Search Results for 'anne'

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  • #3425
    Jib
    Participant

      “I’m here to make this all business profitable for the investors”, said Anna Purrna to the Queens when they complained about her manners. “They find you are too sloppy and too young to manage such a venture”, she was punctuating each sentence with her cane. It was an understatement to say that she was not very pleasant to look at.
      “We were managing very well without interference from the Network, until now. And we were having fun”, said Cedric. “Now it seems that all the fun has been taken away”, he added on an impulse. He had been the one designated by his peers to be their voice. The two other Queens were nodding just behind in the shadow.

      “Oh! You want fun ?”
      The three young boys nodded in unison, encouraged by the sweet tone of her voice.
      “I’ll give you fun! This is the Cane of Byrna. You know Zelda ? Oh! Maybe you are too young. It’s a video game from when you were not even spermatozoons and eggs. Anyway, adding to its magical powers, it can be used for music”, the dwarf showed her plain metallic cane, a big smile on her crooked face. “57 Push-ups ! Each of you.”
      “One! (Bam) Two! (Bam)… And sing with me : BUSINESS IS NOT FOR FUN, BUSINESS IS TO MAKE MONEY !
      Whenever one of the boys were to miss a push-up, they would receive each a blow on the back with the rod.

      #3419

      “There!”

      The base of the beanstalk was deeply rooted into the murky waters of the bog, and so big and entangled that it seemed like a wall to the little raft carrying Irina, Greenie and Mr R, which was also acting as a propeller engine. And the parrot Huhu seemed to have tagged along, although he would sometimes pop in and out of reality without notice.

      Thanks to Greenie’s input, they had been able to lift part of the fog, and it seemed the more they looked at the great plant, the more believable and real it became.

      “Madam, if I may, I would advise against climbing that plant; it seems deeply infested by some insects. Extrapolating the size of it by the size of its base, I computed we need probably a few days of climbing and we stand less than 0.9% chance making it to the top without it completely crumbling down.”
      “By Jove, don’t they have elevators invented yet?”

      Mr R was about to make some helpful comment when they heard the big splash.

      A big mouldy thing was struggling on the waters not far from them. After checking it wasn’t one of those dangerous tiger slugs they’d encountered earlier, Irina had Mr R manoeuvre the raft closer to the person in distress.

      “Stop fighting! You’re scratching me, my hair! My face!”

      After hauling the thing over the raft, it became obvious it was not some wild animal, although one part of it was. A mean wet black cat with its claws deep in the other’s hair. The other was a woman, of indiscernible age.

      Mandrake, that’s enough! You get down there!” she said to the cat. Then turning to the others “Apologies, I forgot my manners. My name is Arona, thank you for rescuing us, the terrain was less… dry and mossy than I expected.”

      Before Irina had time to present herself and the others, a voice overhead and wings flapping sounds started to speak “You should have waited for me, sweet darling muppet Arona!”

      “I guess, that is a bit too late for a sassy code name now…” a wet Mandrake snickered vindictively.

      #3401

      The tunnel went on forever, forcing them to duck frequently and wriggle around in exiguous places. To make it worse, it wasn’t even fresh under, and the heat carried on as they went further inside. At times, Arona started to have anxiety flashes, as she was reminded of the labyrinthine tunnels of the dragons of old.

      To give herself more heart, she put her efforts in continuing exchanging niceties and other manners of rude elaborate insults with the stranger, who surprisingly was a match to boot.

      “Stop glumping, we’re almost there” he said to her, showing a final passage on a narrow ledge above crystal clear waters.

      She was too exhausted to retort something witty, but took a mental note that he deserved one more of what she had.

      When they emerged, the sun was almost set. The tunnel came out right at the rim of the floating land, and a tight network of ropeways were stretched under the tangled tentacles of the giant beanstalk, which kept the whole city and its neighbourhood afloat. More gymnastics in perspective she thought, but she was prepared for that.

      “Don’t go too close, you’ll fall to your doom…” It was the first time the stranger’s voice hinted at some fear.

      Arona smiled as elegantly as she could, despite being out of breath and red as a purpato. Lifting a limp Mandrake from the ground, she suddenly unwrapped her heavy cloak and lunged into the void below, the wind blowing in her strange mouldy wings.

