It always fascinates me how peoples and cultures can evolve in isolation from each other, and yet share such similar legends. Take the Turali, for instance. When they appeared here in Alexandria thirty years ago, our cultures could not be any more different, any more separated, and yet even they told tales that sounded oddly familiar to an Alexandrian ear. For instance, we both have a legend where crystalline creatures appear on the fields of war after battle, to feed on all the energies released in the fighting. And the bigger the battle the more energy expended and life force liberated the more terrible the titan that appears to feed. Perhaps the tales were intended as warnings against war: that nature will always punish those who wage it, no matter how powerful they might be. Or perhaps they are simple statements of fact: that here, as in Tural, massive disturbances in the aether are wont to awaken something inside the earth. If crystalline beasts start to appear during a particularly strenuous hunt, don't be surprised if their master isn't far behind!

  The data we extracted from the mainframe told us that there's an automaton called the Forecaster stationed somewhere in Living Memory. It's a bit of a misnomer, to be honest. It doesn't "report" the weather so much as Ȭontrol" it, manipulating the aether in the air to create and maintain different climates. At least, that's what it was designed to do. According to the error reports we've seen, it's taken on something of a life of its own – and if left unchecked, the chances of it causing an "un"natural calamity are growing by the day. We don't know where it is right now, but we think we might know a way to draw it out. Its Ȯxtreme weather event suppression system" is still operational, you see, so if you can find a way to summon up a localized blizzard or somesuch, it might just come on over and suppress you!

  She might look like a pretty, porcelain doll, but trust me, you don't want to play with her. As far as we can tell, she was created to keep Living Memory clean. That would explain the song she's always singing: ȭust, dust, go away, come again another day." As to the question of how she came to carry a giant scythe rather than a broomstick... we're still working on it. We sent in a sentry to test how she'd react, but we lost signal straightaway. I assume it's in a lot of little bits by now. Careful she doesn't clean you out, too!

  Ah, yes, the floating eyeball. With the tentacles. We called it a cat's eye because of its slit pupil, like a cat's. Also because of the way it rolled around on the floor and made a strange, purring sound when our sentry approached. Just before giving chase and tearing it apart. With its tentacles. Nostalgia was the first to spot it. She said it reminded her of an old saying: "When a cat passes away, it takes the sorrows of its owner with it." She always thought it meant something like "very cloud has a silver lining" that in the face of something so sad, all other worries fade away. But what if a dead cat ⊬tually" takes its owners' sorrows with it to the underworld, and together they meld into a new creature – half pussycat, half "misery incarnate"! Puts you off ever getting a pet...

  I expect you saw the odd creatures in Yesterland? The ghosts stitched together from old sheets? Well, one among them caught our survey team's attention. Reason being that we found it "outside" Yesterland. It draped itself across other creatures... and when it floated into the air again, they were gone. We don't know where they went, but we ȭo" know that they never came back! If you're wondering about the name, we took it from an old Alexandrian faerie tale. I would tell you what happens in it, but it would only give you nightmares.

  Our exploration of Living Memory is mainly being done by hacking into the mechanical sentries and controlling them remotely. It's a lot safer than actually traveling there, but it does have its downsides. The attention they get, for one. The hacking process takes a lot of time and effort, so you can imagine how much we ⊭ore" those creatures who hound them wherever they go. The jewel bearers are the worst of the lot. If they see anything shiny, they just can't leave it alone. Sometimes they'll pluck the heads off the sentries and run away with them! They're really interfering with our work, so if you come across one on your travels, give it a smack in the chops from me!