Diary of Pip Rippon

We were heading for the Edgefield Obelisk, a construction on the other side of Ugg Hill Height, to the side of the Damflask. I had to walk along almost the full length of the Loxley river from before the confluence of it and the Rivelin, along it banks for several thousands of paces. The adventure begins after you cross the Rowel bridge -- where that huge bunker is, and head along the long and lonely lane. This time, as I approached the lake alongside the ruins of enterprises long forgotten, the murk smelled vile, like something had died, and in the near distance, I could hear strange noises: laughs and howls, screams and an awful strained lowing -- sounds that made me think of strangulation and other heinous things. I worried past with Shad at my side, I'm not even sure that he was comfortable with that cacophony.

Previously I have reported along this route that I had been shouted at by automated devices that must be something to do with the fungai / organic network, but today they were silent -- but then there were no moldenke about today, it being a weekday and not a Spand'y as it had been last time I visited. I recorded some images on my psycmask on the way through though, for future reference.

From there, it is still quite a hike to the obelisk -- originally constructed in 1832 in memory of a child who drowned in the roadside spring that now runs beneath it. It is an impressive building, sat out there all alone, an isolated but majestic monolith emerging from the murk like a needle of vengeance.

Yesterday Shad and I made a trip out to Mam Tor -- the murk was exceptionally light, and it seemed worth the risk. I was most surprised by the number of folk out there for the time of year -- we're well into Windstrom, but the humidity plants have been all over the place of late.

The visit backed up my position that I mentioned in Chronicles book one, about The Dark Peak being opened up to the populace by the DPDC (and likely the nascenti), yet still being a dangerous place to go, if you were to step outside of the artificial boundaries that have been established.

This is a DPDC ad, that's all over the-hivemind, all of the time:

Background music: Uplifting and adventurous tune. Aerial video, moorlands, rolling hills of The Dark Peak.
Escape to a land shrouded in mystery, where rugged beauty and untamed wilderness collide.
Image: Hikers on scenic trail.. waterfall.. wildlife..
Welcome to The Dark Peak, for nature lovers and adventure seekers.
Image: Climber on rocky peak.. cyclists..
Unwind and indulge -- where comfort meets nature.
Image: Murkrise over The Dark Peak..
The Dark Peak. Discover the magic. Experience the adventure.
This was a public utility broadcast by The Dark Peak District Council.

Sounds great, eh?

Forget that advertisement, The Dark Peak is a dangerous place, at least so I am led to believe. But The Nascenti overlords are obviously keen to share the impression that it is something of a leisure space for their unsuspecting human slaves to enjoy, despite the risks. Maybe they're correct, I suspect they have it pretty well segregated so that if you were to visit the Winnats Pass or the Ladybower lake, or you were to hike up Kinder Scout or run along Stanage Edge, you would not see a single xin or Dyapnid, or any other of the warlike denizens that live out there. They will have had some fenced off reserves constructed, I'm sure, just to provide some semblance of normality -- but rest assured, should you cross the fence, or wander off the track well trod, you would be taking your life into your hands.

This photograph from my psycmask is a view from between Back Tor and Lose Hill, across the Edale valley towards the Kinder plateau, and shows what I've talked about in the book perfectly -- see that fence in the foreground?

Signs say that the fencing is to "keep animals out, rather than you in" -- you can do what you like, feel free to roam, at your own expense, obviously; you really don't want to cross that barbed wire fence, better stay this side, where it's safe from those nasty unknowns that lurk out there in the murk.

Got out today on a route that I take about once a month, murk permitting. It's around a six mile circular walk, so nothing too taxing, but the murk must have been light, as I progressed rapidly, and more rapidly than I have ever before. I'm not sure why this would be, but I shaved a massive 2 and a half minutes off my average time for a mile. Normally, I'd average 20 minutes a mile over all terrain. Today I took that down to 17 and a half. Unprecedented. I have an idea that it might be because I have off-loaded some pressure from the off-world -- some assets that have maybe been causing me some background stress -- whether I knew it or not. A result of my expulsion from the university of Hallamshire maybe? Whatever, if it was a weight off my mind, it was also a weight off my body.