      “Follow me if you dare!” she shouted to the stranger, while struggling to navigate the downward spiral like an oversized flying squirrel.

      #3400

      If the sabulmantium was to be trusted, the beanstalk was a tangle of many paths, and the main and easiest accesses down its dangling twirly greenish tentacles were all outside of the city walls, in a zone where some lords managed to rule pockets of mass beliefs and a bunch of unattractive mongrel mobsters.

      “Sounds potential adventure material” Mandrake had had the nerve to say when they’d packed.
      “No it isn’t” Arona had said.
      Then with more gusto “NO IT ISN’T” as though to convince all the sleepy tarts of the nymphouse below her rented room.

      More doubts had sunken their claws in her tender heart, and a gulp of whatever astral cup didn’t seem in hindsight a worthy deal for all her troubles. Nonetheless, she was a woman of her word, which was probably why she wasn’t of many. Too much trouble being of all of them, whatever that meant.

      “Honestly Mandrake, keeping you on track is worse than herding… dragons.”
      She would have said sheep, but she wasn’t so rude yet. Mandrake could have taken that too badly, and he would again prove useful to distract the guards of the Southern Post. That’s where she decided to go, as with all the heat, it had to be the one less guarded.

      Indeed, when she arrived, as planned, the gate was badly manned, and sleepy soldiers where reaching for the rare spots of shadow.
      She decided to make a run for it. The soldiers didn’t look very fit. She started to go, thinking about zigzagging between the air bottles littering the plaza, when she felt a tug pulling her back by the cloak, almost sending her flying off her butt.

      FUCK!” she shouted as silently as she could. “You again! I thought I told you not to follow me! Mandrake, attack! Go for the balls!”

      She was in a fury, but Mandrake licked his paw with a disgusted look on his face that meant “Hnhn, not going for that, sweetie. You’re on you own to herd that dragon, my lovely pooh.”

      “Shhht!” the guy said with a bit smile.
      “Don’t shush me, you… ninnyhammer!”
      She didn’t know where the last word came from, but they sure felt good, although not quite rude enough.
      “Oh, the lady is a pirate who knows her insults.” he answered with his cocky smile.
      “Don’t mock me, you mooncalf”
      “You were trying to sneak out, were you?”
      “Why do you care, hobbledehoy?”
      “The guards have aircon chain-mail and armours, see, look at those bottles on their backs… How could you beat them running with your heavy cloak?”
      “Maybe Mr Snollygoster has a better suggestion?”
      “Of course I have, if you care to follow me, Ms Mumpsimus.”

      Arona was almost speechless. Not keen on following any stranger, she asked her guts, and they seemed to have a liking for the handsome fellow. It stirred old remembrance of going with the flow tactics, and when she did actually follow him, it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he and Mandrake were already ahead in one of the alleys.

      “Oh, no, let him have the keys to some secret tunnel, I won’t go for another sewer escape!”
      As if her guardien angel has heard her secret prayer, it happened that the stranger had some strange stone key in his bag, opening a secret wall entrance.

      “Oh.” was all she conceded to the stranger.
      Nonplussed he offered her his hand “George” he presented himself still with the same broad smile.
      She took his hand haughtily, and entered the vaulted tunnel, not telling him yet her name, in case she felt like choosing a sexy and mysterious code name. She could trust no one…

      “Traitor” she hissed at Mandrake who was purringly looking at the strangers’ boots.

      #3383

      Lisa was lost in thought during the hours that they spent in the waiting room of the Processing Department. Among the many things she pondered was the nature of their beliefs that had landed them in this situation, the energy they were projecting, and the ramifications of the reflection. She was intrigued with the letter that Sanso had read out to them upon their arrival ~ underground cities had long been a particular fascination. What had been the circumstances leading to so many ancient underground cities being constructed? Nobody knew for sure, but it seemed to Lisa that they had been a means of escaping the surface. But why? Was it because of climate catastrophe, or some other disaster rendering the surface dangerous or inhospitable? Or had it been situations of siege, or hostile populations on the surface? Or had it been merely a curiosity to explore living in a different environment? An idea suddenly occurred to Lisa that she had been judging life on the surface of the planet as the ideal right way to live, the most preferable option, and life below ground as a second rate choice for survival purposes, but perhaps there were unimagined benefits to living below the ground.

