Erin Ptah (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ptahrrific) wrote2007-09-09 05:43 pm
ptahrrific) wrote2007-09-09 05:43 pm
Fake News: Five Other Universes Where Arrows Opened
Title: Five Other Universes Where Arrows Opened
Series: The Daily Show
Rating: PG
Words: ~1500
Disclaimer: Two.
For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.
And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Notes: Based on![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
_lady_vanilla_'s story All Sparks (chapter 7, with links to the others). It left me with a lot of vague ideas but no full-fledged story, so I took refuge in the Five Things format.
This is also good ground for a game of spot-the-reference-to-other-fics.
Five Other Universes Where Arrows Opened
One.
"I think it's some kind of cycle," the Stephen on the other side of the Arrow was saying. "Or, not a cycle, but a spiral. A whole line of worlds, just a half-step out of sync with each other, each one leading to the next."
"I'm confused," said the other Jon, who was lying shirtless on top of him and absently toying with his hair.
"It's like this. I saw a version of me who was telling a half-naked Anderson Cooper that he saw a version of me explaining to a half-naked Amy that he saw another version of me describing to a half-naked Steve how he saw another version of me talking to a half-naked, er, someone named Anton, not sure who that is, about another version of me talking to ... well, I forget who was after that, but you get the idea."
"Oh," said the other Jon. "Weird."
"Yep," said the other Stephen. "Very."
The Stephen on this side of the Arrow took the conversation in. Then, as it began to fade, he picked up his cell phone. "Honey, you'll never believe what just happened..."
About thirty minutes later he found himself lying on the couch with his own partner draped over him in a similar state of undress, contentedly listening to him try to explain it: "...a half-naked, um, someone named Steve, don't know him in this universe, but you get the idea."
"Does that mean the next version of you could be watching us right now?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah. I guess it does."
"What angle did you see it from?"
Stephen tried to picture the shot. "About ... there. The camera would have been there."
Jane looked in the direction that he had pointed and waved at the spot on the wall. "Hello, next-Stephen-in-the-chain! I hope you enjoyed the view."
Two.
There was the universe in which an Arrow opened for Stephen (the public started calling them Windows in that universe, but it was the same phenomenon) onto a version of himself that was very, very good at staying in-character. He watched this other self with a notebook on hand for a few days, picking up little tics and mannerisms that he could use in his own act, writing in some of the perfectly ignorant or nasty turns of phrase that other-he was brilliant at coming up with on the fly.
And then he started to notice how the other-people that other-he talked with weren't laughing, and how other-he never once cracked that helplessly broad grin that meant he couldn't pretend to be this character any longer.
A month after the Windows closed, the Report went on indefinite hiatus. Stephen couldn't pretend to be enraged or abusive or even pathetic when he knew in the back of his mind that somewhere, for someone, it was all real.
Three.
The host was flirting with George Clooney when Stephen found him, at the fourth post-awards party he'd tried. It was now or never: by this time tomorrow Stewart would probably have packed his things and headed back to New York.
As he walked up, Clooney spotted a friend on the other side of the room and made his excuses, leaving Stewart to raise his glass in a friendly manner. "Stephen Colbert! Man of the hour! Congratulations! Best Actor and Best Picture. Tremendous work, my friend."
Stephen winced internally at the "my friend"; it sounded so natural falling off of Stewart's lips. It must have showed on his face, because Stewart suddenly looked worried. "You all right?"
"It's nothing. You were a great host, too. Funny, clever, nice -- the audience loved you."
"Well, thank you," said Stewart, blushing just a bit. He must have been hearing this from people all night, and still it flustered him?
"No, I mean it. You were..." Stephen fumbled for words, knowing he must look like an idiot, but Stewart waited patiently and without a hint of boredom or irritation, so Stephen decided to cut to the chase. "Listen, you remember the thing last year with the experiment, and the Arrows?"
"How could I forget? Half my staff must have gotten them. Freaked everyone out, we went on hiatus for a week. Did you get one?"
"Yeah." Stephen swallowed. "You were in it."
"Really?" Stewart raised an eyebrow, smiling bemusedly. "If you tell me I was in your movie, I'm going to laugh at you. I'm not, ah, what's the word, talented."
"No, no, I was on your show. A correspondent."
"You're kidding!" laughed Stewart. "Next you'll be telling me Martin Scorsese was my director."
"I'm not! I had an office, and a regular segment where I yelled at Steve Carell, and another where I talked about religious news, and all kinds of things. I -- the me in this universe, I mean -- actually got a job offer from The Daily Show like ten years ago, but I turned it down, and I broke out right after that. This must've been the universe where I took it."
