milliways_bar | Retirement post

The door opens on a chilly grey day in an alleyway in New York and closes behind a Ray wearing his winter dark bluegrey Ghostbusters duds. "Wow," he says, looking around the Bar. "What'd I miss?"

He doesn't stop for an answer, though. He heads for the Bar to drop off a note ("give a copy of this to anybody who asks about me, please?"), and then to the bulletin board to pin up the same thing for people who go there first.

Hi, everybody. This is Ray.

I realize I haven't been to Milliways very often in the past year or so. Believe it or not, I've been too busy. Some of you will remember that my particular universal continuum has linkages, very unfortunate ones, to the realm of the Cthulhu Mythos. Well, here's the thing: for the past several years those linkages have been getting stronger. The stars, as the Old Gent says, have been becoming right- and this past year they've been slotting into place one after another, so to speak.

This has not been a good October. And, bluntly put, there is not going to be a good October again within most humans' lifetimes in my world.

Egon and Ecto and I have been running a lot of mathematical models and simulations and every single one of them reports the same thing. We're about to enter into a phase of seriously horrific Mythos activity beyond the sort even Gozer would be able to stand up to. I've been working on my old applied dimensional science from the times when I worked with Eddie Dean and the Beam generators for this past year and I believe we can just about maintain conditions suitable to human life and sanity during the Mythos assaults on my world, but, as usual with these things, there's going to be a price. We have to slam the door on anything that might give the Great Old Ones and their minions access- and on anything they might be able to use to access other continua should they manage to manifest in my own.

Bluntly put, we have to close the door on all access to and from my world, to and from other universes, until such time as the stars are wrong again. Estimated duration: three hundred Terran standard years.

I may still be around at the end of it. If that happens to be the case I'll make a point of being the first person back to Milliways once we drop the barriers again. If not... well, it's been great knowing you all, and I hope you have a better time than we do.

-Raymond Stantz, Ghostbuster

(P.S. If another version of me shows up here from one of the other continua after I'm gone, please be kind to him. He probably won't wind up in my situation, but ... just be nice to him anyway? Please? For me? Thanks.)

Once the note is up he heads for the Bar, because this is going to be his last time here, and he'd like to make some use of that fact while he's saying goodbye to people.

[OOC: As I mentioned in the Back Room a few week ago, I'm retiring Ray. This is his goodbye post; it's open as long as people are finding it, basically.]

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"Well, there go pages three through five..." Ray shakes his head. "Kidding. Most of it's really just alcohol."

"And there isn't anything else you need? Supplies, or reference materials or ..."

Slightly smaller-voiced: "Anything?"

"If you've got reference gear you could spare I wouldn't say no," Ray admits. "I mean, we have copies of all the major works of brain-melting horror, but you never know when a lesser volume of mere disturbing lore might turn out to hold something vital."

He nods firmly, shoulders straightening. "Right. Electronic copies, or are you thinking you'd better stick with low-tech?"

"Either or. Electronic media will have the advantage of Ecto immediately memorizing them, but paper works will be a little easier for the humans to work with to start off."

"I've got a lot of titles on my tablet," he says, digging in a pocket, "let me just ..."

Bar is good at transferring data to whatever media people request. It's not cheap, but it has the advantage of being fast.

"Sure thing," Ray says. "And if there's anything I can do for you before I go, let me know."

The hard copies, printed densely on thin but tough paper, are starting to stack up on the bartop.

"I can't think of anything," he says a little dolefully, "except tell Ecto I send regards? And ... and good luck to all of you guys."

"Thank you," Ray says. "We're going to need it."

"... this is really not what I expected to be doing with my life when Venkman and Spengs and I got Columbia to hire us as professors, you know. Just in case there was ever any kind of doubt."

"You didn't choose the 'buster life, the 'buster life chose you?" Andrew offers.

"About the size of it," Ray says. "Who knows? Maybe if all of this passes and I'm still around at the end I'll finally get to retire."

"You'll have earned it," he says. "Frell, you've earned it already."

"Don't I wish," Ray says. "Don't I wish. Unfortunately, this is one of those only-way-out-is-through things."

He heaves a sigh, and picks up the finished hard-copy printout from the bartop.

"How soon do you have to go back?"

"Preferably as soon as I've said my goodbyes," Ray says. "Otherwise it's going to be a problem."

"Right. -- Bar, can I get a folder or something to put these in?"

A wide three-ring binder appears (... were the papers three-hole-punched before? because they certainly are now), and resting on it is a tiny flash drive.

"Yeah," he says, a touch hoarsely, "that'll work."

Ray looks at Andrew for a bit.

He doesn't say anything, but he does hold out his arms for a hug.

He doesn't have to ask twice.

Muffled: "I'm gonna miss you, man."

"You too, Andrew. You and all the others."

The hug lasts a good eight or ten seconds before Andrew lets go and draws back.

"Dr. Stantz," he says, "it's been an honor and a privilege."

Ray exhales, and musters a proper smile.

"The same here, Andrew," he says. "You take care of yourself out there."

"You too," he says. "And ..."

"If this is any variant on the Question, Andrew, please remember that I'm about to be dealing with things that are several weight classes above and beyond your average gods. So even if I say yes this time it's probably not going to help much."

"..."

He deflates a little. "Yeah. Sorry."

Ray grins. "I appreciate the thought, though. Who knows? Maybe I'll get the chance to try it out."

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stilljustandrew - 2013-10-30 03:34 (UTC) - Expand