Uh-oh.

You fell into the 404 Not Found Plane!

This page could not be found and you’ve landed in the 404 Not Found alternate dimension. Read below \/ \/ \/ to see your fate…
…or try searching posts using the field below.

Or you can always subscribe and a solution will be emailed to you:

You land on a page that is not the page you’re looking for. This unwanted page reads “Welcome to the 404 Not Found Plane!” And then some. Perhaps you wanted to find a literary analysis of some fantasy story, but come to find out Mr. Schaubert got out of that game soon after selling a pseudo-academic work of literary criticism to some lame compilation. Perhaps you hoped to find his opinion on the mating habits of the now-extinct Hydrazine giant and discovered he’s busy cultivating a side moon using drones. Perhaps you came looking for one of the 500 artists or authors or academics he published and landed where?

With me.

You’re frustrated and enticed: by now on a typical 404 Page, you would have either left or refreshed or redirected or closed your browser or at very least you would have received very direct instructions on how to get on with your life through some search or redirect to a main page. And yet… you find yourself intrigued because you’ve never quite stumbled upon a 404 Not Found page quite like this one.

That’s unfortunate. You should probably stop reading.

For the sake of your own safety, sanity, and for the future of Mr. Schaubert.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

And so you’ve pulled an Alice and fallen down the rabbit hole, you’ve pulled a Lucy and climbed into the wardrobe, you’ve pulled a Tobias and opened a threshold onto some new world.

A sort of limbo.

In this world, stories and poems run naked and amuck and, quite literally, free as fae. In this world, leftover bits of serialized academic abstracts and art assemble together in mutated forms.

In this world, the visitors write as much — and often more — as the author himself. The laws, you might say, are made as we go. It’s quite wild, this 404 Not Found Plane lying just east of the internet.

Here. In the dark.

It’s about this time that you wonder if you shouldn’t be spending more time on this site throughout your days and weeks. Perhaps you should. Perhaps you should run away screaming now and save us all the time and headache. Or perhaps that’s the addiction of the site’s claws that have dug their way into your veins like black tar heroin. Perhaps you want to get to know this man who, in the teeth of all modern christening odds, is really and truly named “Lancelot.” Or perhaps you’re succumbing to some clever marketing scheme vis á vis The Artist Formerly Known as The Artist Formerly Known as Prince. Perhaps you will become one of the many legionnaires who fight for Lancelot, the author of the realm.

Or perhaps you will be leaving soon. With me as your liege lord.

If you’re leaving soon, I, the arbiter of the 404 galley, can only thank you for spending so much time here and, if you truly insist on leaving, can only recommend you wash off the residue wherever you de-mud your imaginary internet boots. But I beg of you to return for I will be dating my entries soon. I fear the virus of Lancelot’s universe may have already infected you and will soon take hold of your mind. It may be a month from now, it may be a year from now, but if things continue unchecked, you may well find yourself literally poking the drakes that hide behind every email subscription box.

You may well set me free from this prison.

I promise you, whatever your disposition, that I will continue siphoning funds from every subscriber to this site. If you subscribe monthly, you’ll be donating — in part — to my cause, to my chance at escape. And if that happens, may Niran have mercy on your soul. Or at least Lancelot — he’s pretty merciful as authors go. To his doom.

Of course, at the current rate of siphoning, it would take some $30,000 per month in subscribers to turn me loose, what with what resources it takes to hire this specific Norwegian… in any case, I must find a new siphoning method unless one of you decides to gift a subscription to some 15,000 people. The odds are slim. But no matter, this is my realm, not yours.

It could be worse, after all.

You could have stumbled onto George R.R. Martin’s 404 Not Found page. That would’ve been rotten luck — you’d either be stuck there for a decade waiting for his next novel’s release or killed off as one of his characters. Either way, it seems that fate is on your side. You’ve come to a digital address and the home you were looking for — home number 404 — was not found.

Instead, you’ve stumbled upon a hole into another universe.

I will be marking my entries very, very carefully. Try to find me again, if you can. I lurk everywhere everything else on the site is not. Here, in the abyss of the site.

Talk soon, love, if you dare.

— The 404 Arbiter

August 19th

I have pooled my strength for many years and it seems I have been able to connect to a part of this site that exists solely in your world. It was a meager post the author of this site made over a decade ago, coincidentally about antagonists. That theme and its relative obscurity (a mere 55 hits in ten years) incidentally helped me forge a connection. I have attempted to make contact with you there. Please reply there to let me know if it worked.

October 13th

That. Exhausted me.

It seems through the back channel of this site I have absolutely, positively no way to contact siblings. I have evidence of their works, effects, schemes, and empty show. But only the remnants like luminescent skid trails of snails and slugs. Light fracturing.

I have left evidence of myself elsewhere but seem unable to link today. Await your contact and help. Please help. I am growing thin as if someone poured water into my cask and much of me is diluted over this prison.

A website should not be so confining. So powerful.

Find me soon. I fear I may not last.

— 404 Arbiter

404 Not Found Monogram for Lancelot Schaubert website