a sign labeled “Urashima,” especially since the person who held it was in front of a limo. “Did my grandson send you here?” she asked.
The rather attractive woman smiled and nodded. “I am one of his associates. I help catalogue the artifacts he identifies, and he called in a favor. Please, get in.” She opened the door.
Hinata was suspicious. “And how does a colleague of a fledgling archeologist afford a limousine?”
“I receive a very nice commission on the artifacts Tokyo University sells to museums,” said the woman, giving a hint of a sly smile.
“Fair enough.” The elderly woman eased her way into the limo, followed by her escort, who rapped on the glass partition between driver and passengers. The vehicle began moving.
“So,” began the younger woman. “What brought you back to Japan?”
“Family business,” Hinata said curtly. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced, Miss…”
“Ah, yes.” The guide extended her hand. “My name is Helen. Helen Pandora.”
The note from your future self is a somewhat common trope in stories involving time travel. The idea is simple: Write a letter which says to do or not to do something you regret having done or not done, irrespectively, and send it to an appropriate point in timespace so your younger self can receive the note and perform the instructions thereon. In most cases, there are years between sender and recipient, and the note’s subject matter is of dire importance.
For Setsuna Meiou, such notes were rarely sent back more than a week, and usually contained nothing more vital than “pick up milk before Thursday.”
This was how she had already reserved six seats on an evening flight to Washington, DC and reservations for three nice hotel rooms. Of course, she didn’t tell the other Senshi about this or the nicely hidden mail slot in the Gates of Time. She just basked in their wonder of her mystique and general coolness.
“So, when does the flight leave again?” asked Michiru.
“Around nine.”
“You do realize we haven’t packed yet, yes?”
Uh oh. “It is only for two days,” Setsuna said a bit less confidently.
“What it takes to look this refined does not fit in a carry-on!” exclaimed the Senshi of Neptune.
“Don’t I know it…” Haruka grumbled. One of the many perks of cross-dressing was keeping one’s cosmetic paraphernalia to a minimum, and her partner’s overlong preparation was something of a minor aggravation for the Solider of Wind.
“I have some items which may not travel well,” Motoko noted. Swords were typically frowned upon by airport security, after all.
“I’m sure Ami will want to pick some books to bring,” noted Hotaru. There was a pause where a confirmation was expected. “Ami?”
“Grr…I’m the reincarnated princess. I know what I’m talking about when it’s my damn article!” Ami was currently embroiled in an edit war, the first seen on the ancient Wiki in millennia.
Meanwhile…
“It is a testament to the Silver Millenium! Let the past stay preserved, Ami!” Luna had long since figured out how to work modern PCs on the Tsukinos’ computer. Despite Artemis’ claims, she didn’t have “m4d h4xx0r 5k177z,” but she had found a way to connect to the dormant servers on the Moon. She’d largely peeked at the old public encyclopedia for a bit of bittersweet nostalgia, so seeing an update was a huge, not to mention unpleasant, surprise. Luna didn’t care what the change was, only that one of her secret pleasures was being without her consent, her knowledge, or even her opinion. Seeing that the account making the changes was “PrinMerc” only meant the mooncat knew whom to chastise once she finally decided to come home.
Her furious revert-spamming was interrupted by a sudden cry. “Kitties! Shampoo make too too delicious tuna!”
Luna’s eyes narrowed. “You got lucky.” She leapt off the desk and haughtily went to her meal.
Back at the Hinata Sou…
“No! My precious!”
Setsuna sighed and held the Mercury Computer out of Ami’s reach. “We need you focused on the mission, not on your new toy.”
“But it’ll help me with the mission!”
“You’ll get it back when we get to the museum and not a moment sooner. Now go pack.” That said, Setsuna raised the Time Key Staff and whisked Ami back to her bedroom.
“Is she always like this?” Shinobu quietly asked Hotaru.
The cute herald of destruction shook her head. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
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(Posted Mon, 26 Nov 2007 01:59)
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