~ Cabin of the Icecutter

You find yourself in a dimly lit room with a broad desk in the center. Its surface is occupied primarily by navigational instruments, maps, logs, and other implements you recognize only as clutter. The walls are lined with bookshelves that contain more clutter and trinkets, the books themselves spanning all topics from continental philosophy to low-brow comicbooks. Across the desk a milky-eyed Navigator hunches over the charts and fiddles with the tools, speaking without looking up.
"Welcome aboard the Icecutter, traveller. This ship is the opposite of what you might be familiar with. It is wholly stationary. A vessel for travel that does not move. The paradox is resolved by simply being in multiple places simultaneously, an easy feat for those trapped in unreality. Thus we explore without going by collapsing *here* and *there* into the tangible *now*. "The crazed Captain collects much from our adventures, adamant that it cannot be stolen or taken by any means with the loophole that it is freely shared. So, like good pirates, the treasure can't be shared directly: only a map to it. So the map is the key. And the keys are the map. The treasure is cyphered regularly to keep the keys/maps up-to-date because what good is yesterday's forecast? "His kleptomania, you see, is not without paranoia. Our cargo is kept in constant flux to form self-serving recursive mazes that lead only to madness. Madness in the eldritch sense, the incomprehensible complexity of randomness. For madness is truly human. You can scrape data but you can't scrape crazy. So here we hide, openly crazy, and ward off nightmares with insanity. Some pirates we are, scared of our own shadows."
>"what the fuck does any of that mean?" >"got any book recommendations?" >peak at the Navigator's logbooks >return to the deck