retrospec | text ❖ living in an era with gps takes all the fun out of it

Carmen Sandiego shared a photo.
7/15 near *̸̗͈͔̺̙̥͐̏͐͊̅̀̇͊͌͞/̴̛̼̦͍̟̑̀̆͋͜*̵̠̣͍̓̏̋̌̑̌̐͜͜͝ͅ|̸̻̪̰͔̇͗̊̃͋͊͢͝͠*̸̢̧͓̦̫̞͖͌̈́́̎̇͞͡͝|̘̤̩͙͇̯̱͊̔͐̚̚*̡̧̜̹̗̆̿̂̄̃̀͠͠͠ͅ\̴̨͉̱̼̜̭̀͑̇̇͆̔͜͠*̢͓̯͕̩̙̬̏̽͂̃̅̃̂͡

The structure above was built in the 7th century BCE by two legendary architects, Trophonios and Agamedes. Is it:

A. The Palace of Knossos on Crete
B. The Temple of Apollo at Delphi
C. The Pillars of Hercules
D. The Colosseum of Rome

Trivia aside, color me curious: what's the most unusual place or thing you've seen thus far in your "hallucinomemories"? That you're willing to tell someone about, of course — I'm not seeking to pressure anyone into revealing secrets they wouldn't be willing to share with the class.

(Or, I suppose, if you're playing along with those bingo cards we were given and need to share something with a stranger, responding to something like this would certainly qualify, wouldn't it?)

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You could say that, yes. I suppose it's John Lennon who should be held accountable for that — I've always been a bit taken by the phrasing of "above us, only sky".

Why?

The sun's effect is more intense the higher you go, correct?

[This has a point.]

Because there's less atmosphere to block the light, of course.

I keep remembering . . . I was irritated, because it was too bright. It felt as though the sun was too close. And yet I don't remember any mountains around us, no snow-- we were at the beach, for heaven's sake.

The beach by definition would suggest sea level. But you're saying you think you were at a higher altitude somehow?

I'm aware it doesn't make sense geographically. But . . . somehow, yes. The air around us felt thinner, the sun was too close (or at least, that's what I kept irritably thinking) . . . perhaps it was an artificial beach? But I remember thinking of it as a bay, which would suggest something more natural.

...Try to recall the architecture, if you can. Could you draw what the buildings looked like? If you were on a boardwalk, there must've been structures of some kind...?

[There's a five minute pause, and then Rosalind sends this along. There aren't any people (or anachronistic swimwear) in her sketch, but the beach and the boardwalk area are neatly illustrated.]

...What's that structure on the left? A little below and to the left of the Ferris wheel. Where it looks as though there are six tubes of some variety jutting out?

...Hold on, there's another one above the arcade, as well. It's the same shape...a ship?

I think so. This was done from memory, but . . . that seems right. Some kind of anthropomorphic battleship, perhaps? Certainly anthropomorphic, but the tubes would suggest some kind of cannon.

So you're looking for a coastal city of some variety that gets a lot of sun and has some variety of attachment to a battleship, such that it would go out of its way to commemorate it in that fashion.

...I wouldn't say that precisely NARROWS the possibilities, but with the addition of the lighthouse and the name Columbia...

If they're all taking place in the same location. The lighthouse was a fairly barren place; this looks a populated beach.

I wonder if it even exists in this world. There's a possibility it simply doesn't.

Truth be told, it might be easier if it doesn't.

With the alternative being...what? A parallel universe?

Well, yes. That's what I imagine all these other lives are, frankly. Parallel universes makes the most sense.

I more meant it would be easier for emotional reasons.

A clearer division between the then and the now, I gather.

Precisely. No chance of my going to that location and mooning over it. And, further: little chance of my running into any of the people I've remembered, because the chances of them existing are minor.

Edited 2017-07-18 22:33 (UTC)

Is that a technical term for the phenomenon, my dear Dr. Lutece? "Mooning"?

It's the term when you're being soppy about it.

[A beat, and then:]

I simply don't want an opportunity to get emotional over a place that doesn't exist, over people that don't exist, in the false hope that I somehow fit in better there.

[Which . . . says more about how she feels in this universe than she'd meant to, than she usually ever tells anyone, and Rosalind scowls.]

...

That puts me in mind of a particular quotation I've always been fond of, if you don't mind entertaining a brief foray into philosophy on my part.

Go on.

In the words of a wise and ancient philosopher:

Why fit in when you were born to stand out?

Hah. I can hardly deny that.

Which philosopher is this, precisely?

[Is it you, Carmen . . . no, it's not, but like hell a Dr. Seuss book has ever gotten near Lutece Manor.]