I watched an interview with Kim Stanley Robinson (Hugo, Nebula and Locus award winner for his Red, Green and Blue Mars novels) some time ago (and I can no longer find the video, sorry :(), where the conversation discussed that the landscape of Mars was one the main characters in the novels. That made an impression on me. With The Dark Peak, although the environment is incredibly powerful and a major source of inspiration, a much bigger character, and something that gets mentioned far more often, is the murk, so this Postcard from The Dark Peak is dedicated to all that is the murk -- what it is, where it comes from and what it contains (as far as is known)...

The murk is a major feature of life in The Dark Peak. Oily and thick, a dense and perpetual fog, and clammy chill -- a clinging, odourless effluent that sticks to clothing and at best provides visibility no better than ten paces ahead. The murk is the persistent fog and cold dampness that constantly covers Hellsborough and The Dark Peak; blocking out most sun and moonlight.

It is organic in a large part, due to the general foulness of the weather in the area, but it is supplemented by The Nascenti constructed humidity plants dotted across The Dark Peak. These humidity plants exist for the benefit of all of The Dark Peak's denizen races including The Xin, Exacid, clown, Dyapnid, Mentiloth and Cryptobite, who all prefer the additional moisture in the air.

The main humidity plant, which is mentioned in Van Hallam's Chronicles book one, is located somewhere around the vicinity of Hope, Derbyshire, but there are other sub-plants dotted about in the five main areas of The Dark Peak: The clown territories of Glossopia and Hatheran, North and South Xinlandia, and the nascenti controlled Hellsborough.

The murk makes breathing more difficult for humans, hence the use of psycmasks in the valley at Hellsborough (psycmasks also provide Augmented Reality, which is necessary due to the poor visibility, as well as nutrition), but the poor air quality rarely extends into the higher Netherlands on the other side of the great causeway, at places like Southey and Pitsmoor.

The murk maintains a fear, whether or not it is warranted; legend and myth has it that the murk contains "ghosts" -- there are (at least) two types -- Syncarid -- variably sized stingray type creatures capable of enveloping and stinging anyone to death, and Morivarid -- piranha type fish that suck the eyeballs and tongues from anyone who comes across a shoal of them as they swim through the murky ether. The murk also protects various other cryptids from greater exposure, including the don bog beast, barghests, boggarts and gabbleratchets. And then, of course, there are those other ghosts of the murk -- the murk wraiths -- the sight of which is never a good sign.

In the lexicon of The Dark Peak, the murk assumes various guises, echoing the diurnal rhythms of the ethereal murkrise at dawn, to the concealed whispers of murkfall at dusk, and the clandestine murkneet that engulfs the nocturnal hours -- the murk etches its presence into the temporal fabric of The Dark Peak. Weather is a huge feature of life in The Dark Peak, with many names for types of weather than you don't have in the off-world. Naturally, the murk is also therefore, part of the year naming system, more details you can find out about here.

The murk is not just an atmospheric phenomenon but a living, breathing entity, and a true character as important as any other in The Dark Peak.

When I got here -- to Hellsborough -- I was rock bottom. You really can't get any lower than I was at that point. When I arrived in this place, I had nothing. I had nothing in the off-world -- in your world -- working for a PhD is time consuming, and expensive. My debts ran into the 000's, like £80k. Don't worry, I'm honest, I didn't run away; it's all paid back now.

But I know some scum in the off-world, that wouldn't have done.

Anyway, bygones. That first time through The Hinge, I had no idea what I could bring, so I just came through in the clothes I was wearing -- much like as Van went into the wisewood, that day that he decided to leave Hellsborough. Nowt but a dirty vagrant tyke was how he phrased it, if I recall correctly. And then, of course, I nearly died -- but I've told you that before.

But as I know now, you can pull yourself up by your bootstraps. You can succeed in this place. It's all really simple, really. There isn't anything mythical about making ¢hits.

