Space that isn't space is a problem to describe. The same holds for time. Rampant misuse of the term 'dimension' doesn't help either. If you're reading this, you exist in four dimensions. Three are spatial, the fourth is time.
The misuse of the term 'dimension' started some time ago, and hasn't shown any signs of ceasing in the vernacular. Hell dimension? No, unless what you're describing is a fifth axis, or sixth, or seventh. And that's not what we're talking about when we say 'hell dimension.' What we mean to say is 'Hell universe' or 'hell pocket universe' or 'hell alternate reality' or somesuch. Apparently, 'hell dimension' is catchier.
So it goes.
The two creatures we start with don't live in a hell dimension. They live in our universe and the mess of unused dimensions left over after the beginning of space-time as we know it.
Remember 'Jasmine'? Swimming in the fires of creation? Well, yeah. Our space-time used four dimensions, leaving 22 perfectly good ones out in the cold.
Or maybe 23. It all gets a little complicated after 18.
Depending on your perspective, those remaining 22 dimensions are either rolled up into a ball stored inside a quantum particle or a massive agglomeration in which our universe floats. It's all a matter of perspective.
The creatures that lived in the endless non-time before space-time swam through 26 dimensions. They certainly couldn't squeeze into four, as the endless permutations of Jasmine's insertion into our reality attest to. Once the universe started, these ancient beings were stuck inside and outside. They existed in 26 dimensions, after all, not 22.
The Powers That Be intersect our reality -- if they didn't, they wouldn't be able to talk to it. But talking's hard. Imagine trying to have a conversation with an intelligent one-dimensional point.
Not an easy thing to think of, is it?
And that point shares time with you, meaning that you're trying to talk to something that possesses half the space-time references you have -- it can understand time, and it can understand location. Do the math. The Powers try to carry on conversations with things -- things called 'us' -- that share four of 26 dimensional reference points. That's 15%.
Imagine the frustration.
But enough with the physics stuff.
So, two powers are hanging out at a bar, trying to keep tabs on what's going on in our space-time. They've already sent a message to a particular fellow who calls himself Angel through a former message-conduit called Cordelia, and they're waiting around to see what happens.
Except, of course, they exist in so many dimensions that they're not so much waiting as mulling over box scores from a game played three weeks ago, even though it's a game that in another frame of reference is going on right now.
Understand their problem? That's OK, neither do I. But it's there anyway.
"Let me take a look at that," one power says. We'll call it Cobalt-97. It's as good a name as anything else.
"OK," the other power says. We'll call it Halogen Sunglasses. There's really no point in trying to find appropriate translations for their names. It would be easier to translate colours into smells.
Halogen Sunglasses slides a thing over to Cobalt-97. The thing is a newspaper. It isn't, of course, but you know the drill.
"Well," Cobalt-97 says, "is that a good result or a bad result?"
"Blimey," Halogen Sunglasses says, "it's really a wash, isn't it?"
"Well, I don't like the way this looks. Has it happened yet, or is it about to happen?"
"Both. Neither."
"Right. Right. Well, how about we get that fellow on the horn?"
"Smiley?"
"No, not Smiley. Wrong universe. Whistler."
"Ah, right, Whistler. He hasn't been around for awhile. I think."
"Yes. Get him the...that's a location and a time, right?"
"I believe so. Yes, yes it is."
"Well, get him the location and time and some of the specifics with some lead, um, time to get a team together."
"Right. That's good. OK, done."
The two peered at the newspaper that wasn't a newspaper.
"Ah," Cobalt-97 said. "That's much better."
"Yes," Halogen Sunglasses said, "yes, it is. Caught those little buggers at that whatchamacallit..."
"Produce stand?"
"No."
"Interstitial transmutational veeblefetzer?"
"No."
"Law firm?"
"Law firm, that's it. Caught by surprise twice in one, um, day."
"Well, four dimensions and a bit of access to the fifth. They're really pretty big for their britches, all things considered."
"Yes, yes they are." Halogen peered at the newspaper article again. "Ah, he gets to kill a dragon. That is nice, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes it is."
"Well," Halogen said, raising a not-drink in its not-hand, "here's to that, and many more smashing, what do you call them?"
"Travails?"
"No."
"Virconiums?"
"No."
"Adventures?"
"That's it! Adventures. Even though he's a four-dimensional point, I've grown quite fond of him."
"Agreed."
They toasted.
THE END
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