"…no. Just because the Dark Chaos Gods as described in the published 'Warhammer' setting, which may or may not be based on an extant world or worldtypes, are terrible, does not mean that chaos is. Plenty of chaotic entities are wonderful people, and telling the chaos-inclined that evil is their only option does massive harm."

"Not your Chaos.  Your Chaos is fine and I think I'd probably scan Chaotic.  That Chaos?  Impossible to cooperate with on a utilitarian level."

"Understood, though I will reiterate that while it might be that if you were quintessence-producing it'd be somewhat Chaotic, as it is you'd scan 'inanimate object'."

She snerks.

"You're not the only Detect Alignment source somewhere in this bar, I'm sure."

"I guess there could be one that works on non-quintessence-emissive brainsouls, but the amount of information handling it'd have to do would be … a lot."

"You assume that magic gives a damn about what we puny mortals know of quanta.

"It's not actually obligated to."

"I'm not sure I quite follow. There are some cases where the chaos magic I'm familiar with appears to violate the laws of information, notably in the case of Truespeech, though I'd guess that what Bar in particular is doing takes some advantage of her truly massive body of texts. I suppose other systems could work differently, though that amount of telepathy and data processing is concerning. I for one hope to not run into it here."

"Magic is - not obligated to process literally any data; it can just be a Declarative Statement.  It's...

"Magic can just be rules.

"Hell, Milliways makes a pretty decent example of Region Properties, to leap to an entirely different story-first system of doing world and character creation and management.

"In Milliways Bar...," she pronounces an info-card,

"...the atmosphere's hospitable

...everybody speaks your language

...the first drink is free

...you can buy and sell goods at your local prices

...you shouldn't do arbitrage unless you're desperate

...the exit door leads back where and when it was opened

...something exciting will happen eventually."

"I don't know what sense of 'can' you're using here. All of those properties of Milliways that I've examined enough are made of things. I don't speak basically any English, there's just a translation effect! Bar puts a lot of work into atmosphere compatibility and is going to courteously ensure that not only is the gas mix here safe for you to breathe, you don't end up with inert-for-you Air suddenly disappearing from your lungs when you go home and causing pressure issues! I can't examine the landlords, sure, but I also can't examine a lot of things, that doesn't mean they're necessarily fundamental."

Griffie pauses a moment.

"I suppose even if you got me records from Milliways claiming to be nonfictional records and advocating for the falsehood of reductionism in their source worlds I wouldn't easily trust those, it's an easy topic to just be wrong about, so this is plausibly a pointless argument we shouldn't have. My apologies."

"There are worlds out there where prosaic reality is a lie, on top of another, bigger Lie if you believe the Deceivers.

"Which you probably oughtn't, since they can't see Ninuan as a Strategist would, even if they can view the Mythic reality behind my poor benighted home-planet lookalike's façade.

"But on those Earths, on those iterations of the World Ash, it's the case that nothing isn't a product of conceptual magic via Imperators' Estates, the Nobles chosen to embody and defend them, and many other things besides.  Strategists' Arcana, that act as they do because that's what they λ-are," she pronounces with a glottal stop, "what they are-but-Aren't, Deceivers' pseudo-Estates built of some seeming True Thing that yet isn't, the insoluble problem that makes a Warmain take and test Creation to its breaking point...

"I could go on about the worldbuilding of Nobilis-et-al.."

"This doesn't feel productive?"

"Yeah, it isn't, but it's really neat worldbuilding and I felt like being dramatic," she admits sheepishly.

"Where were we?"

"You taught me math, I paid you, we discussed the nature of reality, had some arguments that didn't go incredibly constructively, and … I think we're hitting the part where I suggest that we both go to sleep and you meet me at work or ask Bar to message me whenever you're awake, if you want to talk more."

"Sure, if you're done for now."

She starts humming Roundabout.

"Yup. See you when I see you, which is hopefully tomorrow for you."

Griffie heads for the stairs.

She...eventually wanders off, if nothing else happens.

Actually, something does happen, in that a bunch of human kids head in, dressed like Americans at around Jane's tech level. They look kind of panicky but not injured, and they seem confused.

Jane can probably hear bits of an argument.

"–not supposed to be in a bar!"
"It's not as though–"
"Clarinda has a second power?"
"Look, we need to get–"

Well, shit, she'd better do something about that before Kids Book Chaos Ensues.  "Hey, hey there, welcome to Milliways, everyone; I know you have no reason to believe a word I'm saying but it's safe here, Milliways isn't like wherever you were; it's not even on the same planet - it might not even be on a planet; I haven't asked Bar yet.  C'mon, take a breath, take a seat, have a drink - the first one's straight-up free; Bar does really good milkshakes for pretty cheap.  What should we call you?"

"My parents told me not to–"
"Super Campers!"
"That idea stinks, that's what–"

This is the point at which one of the oldest-looking kids in the group yells "Quiet!", which creates a pause long enough for her to continue more quietly. "We are not a sports team! She probably just wants to know our names. I'll go first, I'm River."

The remaining group looks a bit sheepish at that, though they're still not sitting down. "Abby." "Ibrahim." "Ricky." "Eliza." "Clarinda."

"Thank you, River.  It's nice to meet you all.  You can call me Jane.  This is Bar; Bar's magic."  She pats Bar demonstratively.  "If you would be so kind as to do the thing, Bar?"

A napkin appears on Bar's surface. The napkin is unfolded and shows in large letters "Welcome to Milliways! Yes, you are allowed to be here even though I'm a bar."

The kids don't look as startled as Jane would have been in her youth, but do look pretty startled.

After talking among themselves a bit, River turns to Jane again. "Nice to meet you, Jane. I guess this really is a magic bar. Do you, uh, either of you have a telephone?"

"I do, though I'm not sure mine will work; who knows what the weird powers might've butterflied in networking standards.

"Still, I'll try, if it can help you any.  Who do you want to call?  And if you're comfortable discussing that with me, why do you want to call them?  It sounded like you might be in a bit of a pickle, when you came in here, and I have a chronic meddlesome streak, which means that if there is trouble afoot, I want to help out, if I can."

"We want to call the police. Calabra Pharmaceuticals is pretending to run a summer camp program–"

"They are running a bunch of summer camp programs!"