The parking lot at the Museum was only partially full, so Jordan actually found a decent parking spot. He left the car, his sport jacket open and a large briefcase in hand containing the books that Trench left with him. If only to himself, Jordan admitted to a bit of nervousness with the advent of reading the books. The resistance to Jordan's dating spell suggested other possible protections.

But that, of course, was why he was here. He had no interest in opening a Pandora's box where the living world could be infected or many people could be hurt. In a controlled setting, risk was reduced.

Jordan went up to the information counter.
"Hi, I have an appointment with Mr. Dee. Jordan Shepard. Is he still in?"

"Let me see," replies Gina, looking at The Appointment Book.

"You're right on time," she smiled. "Let me ring him." Picking up the phone, she relays Jordan's arrival.

"One sec, he'll be here," she says, hanging up.

In short order, a young bald man approaches. He looks like a Banana Republic ad minus the hundred watt smile. Instead, he wears a serious expression. "I'm John... are you Jordan?"

Jordan nodded. And he stood a bit straighter; the books created a bit of a slump.

"Yes, sir, that's me." he responded. "Thanks for seeing me so quickly."

"No problem," John replied. He motioned for Jordan to follow him as he headed towards the back, avoiding visitors.

"Tell me exactly what you're needing."

Jordan stretched his legs to keep up, and looked around to see that there were no eavesdroppers.

"A warded or extradimensional space that will protect this world against arcane consequences. I have two books from Trench that resisted a simple dating spell. I'm willing to take the risk to read them, but I'm worried about a Pandora effect if there are other protections that I haven't detected. It might be paranoia on my part, but better to be safe..."

John nodded agreement at the caution. It was nice to see someone using their head. "I've got a Pocket Realm I use for that sort of thing," he said, opening the door to his 'office'. A LaZBoy and couch were set up, with several desks and computers. In one corner, a rack of stereo and video gear loomed black and ugly, with wires splayed about. A large plasma screen hung on the wall, and pizza boxes and other miscellaneous food wrappers were scattered about. One corner, however, was completely bare of any trash or clutter.

"How much time do you think you'll need?" John asked.

Jordan shook his head apologetically, and hefted the briefcase again.

"I'm honestly not sure, sir. The books were designed as personal journals, and they were created in the late 1800s. Personal journals would be an easy read, and I have a good memory. But if there are magical formulae, internal ciphers or other technical material, it might take longer as I parse through it. I'm not even certain that I should try to finish them in a single sitting."

"How about an hour? That'll give you an idea of what you're looking at. Whether you need more research, how much time you may need... side effects..." John answered, raising his eyebrows at the last bit. "I can keep renewing the Space," he added, "Don't get me wrong. It's whatever you want to do."

Looking around, Jordan gets the idea John wouldn't care at all, if he took an hour or days. Either way, he'll most likely occupy his time playing video games or watching movies. It's actually fairly shocking the man isn't an obese blob, from the general 'tone' of his 'office'.

The amazement that Jordan experienced with the office did not show up in his face or body language. Still, the young Mystagogue would have gone berserk trying to operate in this kind of chaos. But he answered politely:

"OK, thanks. Let's see what an hour brings. Lead the way."

"Lead...?" John almost looks human with a trace of amusement. With a practiced gesture, he points at the empty corner. A silvery line appears, rotating, cutting a hole in space.

John looks at his watch.

"If you're not back in an hour, I'll come look for you."

Jordan nodded. "Thank you, sir. Once more into the breach, dear friends..." He stepped into the hole in space. Honesty demands an acknowledgement that he was a bit apprehensive.
John hands Jordan a flashlight.

It's... a space.

Light seems to disappear with no sense of distance discernible. There's a couch. Wherever Jordan walks, he seems to get no further than about ten feet from that couch. It reminds him of 'The Matrix'. The portal shimmers slightly, and having a second 'landmark' for his eyes to fix on keeps the whole thing from being wholly unnerving. It's like a sensory deprivation environment, for the waking.

"Well, I asked for it," Jordan thought. He took a seat on that convenient couch and opened the briefcase. He removed a book, took a deep breath, and opened it to read.

Jordan flips through the book for an hour, trying to decipher it. Although the text is gibberish to him, a few words and sigla tickle at his memory. Other drawings looked almost like family trees, or flow charts. One page opens to a two page map of the city.

As Jordan finishes, he feels a slight touch of lightheaded euphoria, and notice the air has become slightly stale.

It could have been from anything...a protection on the book or a weakening of the spaciomancer's spell. Jordan took an instant to try to dredge those words and sigla from his memory. Then he would exit the close environment of the "room."


Jordan understands that these are something akin to High Speech; perhaps even runes he's not familiar with, or have 'drifted' from the main language. Or even be purposefully altered. Based on the whole book, and others, being hand written in the same odd fashion, the whole discrepancy seems purposeful, rather than an anomaly.

The pages begin to blur slightly, and the lightheadedness increases.


It is definitely time to go. Jordan would try to parse this out later. His vision was blurring and he couldn't concentrate. He grabs things up disorganizedly and tries to stumble towards the portal exit.


Jordan can practically feel each of his cells in his body scream for oxygen, and that's probably the only thing that gets him through the portal...

...where he promptly crashes into the Provost, who was a step away from checking on him. The books fly as Jordan gasps for air, and John silently shakes his head.

"Well," he finally says, "Did you learn anything? Aside from how long an hour is?"

Jordan wheezed as he inhaled and exhaled about two bushels of air.

"Yes, sir. I learned how much I like air."

More air. Then, as he collected the books and repacked them, he said.

"It is High Speech, but I think there is some kind of internal cipher...it was mostly gibberish. But there are some peculiar symbols that are either an older form of Atlantean, or a rune set I'll need to research. They look like they've been deliberately altered. Very strange."

"But I'm grateful for the loan of your space, Provost Dee. I think I can do more work on this without the precaution now. I just didn't want to visit a world of hurt on anyone. You made sure that didn't happen."


"We have a very small section of research on dialects and 'drift' on Atlantean," John offered. "Every now and then someone gets interested in how far a symbol can be altered and still retain it's metaphysical significance. There are also cases of Sleepwalkers and Proxim who are... irresponsible... and share what little they may know with family members, resulting in familial cyphers."


Jordan nodded, still gulping air a bit. "Fantastic. I'm glad it's there. Sounds like I'm in for a world of work. Can I ask your permission to access the research, or do I need to petition Dr. Primoria?"

"You can try the Curator, but I doubt she'll let you see them," John shrugged. "The Mysterium is pretty... precise... about sharing information, even amongst themselves. It's one of those give and take things, you know?"


Jordan sighs. The joys of not having rank. "The worst she can say is 'go away'" the young Mystagogue replied. "I'll write her a follow-up report and leave the ball in her court. She might have a higher ranking expert that can do the job better. But thanks again, Provost."

Jordan more neatly packs the books back in his briefcase, smiles his thanks and heads for the door.
"You might also try talking to the Arrows. One of the old Kruegan's was into that sort of thing," John offered as Jordan left.

"Thanks, I'll do that." Jordan responded. He pulled out his small notebook from an inside jacket pocket and jotted a quick memo.