By Gurney Poe, as captured in the Akashic Records

Editor’s Note: What follows appears to be the only recorded instance of Gurney Poe formally explaining dimensional theory, though “formal” might be stretching it. The circumstances of its capture remain unclear. While the Akashic Records theoretically contain everything that ever was or will be, their interface is notoriously temperamental. This particular recording was discovered during an attempt to locate a Radio Shack receipt. It sat quietly between a quantum physics dissertation and a a sequel to the Rosetta Stone, patiently waiting for someone to notice that it explained everything about how reality works.

What emerges is Poe at his most candid, holding court in his impossible apartment, defending his controversial preference for the third dimension to an audience that included Z Kooper, Goliath, Myron Faylor, Glibbit, and Elijah. While clearly impromptu, his explanation would later be recognized as the definitive text on dimensional theory – though its author was merely explaining why he liked it here.

The recording begins mid-conversation, presumably after someone questioned Poe’s choice to abandon the “higher” dimensions for what many considered a lesser realm.

***

There’s an infinite number of dimensions. That’s just fact. But only six that matter, and honestly? Only three worth talking about. The rest are just taking up space.

First dimension? Let me tell you about the first dimension. It’s a line. That’s it. Just a line. No up, no down, no sideways. You can go forward, you can go backward. Those are your options. Two directions – and they’re the same direction! Just… different about it.

You know what you can do with a line? You can measure things. You can point at things. You can wait in one. That’s about it. No restaurants. No card games. Can’t even properly exist there – you’d be a dot! A point in space with delusions of grandeur. Even geometry barely bothers with it except to get to more interesting shapes.

Second dimension? Well, at least it’s got area. Width AND length – that’s infinitely better than just length. You can have shapes, patterns, actual relationships between things. It’s got geometry worth talking about. If you’re a circle, you can actually be round.

But that’s as far as it goes. No volume, no substance. Everything’s flat – and I mean FLAT. No under or over, just next to. No inside, just edges. A book in the second dimension is just its cover. Wine is a puddle in search of a bottle. And consciousness? Try having a decent thought when your imagination is basically a drawing of itself.

But THIS dimension – the third dimension, which is our current locale, more or less – THIS is where things get interesting. In the big ol’ D3, we can oversleep and ride rollercoasters and build blanket forts and eat Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.

Sure, the upper dimensions mock our linear time and predictable physics and peculiar aroma, but they’re just jealous. You know why? Because this dimension actually works.

It’s the whole package. We’ve got proper cause and effect. You drop something, it falls down. Always down. Beautiful in its simplicity. The others call it boring. Predictable. Limited. But they’re missing the point entirely.

The third dimension has actual consequences. Real moments. Things happen, and then other things happen because of those things. You can’t get that anywhere else. Trust me, I’ve tried.

And the people! Third-dimensional beings, they don’t overthink things. They just do stuff. They invent. They create. They make mistakes and then fix them and then make even better mistakes. Try finding that kind of creative chaos in the fifth dimension. Can’t be done. Too much awareness. Too much knowledge, not enough wonder.

The fourth dimension is precisely like this one, except everything happens at once. Sounds great in theory. Total temporal access? But it’s awful. Try telling a story when your audience has already lived through every possible version of it. No suspense. No surprise. No point.

And don’t even get me started on the fifth dimension. Actually, do get me started, because that’s where I’m from and let me tell you – it’s mind-bogglingly complex. Time and space up there? Completely indistinguishable. Like a fuzzy black hole doing the tango with a tesseract. When and where are exactly the same thing. Sounds impressive until you try to get a pizza delivered.

Everything in the fifth dimension is quantum this and subether that. We’re all so busy being everywhere and everywhen that we forget to actually be anywhere or anywhen. That’s why I left. Needed something solid under my feet. Something real.

After that? Dimension six and beyond? Nothing worth mentioning. Dull as putty and mean as snakes. They’re so superior they’ve forgotten how to exist properly.

But here’s the part that makes you special. You, Z Kooper, are something else entirely. Third-dimensional native but completely untethered. And before you ask – which you won’t, because you never do – that’s not normal.

All beings are anchored. Tethered. Even extradimensionals like myself, we know where and when we are. We understand the rules, even when we’re breaking them. But not you. You just vibe and float. And somehow that works.

Third-dimensional beings can observe the first dimension – that boring straight line. They can observe the second – those flat shapes dreaming of depth. And they’re perfectly comfortable here in the third, with its lovely linear time and proper breakfast foods. They might even suspect the fourth dimension exists, watching time pass like honey dripping off a spoon.

But the fifth dimension? That’s where their brains just check out completely. Too much to process. Too many possibilities. Too much everything. Except you. You don’t even try to understand it, which is precisely why you can navigate it. You just stumble through your waking hours, doing stuff. Important stuff.

The timeline is woozled. Busted. And it’s kind of our fault. Well, specifically, it’s the fault of two particular interdimensional troublemakers who maybe shouldn’t have tried to rig a Viking dice game. But that’s ancient history. Or future history. Or parallel history. The point is, somebody’s gotta fix it.

And somehow – don’t ask me how, because even I don’t understand it and I understand literally everything – somehow, you’re the fixer. You keep reality running by breaking it in exactly the right way, over and over again.

So there it is: Time and space are the same thing. Dimensional travel is technically impossible because you’re already everywhere. The other dimensions are vastly overrated. Reality is whatever you perceive it to be. Everything, everywhere, all at once, and also never.

More or less.