Quincy Halifax was literally not from this world. He originated in a different universe entirely, but he was born with a special ability to crossover. The truth is that everyone capable of dreaming is also capable of traversing the bulkverse, which holds an infinite number of universe branes. A dreamworld has always been considered a mental collection of thoughts and memories; one that is abstract, and does not exist on its own. Actually, it does exist physically, within the hyperdimensional construct we know as collective reality. Most dreamworlds don’t last beyond the dreamer’s sleeping state, but for the ones that are stable enough, Quincy can access them. His is a long bloodline of dreamwalkers, who have used their abilities to accomplish various ends. Some build constructs where others can visit while maintaining full lucidity. Others travel the bulkverse, helping the people they find there, in whatever capacity they can. One of the more common uses for lucid dreamworld generation is to aid in people’s learning. By doubling up on the productivity for the fraction of the day that’s otherwise used for only one thing: sleeping or learning, participants can spend their waking hours doing whatever else they want. Quincy did end up becoming a teacher in Atlantis, but he did so using more traditional techniques. He actually didn’t use his ability to teach his students. He had no particular reason for this; it simply didn’t occur to him. He never thought he would soon be expected to use it for them in a unique way. Rather, he would expect it of himself. Some of his students found themselves in possession of very powerful technology, which could manipulate the events in other universes. Had he realized they obtained it in time, he could have stopped it, but once they started using it, there was no going back. His only option at that point was to enter the universe they were manipulating, using his own ability to crossover, and help the people living there as best he could. He chose to become a gravedigger, as unglamorous as that was. He figured he wouldn’t be able to alleviate much of what his students were putting their unwitting characters through, so any attempt to help any one person—or even a group of people—would be too myopic in thinking. He decided the best way he could help was to bury the dead. He didn’t bury everyone in the world, of course. The natives were generally responsible for their own practices. He was only in charge of a specific class: those who experienced nonlinear time. He chose this because, while there were billions of individuals in the universe altogether, his students were only having a direct impact on these relative few. He felt that this made them the students’ responsibility, and by extension, his. He wasn’t naturally immortal, but he knew he had so much work to do, and he couldn’t risk dying himself before it was done. Fortunately, he had a literal god’s eye view of the world, and was able to procure the necessary ingredients so that his mission would never be interrupted.
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