Unwanted astral projection and me

After the reality incident a while back, my brain got split pretty bad. The school nurse was able to put a few back together, but for the most part, I’ve just had to get used to having twenty-seven internal dialogues instead of one. I don’t mind it much, especially when I need a little extra help on tests, but lately they’ve gotten a bit more stir crazy than usual.

Imagine this. You’re walking to Interdimentional Study 101, and suddenly, instead of in the hallway, you’re walking in a forest. A pretty normal forest, except the ground is black and the sky is red. It’s also inhabited by people without muscles. That’s right, just skin wrapped around some bones and guts.

Turns out, while *I* was in an alternate dimension where what we know as Earth ended up being on Mars instead, my body froze in the middle of one of the busiest halls in school.

The voice that used to be my temporal lobe was the one messing around on Mars-Earth, but once we switched, it was right back there with the others.

So that’s how I ended up here in the nurses' office with a broken nose.

Turns out, none of the other voices have gotten a hold of moving the body yet. Instead of walking to class, my body ended up falling on its face and just lying like that until I came back a day and a half later, in real time.

Fast forward and I’m here. Broken nose, broken face, and extra credit to make up for my mixed classes.

Great.

I don't do astral projection; that’s not my thing. For Reality's sake, I'm more of a medium. I catch glimpses of what is going on in our other realities, but I’m not meant to actually be there!

Unfortunately for me, the others just don’t get that. Somehow, *they* can astral project by choice. The issue is, we’re still all in the same head. One bad bump, and we switch! It’s all fine and dandy for a little bit of what-used-to-be-me to go out, but the me that’s STILL me?? No sir! I’m done with it!

Sure enough, Mr. Ex Temporal Lobe is still complaining. I’m not whining, you’re whining!

Yes, it *is* your fault. You KNOW you’re not supposed to-

I don’t care if the others do it! This time it was your party I dropped in on, so you’re the one I’m mad at.

Whatever. You’re part of a brain. I’m the whole thing. Or, I was. What do you know??!

Anyway, I’ve got more important things to do than argue with a bunch of brain bits.

P. C. Benzene

My disconnected brain bits have gotten antsy, what, being bed bound. You know, with the concussion they caused.

Yes, you caused it.

Anyway, they’ve been throwing themselves all over the multiverse for a little entertainment. That means that if I move the wrong way, sneeze hard, breathe funny, or blink for too long, our concisenessess switch out, and I’m in whatever scenario they got their projected body into.

Since the nurse won’t let me go back to class until tomorrow, I’m going to start logging my visits to make up for the work I’ll inevitably miss.

1. 7:38 A.M. - 8:18 A.M
I’d just woken up. I couldn’t even get a look at the time before I was gone.
My occipital lobe was the one who told me it was around seven. That
must have been who I switched out with.
The area itself wasn’t that bad. I was flying rather quickly through the
shopping district of what looked to be a snowy little town in some
mountain somewhere. There were lanterns strung up, like the
inhabitants were celebrating a holiday. The lights were of many colors.
The only thing that told me it wasn’t our world was the townsfolk
themselves. They had no hair, and their eyes were made entirely of whites.
Other than that, it was a pleasant visit, other than the fact I was freezing.
I was grateful when I came back.

2. 12:00 P.M. - 12:12 P.M.
No idea who or what caused this shift. I was focusing on communicating
with an other-dimensional entity that wandered into the nurses office, and
suddenly I was on my back on the plush ground of the woods. The air had
that sick, sweet, aged smell of rot. I just kinda…closed my eyes. I had
to have been laying there for a while, feeling the sun on my face, before
I decided it was time to see where I actually was. No matter what direction
I looked in, there was nothing but clear forest. I chose a direction, and I
walked. The sun rose six times and set seven. I was still walking, no
sign of life other than the trees. I’m still having a hard time believing I was
there for only a few minutes.

