"Nothing is going back to normal."
— Mars, Nebula
"Things change. The cylinder spins. Some stamps get cancelled. We're going to do things differently. There's a time to contemplate, to model actions... there's a time to MAKE action! We're going to rip the wings off butterflies! We're going to flap our own hurricanes! The dark days are gonna be the swingingest whangdoodle of a blow. Let's be mad flappers, you and I! Grab your glad rags! Let's get loaded and jive! [laughs maniacally, then sighs] The Fool's prerogative. We taint our honour with irreverence, because doing the impossible is a rudeness to reality, because respect will get this planet dead. And so we cleave to the sacred obscenities. [chuckles] It's our turn. The barrel puckers. The cylinder spins..."
— Daimon Kiyota, The Secret World
The other Conventions talk up how much they lost when the Dimensional Anomaly hit. Try being out in the Void when that happened. Those who made it out tell strange stories: of watching comrades ripped apart as though with invisible claws, hulls melting like crayons on a stove, micro-singularities causing people to collapse in on themselves, marines falling over as though dead but hearts still beating - and those are the saner stories.
We lost good people. We lost ships. We lost constructs, notably the Copernicus Research Center, the very symbol of our pride and dominion over the void. But we lost something more: we lost space. Much of the work we put into formatting Conventional Space was undone. The Void became much like the stories you'd find in the Celestial Masters' archives.
It took months to settle on the death toll. By mid-2000, we were less than half the number we were before the damned Anomaly. And that's just the beginning...
—Mage: The Ascension - Convention Book: Void Engineers (revised)
My eye caught a photo tacked to the cork board over my father's worktable. It was a snapshot of me and Dad, taken by Mom on a sundrenched day several years ago.
Suddenly, reality hit.
The kid in that photo had prepared his last frozen pizza dinner. Had gone to his last math class. Had seen his last movie at the Cineplex. That kid would never even hang out in his own backyard again. Because this wasn't his home anymore. He had no home. He'd made the necessary sacrifice.
—Marco, Animorphs #45: The Revelation