Making ¢hits is just about giving people what they want, and in Hellsborough, making ¢hits is what life is all about. And marketing and margins. That's all.

Don't get me wrong, I'll never be Farantees, but then I have no desire to be Farantees either, but making a few ¢hits every day by telling you about the way to make ¢hits, when you've had to start at the bottom -- with nothing -- is its own reward.

On the serious case of the desolution of The Hinge...

You've all been asking me questions -- difficult ones.

The biggest query you have, is how I am able to communicate from another dimension -- or at least a parallel universe -- I'm no physicist, so I don't know the difference between one or the other to be honest, but I do get where you're coming from with your questions.

Back in the early days, when I first came here -- to Hellsborough -- that was 79.hail-ripperthroat. I didn't have a clue about much. I was flailing about this way and that, and I crossed The Hinge many times. I had to go back home many times. But I couldn't stay away either.

That was bad. Bad for me. Bad for the population of Hellsborough. And, I'm sorry to say, bad for you too -- if you are an inhabitant of Hillsborough, S6. That criss-crossing of The Hinge that I did, weakened it. That's why -- or at least, that's one reasons why, dark matter is leaving Hellsborough.

And from what I understand, dark matter leaving Hellsborough is not a good thing. In your world, when dark matter interacts with matter, the result is destruction -- complete annihilation. At the moment, I understand the leakage is minimal, but if I were to keep crossing The Hinge, it would get weaker and weaker, until finally it ceased to exist at all, and then all that dark matter would flow into your world and collide with the matter, and that would be that. That would be the destruction of the whole world -- not just Hillsborough/Hellsborough, not just The Dark Peak, not just Sheffield, not just the UK. Not just Europe -- the entire world.

I'm staying in Hellsborough now. That seems the sensible thing to do: D'divi! I don't want to cause the destruction of the world!

So I'm stuck here, but I'm not complaining. I have work to do, and one of the things on my agenda is telling you about my experiences as a fledgling in Hellsborough:

I had no ¢hits. I had not much of anything. But not only did I survive, I prospered. And I owe it to you to share my experiences and my learning -- and I'll do that. I'll let you know everything I know about surviving and strategies for making some ¢hits -- and I reckon you can use them in the off-world -- in your world too.

But I'm getting off my original topic. I wanted to tell you about how you are receiving this message.

I'm in Hellsborough. I have a contact in Hillsborough. He's my publicity guy. He's not a professional or anything, just some guy I met on the Middlewood road in a bar, and we got chatting, you know how it goes -- he offered to help me out.

Sorry mate, you know who you are, and you have my fullest gratitude.

Back in hail.ripperthroat, last year, I brought him hand-written notes and drawings and the like, and left it at that, that was fine for starters.

I'll not give you his name here, but he's not had to find, should you wish to. He's a proper fixture in a number of the bars on the Middlewood road.

But now that I am "stuck" over here, I had to find another way. This year is 79.squall.longleg, and I have been here long enough to understand and find another way to communicate -- I can't just call up Twitter or Facebook on my phone, because 1. I have no phone and 2. There is no Interweb.

What I do have is a psycmask which connects me to the hivemind, which is essentially the same a 1 & 2 -- but they don't connect back to your Twitter or Facebook.

Not directly at least, that is.

I have written before about how the murk crosses The Hinge. Of course it does -- and the Loxley river too. All air and water does.

and that got me thinking about communication. If humidity and water crosses The Hinge, couldn't data do so too?

The technology of The Dark Peak is far more advanced than yours, and it's all just atoms after all.

And I found a way to send my despatches to my contact in the off-world -- there's a way to connect from our networks here to your networks there -- don't ask me how it's done, I just requested it on the hivemind -- and it worked!

So there's your answer, if you were asking. I am here is Hellsborough. My publicist is the other side of The Hinge in Hillsborough, and he posts my communications on this website, on my email newsletter, on Twitter/X, or wherever I request. For more understanding about this world, you could do worse than reading my curated guide which helped me understand this place, and might help you understand it too :)