But A Dream Hub
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Memo of Johnathan Mildew, Site Director of Site-433


I said a long time ago that things are getting worse, and they really, really, are.

This toon shit has been a logistical nightmare. There are the little things: comics that make you think their topics are the funniest thing in the world; a cardboard cutout of a dog that resembles [DATA EXPUNGED] when you look too closely at it; living creepypasta characters; guys who make you not care about them.

But then there are the big things. Milkshakes you can order at every single restaurant in America that'll spirit you away; entire inaccessible areas of thought that press into your head and turn you inside out; whole unstable worlds conjured by a cardboard box.

We here at Site-433 have a reputation for being "snobs." We're pretentious, and emotional, irrational and unscientific. That's what people think of us. And if you're being transferred here, that's what your friends and coworkers think of you, too.

But I'll tell you this: The work we do is the most important work you will ever do. Even those small anomalies turned into something huge. We had a VR game about a farmer, and it sunk an entire Site, incapacitated dozens of people, and if it weren't for us, it might've decided to swallow the world whole. It was our biggest achievement, no one even knows about it, and we're dealing with worse things on the regular now.

You've probably noticed by now, the trend between these anomalies — cardboard boxes, milkshakes, video games, cutouts, whatever — they're all art. Childish, vulgar, and often simplistic, but art nonetheless.

There's something wrong with the concept of art.

Art is a subjective, human concept, or so we thought. We're quickly learning that there are other beings in this world, and in other worlds, that have their own understanding of art, or they are art, or they redefine on an objective level what art is around themselves, and they aren't all the same beings, none of them run on the same rules, and most of them are simply incomprehensible to the human mind.

There are many, many cases. A whole army of Yellow Kings springing forth from every nook and cranny, every single object on Earth a potential doomsday clock. Because art is everything, art can be anything.

Sculptures, video games, children's games, vandalism, clip art, shopping mall flyers, scripts, candy bars, all arts. Maybe your previous Site contains art, and you didn't even realize it. Maybe your Site doesn't know how much art there is.

An exhibit is art, whether it's one of the above or a zoo for animals or a living exhibit or an exhibitionist, and who knows what kind of shit will crawl out of there.




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That doesn't mean we just sit and take it, though. It's awful and it consumes so much of your life, but we're doing something good here. Something that helps people. Every time I have to see hyperrealistic bleeding eyes pop out of a TV and roll across the now-stained office carpet, I know I just prevented dozens of children from seeing the same thing.

And we have leads. Sputnik Studios is just one of many anomalous entertainment companies — but they're gone. All we have to chase is their ghosts. And the more we find, the more that this gaping gap in our reality can narrow.

We're working on theories, too. Research. Philosophical and scientific inquiries. We give them names — toons, Alucanari-class entities, phylum Eldritch, so on — and just because we haven't cracked them yet doesn't mean we won't. These things are so far beyond us, but there's still something human about them. Maybe they're just humans from other places. I've heard of humans becoming toons, and toons becoming humans, and I've heard there are things in-between too.

Some of them are on our staff. Like say, Rowan, he's got something wrong with him like that now. It isn't a bad thing. He's still quite a valuable member of the Foundation.

But it's so frustrating.

We try to get close to it and we run right into a wall. A wall we didn't know was there until we got close to it. But you can only hit a wall so much before the wall starts to chip away.

We might not get anywhere in my lifetime, but we're making strides. Maybe you'll be the one who cracks this mystery right open. Crack the world right open even. I've been trying. Pouring over these notes on my desk. My theory so far? I think this is all

but a dream.


and there's only so far you can slide into the pit. We can reclaim our art. We can live alongside other versions of art. And it'll stop hurting, I hope.

Get back to work.


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