"Wow." Stewart was still grinning. "So, somewhere out there is a universe where Stephen Colbert is on basic cable working for me. That's hilarious. You wouldn't want to try that out in this reality, would you?"
He was joking, and he paused to let Stephen deliver a comeback.
Stephen didn't answer.
"Hey," said Stewart, low, abruptly serious. "You know what the experts all said. The Arrows pointed to completely different worlds, different lives; you can't get caught up in them and forget about living this life. And you can't idealize them, either. The other version of you has his own problems."
"I know, I know, and I've got a house here and a contract with Paramount and the kids are in school and it would be a bad idea all over. And I like my life. I swear, I do. It's just..." He shifted on his feet, adjusted his glasses, sighed. "We, the other we, I mean, you and I -- we looked like we were such good friends."
Stewart gazed at him levelly.
"I'm sorry," said Stephen at last. "This is awkward. I shouldn't even have brought it up. Forget it."
"Now, hang on," said Stewart. "We're not those other versions of us; we don't have the history that those two have. But that doesn't mean we can't ditch this party, find some hole-in-the-wall bar, order a couple of beers, and have a conversation of our own."
He smiled hopefully. "That is, if you are so inclined."
Stephen smiled back. "I'd like that."
Four.
Stephen-I's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to an angry whisper.
"Jon. Remember, your husband?"
Evelyn-II turned to Stephen-II with a hint of anger, but more prominently, a whole batch of anger and confusion.
"Your husband?" Evelyn-II repeated.
Stephen-II matched his other world self's glare perfectly. "I don't have a husband!"
"You don't?" Evelyn-I asked hastily. "But you're wearing a wedding ring..."
"Yeah." Stephen-II grabbed Evelyn-II's hand. "We're married."
Five.
And then, of course, there was the world in which, thanks to a pair of connecting Arrows, a Stephen-and-Jon who were not in a relationship met a Stephen-and-Jon who were, and that tipped the first Stephen-and-Jon off to the fact that they had been secretly in love for a long time, and after the Arrows had closed they lived happily ever after.
Actually, given that the multiverse is infinite, there were an infinite number of such worlds, separated by all shades of difference, from the very small (as in the universe next door, where Jon grabbed the dark grey shirt out of the closet that morning instead of the light grey shirt) to the downright huge (like the universe so far away that a photon that set off from ours at the beginning of time would not yet have reached it, in which one of them was a used hoverjet salesman from Sirius B and the other owned the spa next door to his dealership, and I will leave it up to you to guess which was which).
Unfortunately, as is the nature of these things, there are also an infinite number of worlds in which it didn't work out. Hearts were broken, tears were shed, backs were stabbed, and painful messes ensued in a trillion trillion different possible ways.
There's no point in dwelling on these. They're no fun, they're downright depressing, and, as with all the worlds changed by Arrows, there's nothing you can do about them. Don't stay with the depressing situations when there are so much more enjoyable ones to focus on.
Like, say, the universe where a portal connected Jon to a CIA agent version of himself, who taught him a few tricks that came in very handy when, six months later, the zombies arrived.
Series: The Daily Show
Rating: PG
Words: ~1500
Disclaimer: Two.
For the Report characters: They and their universe are property of Stephen Colbert, the other Report writers, and of course Viacom. Not mine. Sue me not, please.
And for the real people, the poem:
Please, make no mistake:
these people aren't fake,
but what's said here is no more than fiction.
It only was writ
because we like their wit
and wisecracks, and pull-squints, and diction.
We don't mean to quibble,
but this can't be libel;
it's never implied to be real.
No disrespect's meant;
if you disapprove, then,
the back button's right up there. Deal.
Notes: Based on
_lady_vanilla_'s story All Sparks (chapter 7, with links to the others). It left me with a lot of vague ideas but no full-fledged story, so I took refuge in the Five Things format.This is also good ground for a game of spot-the-reference-to-other-fics.
Five Other Universes Where Arrows Opened
One.
"I think it's some kind of cycle," the Stephen on the other side of the Arrow was saying. "Or, not a cycle, but a spiral. A whole line of worlds, just a half-step out of sync with each other, each one leading to the next."
"I'm confused," said the other Jon, who was lying shirtless on top of him and absently toying with his hair.
