The future! A mere function of time, layabouts thought, but the go-getters knew nothing would happen without their forcing it to. The region of Opuwa around Vanilla Stage, chosen for its proximity to both Furious Galaxy and Convergence/Divergence territory and because the Styleful Happy!! The Battle girls had not yet attended any concerts there, hosted the Extra-Empire Exploration Expo, or E4. Anyone with an idea for exposing new games to conquest was welcome to try it out in an atmosphere of inquisitiveness where no failure could be too abject.
Eten supervised the construction of a giant ladder, afraid that everyone involved would presume somebody else tried such an obvious idea already and thereby leave it undone. “A ziggurat might be better,” he said as he watched his workers scatter to avoid a falling ladder. Again. “Then we would still have a building when it didn't work. That might be too defeatist . . .”
While the workers hurried to assure him they respected any thought process which led to a conclusion than another frail ladder, Higgins of Fort Fondue shot Darrell of South Cabbage out of a cannon. “This model was made to shoot fireworks, but thinking up uses the manufacturer never did is the way to do things as far as I'm concerned. Huh. The distance is good, but the height needs something.” He kicked the barrel up a few degrees. “Any volunteers?” Heartful Azalea and Kojiro fought each other to be first, but Higgins had enough cannon for everyone.
Though it had required some consultations, diagram submissions, and hearings, Listeria Adan's scheme to attach a giant drill to the Brave Cumulus received permission, support, and an audience. An audience that asked a lot of questions about why she attached the drill to the front instead of the top, which she answered to their satisfaction with an argument on grounds both aerodynamic and practical. “We can change it if this doesn't work,” she concluded, silencing the doubters and sending them into ruminations about optimal drill locations. The rare rear drill? One on either side for dirty air races? Just slap one on every open space to let it tunnel underground in every direction, a true earth flyer.
Slay Every Dragon, the vanguard of new era fantasy though not the ultimate, jumped into the spirit of the day with both feet and other limbs as well, some of which ought not to be mentioned. Evan Wheelwich convinced Michael to muster the heavenly host and fly high, carrying a payload of elionium condensed at sub-dragon-formation level with paste spread on one side. At the limit of their endurance, they tossed it upward in the hope it would stick to whatever barrier denied them access to the unknown regions, where he would detonate the charges remotely. Evan did his part and the Angels theirs, but the paste failed to adhere, causing panic below and later some stern letters to various paste sellers.
Naturally hot air balloons of different designs peppered the sky at different altitudes, and nothing could be more certain but that motorcycles flew under and sometimes next to them as daredevils challenged Tasket's contribution, the Always Extending Ramp. Marketing insisted on the name. He extended it as fast as he was able under the circumstances of relying on undependable assistance given by characters who ran around the attractions and sampled everything available.
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The exhibition area grew and grew larger still. Promising projects expanded in scope, discontent dabblers abandoned dead ends without wasting time to clean them up, and hopefuls started up new, paradigm-breaking experiments such as an even bigger ramp. So aggressively did the loyal fantasy coalitionists pursue innovations and novelty that many rode the prototype space elevator to the provisional top, assisted in loading the dynamite catapult, or called down curses on the invidious ceiling alongside a coven of witches several times before they realized who stood next to them.
“My card.” Vice President Lane handed said card to Oberon, who looked at it, expressed his appreciation of Lane's style, and walked off to ask Quircy Rau when she had invited Convergence/Divergence to attend E4.
“Not yet. I haven't gotten around to inviting Dinosaur Rumble either, but that doesn't stop those pterosaurs from flying around with saws strapped to them. Not that I'm against that. I just think they should have admitted they wanted to copy our amazing expo.”
They never admitted that, not Convergence/Divergence, not Furious Galaxy with its space elevators and mass drivers, not Radiant Illusion Country's witches, and certainly not the airship barons of Fields of Steam, though those did apologize for colliding with Hot Air Hank's balloons. “Terribly sorry, old man,” a fellow whose face boasted a beard surpassed in sophistication and vigor only by the mustache just north of it told him, sweeping off his hat as he bowed.
“Either he's from Fields of Steam or he's a hipster,” said Luerre Voine.
“No need to choose,” the man called down.
Luerre considered taking up arms against the hated enemy. Nobody else seemed to be doing it though, and so he refrained, little realizing that the others came to the same decision after they saw him relax. All over, the subjects of every empire waited for someone else to start trouble instead of waiting in line to buy cotton candy, to kick up a fuss instead of kicking back on a Ferris wheel constructed to allow access to the second staging platform of the gantry erected at Helmut Kreuzfaber's galactically furious orders.
“We are agreed that we shall not attack one another until we find a way to other games?” So spoke Model Zero, the most sophisticated android Furious Galaxy could send, to his counterparts from the other factions: a green-suited man with poofy hair and a woman with too much jacket and not enough skirt.
“Unless both parties are into it,” Mr. Linnell stipulated.
“What's the penalty? We don't take them with us to make D******* L*** feel sorry about being found? I just came up with that,” Quircy Rau claimed, certain the other two would not dare call her on it during those delicate negotiations. They had enough trouble ignoring the characters running around them who sometimes confused around with through, probably because of the two letters in the middle. Tricky stuff when your busy mind was counting the materials necessary to construct a fan large enough to disperse a world-sized cloud.
“Yes. Let that be made clear to all.” The three leaders tried to shake hands, realized three-way handshakes required new ways of thinking and doing, and made a handshake ring before they withdrew to their power centers where they ordered underlings to put up some signs outlining the terms of the new compact.
“'No fihgting.' I certainly wasn't planning to do that. I don't even know what it means,” Luau Lua said.
“Trust a rich girl not to know about fihgting,” Weaponlord muttered to his low-rarity buddies, who snickered at the sheltered young lady's ignorance till Quircy Rau ran over and demanded they fix the lettering.