      Lisa’s meandering thoughts led her back to the summer of 2014, when the seige situation in Gaza had exploded as the population of the shifting world addressed restriction and shielding energy, creating an amplified imagery at one of the main coordination points. Interconnection was coming on strong, like never before, and individuals the world over, struggling with their own self imposed boundaries, sought for release en masse and joined together to support and encourage each other.

      It had been an exhilarating time, but also a frustrating one. Interpretations of the words and messages of perceived authorities became mass beliefs, and for a time the restrictions increased. Those adhering to traditional authorities repeated the party lines, and the so called “new agers”, rooting for change but at the same time terrified of it, and in no small measure, terrified of other people and different cultures, created new mass beliefs based on their old fears. The strongest new age belief was a translation of channeled advice, construed from the vague “focus on the positive” to mean “ignore anything you can’t bear to acknowledge”. Rather than accept differences, initially masses of well meaning individuals criticized anyone endeavouring to acknowledge and accept the global situation, and pushed their advice to ignore the horrors, for fear that they would unwillingly bring anything unpleasant to their own attention. It was ironic to Lisa that the ones advocating not to judge, were the ones that judged her the most for her actions, and the activists judged her far less, while not advocating less judgement at all.

      #3353

      “Shall I call you Fanny instead then, dear? It seems to be stuck in my head now to call you Fanella (which I do think sounds much nicer actually) but I think I can manage to remember Fanny,” suggested Lisa.
      “Call me what you like, I won’t be here much longer” replied Fanella under her breath.
      “What was that you said?”
      “Coffee, Lisa, would you like a refill?”
      Lisa’s reply was interrupted by an exclamation from Sanso, and they both turned their attention to him.
      “Here it is!” he was saying. “Look! The island!” He pointed to an area of map collage on the mannequins left buttock, and stroked it gently while explaining. “It’s named Abalone ~ by some of its inhabitants, not by everyone, but more on that later. The fascinating thing about it is it’s mysterious properties ~ and I don’t mean real estate, although there are some VERY peculiar properties on the island! But properties that allow it to appear on the Earth only at certain times and places.”
      “Times such as 2121?” asked Fanella.
      “Yes indeed, and also times such as years 111, 222, 333 ~ in fact any number that has a particular significance really, it’s a very loose arrangement really, you know what some people are like about numbers, make up all kinds of nonsense about special numbers, but it serves a purpose as a sort of guideline, I suppose.”
      “You don’t need to tell me all that, Sanso. I’ve already read the book.”
      “Circle of Eights and Other Stories? Ahahahaha! But the stories in that book are forever changing, Lisa. You may have read the book but every time you read it, it’s different. You don’t know everything there is to know about that island just because you read one version of the book at one time!”
      “I didn’t say I knew EVERY thing, SansoLisa replied huffily.
      “That’s where we’re going next” Fanella interjected. “Sanso is taking me.”
      “Really? How exciting!” Lisa’s eyes lit up. “What a trip! I’ve been thinking about a holiday ever since we got back from Portugal. Hey, can I come too?”
      Sanso stole a glance at Fanella, who shrugged helplessly. He winked at her and whispered “trust me”.
      To Lisa he said “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. Is there anyone you’d like to bring with you?”
      “Why yes, there is, how funny you should ask. I’ll ask Mirabelle if she wants to come.”
      Fanella rolled her eyes.

      #3351

      Drawn magnetically towards the mannequin stretched out on Lisas’s kitchen table, Sanso forgot all about coffee ~ or indeed polite small talk. As Lisa prattled on, disjointed snippets interspersed with snorts and raucous laughter, Sanso inspected the map covered body before him, and the sea of torn maps underfoot. He circled the table, examining the body and scattered detritus from all angles and perspectives, his mind firing (and sending sparks to relevant departments) at all the connecting routes that caught his attention of particular or potential interest to the current thread of events.

      #3346
      ÉricÉric
      Keymaster

        Some update on the current plots and maps:

        Queens Team

        Our main protagonists seem to have yet to digest their past adventure…

        In Marseille, 2121, contestants in a Drag Queen’s contest, they had their first mission through Time Sewer mysteriously sending them in Louis XV’s Versailles, and start a quest for mysterious ferrets with keys, helped in their travelling by their ex-judge turned chaperon Sadie, equipped with an all purpose e-zapper, and the batty Sanso always keen on providing the strangest travelling devices.