"It's like this. I saw a version of me who was telling a half-naked Anderson Cooper that he saw a version of me explaining to a half-naked Amy that he saw another version of me describing to a half-naked Steve how he saw another version of me talking to a half-naked, er, someone named Anton, not sure who that is, about another version of me talking to ... well, I forget who was after that, but you get the idea."
"Oh," said the other Jon. "Weird."
"Yep," said the other Stephen. "Very."
The Stephen on this side of the Arrow took the conversation in. Then, as it began to fade, he picked up his cell phone. "Honey, you'll never believe what just happened..."
About thirty minutes later he found himself lying on the couch with his own partner draped over him in a similar state of undress, contentedly listening to him try to explain it: "...a half-naked, um, someone named Steve, don't know him in this universe, but you get the idea."
"Does that mean the next version of you could be watching us right now?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah. I guess it does."
"What angle did you see it from?"
Stephen tried to picture the shot. "About ... there. The camera would have been there."
Jane looked in the direction that he had pointed and waved at the spot on the wall. "Hello, next-Stephen-in-the-chain! I hope you enjoyed the view."
Two.
There was the universe in which an Arrow opened for Stephen (the public started calling them Windows in that universe, but it was the same phenomenon) onto a version of himself that was very, very good at staying in-character. He watched this other self with a notebook on hand for a few days, picking up little tics and mannerisms that he could use in his own act, writing in some of the perfectly ignorant or nasty turns of phrase that other-he was brilliant at coming up with on the fly.
And then he started to notice how the other-people that other-he talked with weren't laughing, and how other-he never once cracked that helplessly broad grin that meant he couldn't pretend to be this character any longer.
A month after the Windows closed, the Report went on indefinite hiatus. Stephen couldn't pretend to be enraged or abusive or even pathetic when he knew in the back of his mind that somewhere, for someone, it was all real.
Three.
The host was flirting with George Clooney when Stephen found him, at the fourth post-awards party he'd tried. It was now or never: by this time tomorrow Stewart would probably have packed his things and headed back to New York.
As he walked up, Clooney spotted a friend on the other side of the room and made his excuses, leaving Stewart to raise his glass in a friendly manner. "Stephen Colbert! Man of the hour! Congratulations! Best Actor and Best Picture. Tremendous work, my friend."
Stephen winced internally at the "my friend"; it sounded so natural falling off of Stewart's lips. It must have showed on his face, because Stewart suddenly looked worried. "You all right?"
"It's nothing. You were a great host, too. Funny, clever, nice -- the audience loved you."
"Well, thank you," said Stewart, blushing just a bit. He must have been hearing this from people all night, and still it flustered him?
"No, I mean it. You were..." Stephen fumbled for words, knowing he must look like an idiot, but Stewart waited patiently and without a hint of boredom or irritation, so Stephen decided to cut to the chase. "Listen, you remember the thing last year with the experiment, and the Arrows?"
"How could I forget? Half my staff must have gotten them. Freaked everyone out, we went on hiatus for a week. Did you get one?"
"Yeah." Stephen swallowed. "You were in it."
"Really?" Stewart raised an eyebrow, smiling bemusedly. "If you tell me I was in your movie, I'm going to laugh at you. I'm not, ah, what's the word, talented."
"No, no, I was on your show. A correspondent."
"You're kidding!" laughed Stewart. "Next you'll be telling me Martin Scorsese was my director."
"I'm not! I had an office, and a regular segment where I yelled at Steve Carell, and another where I talked about religious news, and all kinds of things. I -- the me in this universe, I mean -- actually got a job offer from The Daily Show like ten years ago, but I turned it down, and I broke out right after that. This must've been the universe where I took it."
"Wow." Stewart was still grinning. "So, somewhere out there is a universe where Stephen Colbert is on basic cable working for me. That's hilarious. You wouldn't want to try that out in this reality, would you?"
He was joking, and he paused to let Stephen deliver a comeback.
Stephen didn't answer.
"Hey," said Stewart, low, abruptly serious. "You know what the experts all said. The Arrows pointed to completely different worlds, different lives; you can't get caught up in them and forget about living this life. And you can't idealize them, either. The other version of you has his own problems."
"I know, I know, and I've got a house here and a contract with Paramount and the kids are in school and it would be a bad idea all over. And I like my life. I swear, I do. It's just..." He shifted on his feet, adjusted his glasses, sighed. "We, the other we, I mean, you and I -- we looked like we were such good friends."
Stewart gazed at him levelly.
"I'm sorry," said Stephen at last. "This is awkward. I shouldn't even have brought it up. Forget it."
