Its mountains look too perfect to be real; even their asymmetry seems idealized by any Earth standards, as if designed. Forests of towering leafy trees cover the steep slopes to the edge of the large, fjord-like, deep-blue lake, mostly beachless. This landscape and the innumerable, equally idealized others in its universe could be collectively thought of as Olympus, but their inhabitants are more players than gods.
At one point the mountains do not plunge into the water. There a valley comes down with its stream to the lake, a valley U-shaped without benefit of any glacier ever. Near its mouth spreads a rich lawn-like meadow, almost a putting green, never having known a caretaker, yet innocent of weeds, though not of tiny flowers that sprinkle it with color, blue as flax, yellow as buttercups. Structures of marble are scattered artfully, their style reminiscent of Hellenic Greece, but gracefully gracious instead of imposing, with roundness the principal motif.
All in all it looks like a Maxfield Parrish painting, rather than like any place on Earth. (Parrish was an insightful man, more than he knew.) Everything here is beautiful.
But for the beings who base in the Maxfield Parrish universe, interest and adventure are elsewhere. In a metaphorical sense, the Maxfield Parrish universe might be thought of as a balcony or mezzanine, although the analogy is weak; video arcade might fit better. At any rate, for a very long time, its "occupants" have had most of their attention in another universe, just as on Earth, some people spend much of their time at the theater, or playing video games.
Over the ages, the avoidance of boredom has been highly developed by the immortals dwelling here. Intricate and ingenious machinery and rules have evolved, and play engrosses the inhabitants almost totally. But of course, the Maxfield Parrish universe requires no maintenance, no production, no service; it exists and functions without attention.
Actually, from the standpoint of play, its inhabitants could almost as well be based in empty blackness, but the Maxfield Parrish universe is better than limbo because it is aesthetic. It has been there since long before the universe of interest, and in it, bodies require no care or feeding.
In the Maxfield Parrish universe, interpersonal communication has nothing to do with the compressibility of air, although its rules of communication have some things in common with speech. For example, it is subject to the volition of the "speaker." However, it is also subject to the volition of potential "listeners:" unwanted communication is not received. Nor is spatial proximity necessary, although it is often enjoyed.
In the instance of interest to us, several who were part of the conference lounged together on the turf. Together with conferees elsewhere they numbered nearly a dozen, and by agreement they all had fully removed their attentions from the other universe, which might loosely be termed "the stage," "the video game," or "the playing field." "Later," when they returned their attentions to the game, they would return them to the exact time from which they'd withdrawn them, unless they decided otherwise. As nearly as their conversations can be put into words, their assorted inputs went something like this:
"...I'd say we're doing nicely. We have four gathered in one group and four in the second, and I'm quite optimistic about developing the third."
(Sense of laughter.) "If we pull this off, it will be the biggest coup in the history of Tikh Cheki. The reality generator is well on its way to a phase three."
(Another.) "The key is to outmaneuver The Four. And I must say, things don't look very promising."
(A fourth.) "I disagree. Would you like to wager? I'll bet a class-two penalty against a dropout that we pull it off."
(Thoughtfully.) "Unrealistic."
"I don't think so, for two reasons: the energy has been bled off the Balthor Incident, and The Seven Lords of Chaos were extradited."
"It's still over-optimistic. The chances are, they didn't happen soon enough for this cycle."
"Well, then, a wager. If you're right, you have little to worry about."
"No, thank you." (Sense of grinning.) "I never bet against myself."
(Another.) "Does anyone here have any changes or additions to suggest with regard to either our strategy or our tactics?"
There was a general negative response—a sense of "we're doing excitingly well, given the obstacles," and "we actually have a chance to win now!"
(Another.) "I'm going for a swim before I put this body back in the closet. Anyone care to join me?"
Of the several on the site together, all but two got up and ran to the lake. They wouldn't swim for long, though. Their real interest was on the playing field.