        They find one of the keys in the stolen ferret left in the Chapel before they even really start on their quest. Not long after that, they are also robbed of their dance opportunity and show minutes before the attempt on the King’s life, due to the network cancelling their show (and decommissioning the Time Sewer). In a last ditch attempt from Linda Pol to provide the network with a valuable pilot material for the television show, she remembers references of a crystal (sent to her anonymously), and have the Queens propelled in year 2222, Big Island, Hawaii. On arrival, they chill and get sidetracked on a visit to a (you guessed it, mysterious) techromancer.

        It all appears to be part of the plan to gain life-everlasting by transmuting gold of a (yes, mysterious) cranky old billionaire in kilts named Jonbert who is living in a time-travelling submarine with sentient robots, and who has manipulated events so that the Drag Queen show would place them in possession of a special set of keys that he could then retrieve from them.
        Unsurprisingly, nothing works for him as planned.

        Unknown to him, the Queens had only secured one of the keys, the other being unwittingly carried away by maids of Versailles during their balloon escape, with a parrot named Huhu. Manipulated by Irina, a… err… mysterious Russian socialite with a trusty robot Mr R at her side, the parrot steals the key, but faints of exhaustion during the escape in the ocean. The parrot is however rescued by on a ghost galleon and revived by its occupants, who are on their way to a particularly momentous whale gathering in 2222. Sidetracked by a navigation tile displacement, they are in the end successful in beating the odds and arrive too in Hawaii 2222.

        Equipped in breathing wetsuits, the Queens are sent in the depths of the ocean, where their clumsy and noisy explorations are carefully followed by the octopi and other inhabitants of the underwater world.
        They get sidetracked and temporarily separated when some go exploring underwater caves.
        Whales are gathering, and activating the giant crystal, when everyone arrives at the scene. Somehow, Mr R on Irina’s orders manages to provide to an unsuspecting Sadie the second key, which has been expertly tempered with.
        Sadie, realizing this is the missing key, activates it, and unleashes a chain of events leading to a earth-shattering revelations and a breathtaking video of a St Germain hologram doing karaoke with whales and other gyrating cetaceans drunk on red algae.

        The network is saved, and they are safely sent back to Marseille, where they are welcomed back by Linda Pol. It earns them a contract, which turns out to be mostly for the decommissioned Time Sewer maintenance.
        They plan to turn it into a bar, in a re-enactment of their minute of fame, with fat pole-dancers as whales, and St-Germain impersonators singing contests.
        Not much is heard from Sadie, who had managed to get a raise and less working hours, or of Linda Pol, last seen in Maui island, Hawaii, 2121.

        #3336

        “Who the fuck stuck all these disgusting patches all over me?” Lisa shouted when she noticed them, and thus promptly forgot her dream. “Why have you gone so red in the face, Jack?”
        In an attempt to deflect the attention from himself, he countered: “Why were you standing on the table?”
        Lisa rose to the bait and replied that she was assessing the possibility of hanging the new map mannequin, the one that wouldn’t stand up on her own, from the beams on the kitchen ceiling.
        “I feel inspired to continue the map collage, now that I have an idea for where to put her when she’s finished.”
        Jack yawned, somewhat rudely.
        Lisa angrily pulled another patch off her left buttock. “You better be wondering what’s in your dinner later, Jack.” she said ominously.

        #3328

        Their new found green protegee finally awoke thanks to Mr R. meticulous care.
        They tried to talk but to Irina’s dismay got no reaction at all. After a few hours, the greenie, as she was calling the creature, was following Irina everywhere. Which could be quite irritating when she needed intimacy.

        “Have you scanned its brain, Mr R. ?” asked Irina. “It doesn’t seem quite normal.”
        “I’ve been monitoring her vitals ever since we found her. She’s in perfect health, but it appears that hearing us talk does not trigger the usual areas in her brain.”
        “Are you sure it’s a her ?” asked Irina dubiously, “She doesn’t have boobs”.
        “She’s a younger model, madam. It appears she was quite young when she was mummified, Probably around the age of ten to twelve. Young human female usually develop bosom after puberty.”
        “I know that”, she snapped. “I just don’t remember myself without boobs.”
        Mr R. searched in his databank for some smart reply, but he preferred not to offer her one of the latest memory treatment.