I fell asleep after that. The nurse gave the body some medicine for pain while I was gone, and it must have been what made me so drowsy. There was only one more projection, after that. Well, at least as I’m writing this. I just came back not long ago, actually

3. 1:01 P.M. - 1:32 P.M.
This universe was…well…it felt normal. I came to in Psyhigh, like I never
astral projected at all. The only difference I could notice was that there was
a loud, buzzing noise played over the intercom every ten minutes. Every.
Ten. Minutes. Nobody seemed to notice, much less care. But me?? It drove
me insane! Whatever part of my brain that was hanging out there…hell, I
can’t image why. The crazy thing was, though, every time the noise
played, a student disappeared. I didn’t notice it at first, after all there’s a
lot of students in Psyhigh, but eventually I was able to see it happen. A
girl next to me just…fell out of existence right in the middle of a lecture
on famous mind readers throughout history. In the hallway, a clone boy,
no idea which one, just didn’t exist mid step. Every single time, nobody
acted like they noticed, or even cared! I have no idea what the noise was,
or why it made kids disappear, or even why nobody seemed to care, but
when I was one of the few kids leaving at the end of the day, I could only
think about how glad I was I didn’t have to find out.

Look, I get that it sucks. I can’t imagine how it is being a brain that’s in a body it can’t move, but you guys can’t keep going into random universes just so you can be independent again! I’m not an astral projector, or whatever you call someone who does all that. The migraines it gives me are insane!

….Yes, Cerebellum. Even when it’s not because of a physical concussion.

No, it still sucks just as bad.

You’re a brain! You should know how bad headaches are!

Whatever, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ve got actual psychic abilities I CAN do without feeling like I just got kicked in the face by the whole soccer team.

Look, we’re not getting out of this situation any time soon. You’re all still a part of my body, and that’s not going to change. We’ll get used to this eventually.

Right?

P. C. Benzene

You know, when I shake my head around, I can feel the disconnected chunks of my brain bits fly around in my skull. They don’t like being tossed around like that, but it’s my body. I’ll do what I want.

That’s not the point of this journal, though. I’m actually posting this as a bit of an experiment, so if you’re reading this, I’d really appreciate you letting me know.

Right now, I’m writing this from an alternate dimensional Psy High. In fact, the exact same one I wrote about in my last post. Even after I recovered from that nasty fall and went back to regular class, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I know it’s technically skipping school, but we get dimensional but we get dimensional exchange students all the time. It’s the same thing, really. I just don’t exactly have permission from either school.

Like I said, I don’t know how to astral project. At least, not on my own. If I wanted to go back and figure out just what that place was all about, I’d need help from the others. It took some convincing, but I convinced one part of my mind to project itself back into that weird Psy High counterpart, while I taught the others some very important lessons.

Mainly just how to walk.

Eventually, though, after about a week, most of my many consciousness could go about their days fairly well. It was weird, being piloted around in my own body like a puppet, but I guess I’d better get used to it.

It took a lot of waiting, as we haven’t exactly figured out how to get my consciousness specifically to switch with the others yet, but one day at lunch it finally happened.

That brings us to now, I’ve been projected into this dimension for who knows how long in my own world, but it’s been seven or eight days for me. The buzzing still happens every ten minutes. Students still disappear. From what I can see, they don’t come back.

I want to ask about it, but a part of me is scared of blowing my cover, so to speak. I don’t know how everyone would react if they figured out I wasn’t around here. Would I get in trouble for skipping? Or maybe for impending the native me of this dimension to work, seeing as I took over his body and all.

I’m kind of jealous of him. He didn’t get his brain all split. It’s quiet in here without them.

Either way, something feels too off for me to feel comfortable making my outsider status known. The more I stay here, the more I realize, it’s really freaky. You know the Calebs? They’re here too. Well, the ones that haven’t been chosen by the buzzer. They disappear faster than they’re made. I see them sometimes, but not as much as I should.

That shows you just how bad it is.

Anyway, I shouldn’t say more until I’m sure this is getting out there. Hopefully the wonder that in the internet transcends reality as we know it.

Again, if you see this, PLEASE let me know.

P. C. Benzene

I have buzzer duty coming up, but can't make it due to a scheduling conflict. It's a 2am to 3am shift, but that's the exact same time when the stars are right for data collection on my Yuggoth project.

Anybody want to swap buzzer shifts with me it would really help me out!!

So I want to know about how other people decide who gets it when they're on buzzer duty? I mean, I know we're supposed to always use THE METHOD but sometimes I don't trust it.

Like, the other night, when I was filling in for @Wm. Bethany Patton, I used THE METHOD but really wasn't happy with the choice, so I was kind of agonizing about what to do and just ended up missing that one (the 2:40am buzz).

Is that going to be a problem? That I missed one?

Jonononathan Riggs
Alt-psy-high

If you miss making a buzz, the migration sequencing pattern adjusts for it on its own.