"Now, hang on," said Stewart. "We're not those other versions of us; we don't have the history that those two have. But that doesn't mean we can't ditch this party, find some hole-in-the-wall bar, order a couple of beers, and have a conversation of our own."
He smiled hopefully. "That is, if you are so inclined."
Stephen smiled back. "I'd like that."
Four.
Stephen-I's eyes narrowed and his voice dropped to an angry whisper.
"Jon. Remember, your husband?"
Evelyn-II turned to Stephen-II with a hint of anger, but more prominently, a whole batch of anger and confusion.
"Your husband?" Evelyn-II repeated.
Stephen-II matched his other world self's glare perfectly. "I don't have a husband!"
"You don't?" Evelyn-I asked hastily. "But you're wearing a wedding ring..."
"Yeah." Stephen-II grabbed Evelyn-II's hand. "We're married."
Five.
And then, of course, there was the world in which, thanks to a pair of connecting Arrows, a Stephen-and-Jon who were not in a relationship met a Stephen-and-Jon who were, and that tipped the first Stephen-and-Jon off to the fact that they had been secretly in love for a long time, and after the Arrows had closed they lived happily ever after.
Actually, given that the multiverse is infinite, there were an infinite number of such worlds, separated by all shades of difference, from the very small (as in the universe next door, where Jon grabbed the dark grey shirt out of the closet that morning instead of the light grey shirt) to the downright huge (like the universe so far away that a photon that set off from ours at the beginning of time would not yet have reached it, in which one of them was a used hoverjet salesman from Sirius B and the other owned the spa next door to his dealership, and I will leave it up to you to guess which was which).
Unfortunately, as is the nature of these things, there are also an infinite number of worlds in which it didn't work out. Hearts were broken, tears were shed, backs were stabbed, and painful messes ensued in a trillion trillion different possible ways.
There's no point in dwelling on these. They're no fun, they're downright depressing, and, as with all the worlds changed by Arrows, there's nothing you can do about them. Don't stay with the depressing situations when there are so much more enjoyable ones to focus on.
Like, say, the universe where a portal connected Jon to a CIA agent version of himself, who taught him a few tricks that came in very handy when, six months later, the zombies arrived.
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I think my brain just exploded.
1. That was fucking hilarious. I love the idea of chain-Arrows!! (And shirtless ones at that!) Seriously, you've blown my frickin' mind.
2. Awww!! That is so, so good and so dipped in sadness, I nearly cried.
3. Oh, I love this, and not just because Clooney is involved and Jon is flirting with him. The awkwardness between them is so real and the fact that Stephen thinks so much of his Arrow is great. Though I'm glad it didn't happen in this universe. =)
4. I. Love. You.
5. I'm trying to pick out a sentence I love the most, but can't. This has to be my favourite, and is the perfect conclusion to the super-crazy-insanity that is the multiverse, as you so perfectly put it.
But, for sake of argument, the last line is so crackingly brilliant, I must lay down my sword. You are the true King.
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1) *Stephen voice* Or did I just blow your mi--well, yeah, I guess I did.
2) You're going to like my next fic.
3) I think this idea was the one that grabbed me first. I'm glad it didn't happen here too.
4) All your words, m'dear.
5) Can't take credit for the world "multiverse"; it's a staple of much sci-fi. But oh, it's a fun concept. This last piece was an attempt to give a broader sense of the possiblities, and even then it's only scratched the surface.
Keep your sword, my friend. I couldn't have done this without you.
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You and this universe=awesomeness.
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Thank you!
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also, omg, anton! and the cia! and zombies! and everything else!
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Thank you!
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This was grest!!!!! =D
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Thank you!
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I haven't read the Brief History itself, but I know enough about cosmology and alternate-universe theory to make up things that sound good =)
Thank you!
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These were lovely. I've always loved the idea of a multiverse. #2 had me nearly in tears, and that last line was PERFECT. Hee, zombies. ♥♥
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(In all seriousness: you're going to like what I'm working on next.)
Thank you!
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(Anton! Whee! I've read that fic! XD But, I kinda discontinued it. Can't even remember the title and author. T.T;)
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Glad you liked the ones that worked for you =)
(There's an Anton in the infamous THE WORD, removed from the
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(Please tell me the hoverjet salesman and spa owner are based on a real fic, because, yay. XD )
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(I'm afraid not. But someone should totally write it.)
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GAH! ZOMBIES! Wow, CIA!Jon is sexy. *pauses to look at Jon, and is promptly devoured by zombies*