Chapter/Part/Section/Regional "HEADQUARTERS"

The Following is an extract from the W.O.M.B.A.T. codefile "Butterfingers", the psychic extracts taken from Floyd Gecko #6378 before the GeckoClone was "retired". It is a memory-tap of the events which led to the unit's conviction of Contact with The Easter Bunny, and Pod Contagion.

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"I never expected anything like this. I mean, there I was, poking around in the dusty back regions of a used bookstore, right? I figure, I'll hunt around for something cool, some information I can borrow to confuse the MOOists even more. That's pretty normal for me, I look for things. Things to make us stop.
We're a pretty hard lot to stop, no matter HOW hard I try. Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, I was looking for gummy reading material, and then suddenly reality goes soft on me, and when I pull out this one book, the entire bookshelf spins around and plops me in this sort of anteroom thingy. Which I figure is kinda strange, since the other side of that bookshelf SHOULD have been the inside of the same bookstore.
You would think. But no, reality doesn't work that way.
At least, whatever it is that the Mind Control Satelites allow me to see of reality. I dunno about the real thing. If this WAS the real thing, though, it was pretty damn strange. Instead of another shelf of books, there was this sort of yellowish-green colour of curtain: thick velvet yellowish-green curtain, and a kind of yellowish-green linoleum that was kind of peeling at the edges and looked like someone had spilled something like spaghetti sauce on it, and it had stained before anyone had bothered to wash it. The walls of the room, except for the one entirely covered by this Yellowish-Green Thick Velvet Curtain, was all aluminum siding, with peeling paint in the same sort of sickly colour as the rest of the room.
Why anyone would do an INTERIOR in aluminum siding is beyond me. Maybe the weather around there was weird or something, but the ceiling looked sturdy enough. It was pink, actually. Pink drywall type stuff. You know, the ceiling tiles with holes in them, spaced pseudorandomly?
I figured, probably above the ceiling would be pink fiberglass insulation, right?
Well, I never found out, because at the time, I wasn't really thinking about interior decoration, and the problems of insulating logically nonexistent rooms. If I'd known then what I know now, I probably would have checked.
Pink Fiberglass Insulation. Remember that. I hope it becomes important for you, because it never had a chance to become important to me.
The way I see it, there's something important that lies at the heart of Pink Fiberglass Insulation. I mean, it's Pink, the antithesis of "BoB", and yet it keeps our houses warm. Way I see it, this is a message from the gods which tells us of the coldness of "BoB"'s heart. Dobbs himself is the Greyface... His grin itself gives it away. Also the Pink Fiberglass Insulation.
Anyway, I pushed aside the yellowish-green thick velvet curtain, and walked through into this sort of rusty red type hallway, which was all done out in this really cheezy sort of wall- to-wall carpeting in rust-colour, but the pile was so thin that it had worn through, and you could see the underlayer and the padding, and occasionally right through to the baseboards, which were a sort of dark pine stained rusty red. The walls were all corrugated iron sheeting which was actually MADE of rusty iron, which sort of enhanced the feel. The ceiling was orange, though.
I've never seen Orange Fiberglass Insulation. I'm still trying to figure that out.
I turned around, but the curtain I'd brushed aside was gone. Odd, that. In its place was a door, which I tried to go back through to find my way back where I'd come from, but pushing my way through the door plopped me straight into the Mauve Room.
The Mauve Room!
I mean, everyone knows about the Mauve Room! They say it's fictional, and then they say it's real. It's certainly inside MOO HQ somewhere in Ottawa, but nobody's allowed to reveal just where it is. Or, for that matter, WHETHER it is.
Now I'm just a Gecklone, right? I don't signify for nothin', so I get to wondering why a BACKUP of the High Preest is allowed to be here, when the HPM guy himself AIN'T EVEN ALLOWED TO KNOW IF IT EXISTS OR NOT!
At least, I assume he doesn't, because I'm a pretty good copy, and you'd think I'd know about these things. I even remember making some of this stuff up about the Mauve Room. So I figure at first I'm dreaming.
Only, it's not like that. In the Mauve Room, everything seems so clear, even if it IS Mauve. Everything that enters the room becomes Mauve, which I think has something to do with the effects of a huge Quantum Processor on light reception in the retina or somethng.
A HUGE Quantum Processor. The W.O.M.B.A.T. CORE, man! The CORE! Like, there in the room.
It was like... Well, if you've ever seen a tornado... Imagine the eye of the tornado. Now take the tornado away. There's this sort of dead calm spot in space that everything seems to revolve around, only not really because the tornado is just a kind of background thing.
It's this kind of nothingness that you really gotta admire, because it's just perfectly BLANK. I mean, you can even SEE it, it's that blank. Other nothingness is kinda crowded, but this, well, even though it had atoms and air and dust and things in it, the vacuum that filled up the gaps was a kind of smoother, clearer, more INTELLIGENT vacuum.
Of course, this might have been my imagination. Everything seemed to stand on edge in the Mauve Room. Background and foreground were all the same shade of Mauve, but they stood out better from each other there than they do here. It might just have been my heightened awareness.
Eventually, I passed out, I think from an excess of oxygen, I was breathing so deeply.
I woke up in a Taco-Bell, and ordered a chimichanga.
Way I figure it, Chimichangas are pretty good food, and for a guy like me, who's just seen something most people only imagine, ya gotta put food in your system."
And so it is that the Gecklone came to see the Mauve Room, and feel its power, and not see anything special that might have helped, and yet came to the correct conclusion all by himself. So W.O.M.B.A.T. says that the wisdom is in all of us, and need not be imposed from without. So go ye and eat a Chimichanga.