It gets noted on your all-time stats, but there really isn't a penalty. Time might unfold differently for a short time, but the flow generally returns to acceptable probabilistic parameters within 2 to 3 hours.


DKW
Senior Student Advisor
Buzzer Neutrality Division
Alternate Psyhigh

Here's one of those weird reports I found working in the office:

TRANSITION DEBRIEF FAIL #90097

"And as I count down to one, you find yourself at home in your body and you will awaken. Three... two... one."

"Ohhhhhhhh. Oh. Well, my goodness. Where am I?"

"You're fine. You're in your study."

"My... my study? Well, yes, right you are. There are my books, and my beloved sword display, all velvet and mahogany. Quite right. My study."

"Yes, you're doing great. And you are...?"

"Well, hmmph. Yes, of course. I am... here in my study, with my books... and my pipe..."

"Yes, and you are?"

"I'm here, in my study, and my collar is loose, oh my. What time is it? Oh, my watch fob, it's here, isn't it?"

"Yes, your watch. Why don't you take a look at it?"

"You know, this watch belonged to my... to my..."

"Yes, who did it belong to?"

"Well... wait a minute. I don't even own a watch. Where's my phone?"

"Focus on the watch..."

"The watch? What is this place? Some kind of museum?"

"It's important that you calm down. I'm going to count back from--"

"And who put these clothes on me? And... my body? Wait! I'm... I'm old! My face feels... wrong..."

"Medic, we have a breakdown in reelhouse 7, calling for immediate shutdown mode."

"Where am I? What is this place?!"

"Hold him steady while I--"

END OF FILE #90097

I was first contacted by the Olds Network through a woman who appeared from an alley. I was taking my nightly constitutional, but without my old hound Rex, who was at home feeling his age.

"Sir I believe there is something you need to see. Please come with me."

In the gaslight, she appeared prim, like a librarian. She turned and walked into the dark alley.

I knew the city well enough to smell foul trade ahead. Muggers ready to bash my skull in with a sap and remove my wallet! I hurried down the well-lit streets, calculating the most direct way home. But what if I was followed? Shouldn't I take a more circuitous path? But how to avoid secluded areas? How to avoid the killing zone?

Suddenly a door opened. Ahead of me, on the sidewalk. It was a smooth door of ornate wood, and the room inside was incredibly well-lit. Blinding white, in fact.

"For god sakes man! Get in before we're spotted!"

The silhouette of a man of my own age and stature called to me from the door.

"What is this?" I walked up to confront the silhouette, tired of this tomfoolery.

And the man grabbed my shoulder and pulled me in.

They caught a girl crying in the hallway.

If I thought the school, which I’ve lovingly dubbed “Alternate Psy High,”was empty when I first got here, it’s completely abandoned now.

Well, not completely.

But the buzzer hasn’t stopped.

At this rate…

The part of my brain running my body- my real body in the real Psy high- promised that my consciousness would return to said real body in case of danger, but I’m not exactly feeling safe and yet I’m here.

I’ve decided that if it gets to a point where I’m the only person in any one of my classrooms, I’m breaking character. I’ll find a principal or administrator or something. Explain the situation, because I can’t do this much longer.

They caught a girl crying in the hallway. I’m the only other person in my home room class.

Paradi. C. Benzene

I never understood how something could smell “sickly sweet” until now.

How long has it been, really??

I thought this was an exact replica of Psy High. I was wrong. There are no clocks on the walls. No calendars in the classroom. I’ve never seen anyone wear a watch of any sort. There’s no dates written on the whiteboards. The time on my phone has not changed. Is time passing?? I’ve slept, I’ve ate, it must be.

Back when there was people, no one ever mentioned Monday, Tuesday, the month or the year. It was just today, yesterday, and tomorrow.

It’s just today, yesterday, and tomorrow.

I was the last person in most of my classes. Even the teacher was gone. A new assignment was on the door. I didn’t do it.

Like I promised, I thought I’d look for some sort of administrator. A principal or a boss, something. Even a janitor would have worked, but judging by the state of the place, the buzzer chose them all a while ago. It’s so quiet. Dead quiet. I hate the way my footsteps echoed through the halls.

They don’t echo anymore.

They can’t.

The closer i get to the office, the more the floor is carpeted with mold.

Paradi. C. Benzene.