Drinks and T.P. @ 11

The multiverse expands with every decision made. It is this fact that makes time travel extremely difficult for finding any particular destination. Most travelers, for this reason fly blind, randomly landing, looking, and generally mucking up temporal harmony.

Most time travelers consider themselves "cowboys" but in truth they are really nothing more than cosmic hobos. A most dangerous situation, although rare, occurs when agendas creep into the mix. This unfortunate event is exactly what happened. Among the travelers two conflicting schools of thought emerged. One group believed that travel should be regulated, cataloged and chronicled. The others didn’t want to be bogged down in anymore temporal policy, “T.P.” and temporal paperwork, confusingly also “T.P.”. It was the freedom they enjoyed; it was about the journey. The others desired the comfort and the confirmation which one can only find in an absolute destination.

There exists, only one place that a decision like this could, and finally would, be made. It was deep in exact centers of the Eleventh Dimension. Yes, the writer means “centers”. This anomaly occurs between two matching holes found precisely at the center of the eleventh dimension. A concept so elusive that the greatest physicists and philosophers could only describe it as sort of similar to a dimensional sheet with two eye holes cut out like a poor kid’s ghost costume on Halloween.

Here, at “11”, even time had no business. Remote and safe from the expansion of the multiverse, this interesting place where only shadow and thought existed and became one. It also became the home and watering hole of all temporal policy decisions. The “11 bar” is where temporal hobos met, drank, and set policy. It was like Washington, only creepier, and things really, really, really got done.