        #3326

        “Mind joining me on an adventure?” Sanso said while continuing to walk at a rapid pace on the trail in the middle of running people carrying buckets of water, as though he knew exactly were he was going. “Of course not” he took no time to wait for an answer, as clearly the young lady was way over her head in her first attempt to teleport.

        “I should be called the Sanso Bernar of Teleporting Mishaps, you know, it’s like I have this seventh sense to precisely arrive where stranded teleporters need me… that and lost socks, but that’s an entire different story, although I could recall quite many times where both had me landing on dirty launderettes…”

        He paused to look at the panting Fanella. “But you don’t get a word of what I’m saying do you?”
        She shrugged timidly, batting her doe eyes in a seductive manner, as she had learnt to do at the Versailles Palace when caught her hand in the honeypot, so to speak.

        “Oh, never mind.” He went on. “Well,… ugh, burp, excuse me, this sea cucumber isn’t sitting well me…”
        Fanella signaled she needed a moment to catch her breath too, and sat on a flat rock, covering her legs with her arms, suddenly self-conscious of her modesty.
        “What was i saying already? Oh, yes, I have to deliver a message to a sea cucumber, sorry, I mean a lady cucumber, who may be in grave danger of death… possi—blurp— by sea cucumber indigestion.”

        He looked at her from head to toes: “Well, you look reasonably pliable… That trick should work. I suppose you don’t have any wax, clay, salt dough or… well never mind, I have… just what I need here…”

        All the while babbling on, he started to unfold a large piece of patchwork, which was somehow folded in his satchel.

        “The map dancer, you see… well, he’s a bit of a pain in the butt to find. But here, hold that for a moment. With that bit of,… there, put your finger there, no, not here, yes, riiight there… with a bit of patience, and… tada!”

        Fanella looked puzzled at the cloth now wrapped around them, snug and tight.

        “Oh well, I know, the resemblance is passable, but that will do. Believe it or not, I have done a lot of sewing in the past, patchwork quilts, miniature needlepoint rugs for doll houses, curtains, upholstery… Oh sweet times. It’s been a while I’ve had to travel via rag doll. A bit rough, but leaves little trace to follow.”

        Fanella broke her silence “are you making it along as you go, or you really have a plan to get us out of this awful middle age place?”

        Sanso tittered softly, apparently pleased with himself.

        “Now, you may want to relax, the trick is in letting go and drifting through Time’s flow.”

        #3309
        Jib
        Participant

          The boy was giving her a tour of the grounds in a monotonous voice.

          “The hotel is actually divided in several pavilions, each representing a culture of the world and designated by a special name. The 888 pavilion was built according to the principles of Feng Shui in order to bring health and prosperity to the clients.”

          And certainly money to the hotel, thought Linda Pol.

          “The water spring represents the flow of energy. It is made in such a way that customers can hear a peaceful gurgle of water when they enter the building. It helps regulate the emotions and bring stability in life.”

          Linda Pol couldn’t help but notice that it was also skillfully made so that the water was always returning towards the building. A sudden roar startled her. She was so engrossed in her Asian prejudices that she hadn’t seen the lions.

          The boy, who had certainly planned that, recited his reassuring script to rich customers.
          “These lions, one male and one female, are held in an invisible electro-magnetic cell, they can’t escape or harm you in any way. They are from the Asian species.”

          “You mean they are real ?” At first she had thought they were carefully made robots, holograms wouldn’t have done the trick in direct sunlight. But real lions ?
          “Don’t tell me”, she continued, “they are here to shoo away the ill-intentioned.” For a moment, she had the impression that the eyes of the boy had shifted to an Asian breed.

          “Madame knows her Feng Shui”, said the boy with a fake smile.

          Could he be a robot ? What the fuck, all her vanity wasted to a robot ? Where has gone that gorgeous boy who brought her the message ?
          You’re paranoid, ma fille, said her mother’s voice.

          #3300

          “You have such arousing arms, Mirabelle” said Lisa, tipsy from the summer cocktails.
          Mirabelle didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or bat her eyelashes. “Fancy a holiday? Just the two of us, somewhere exotic, or perhaps on an island somewhere? I’ve always fancied Corsica, or perhaps a rocky isle off the Amalfi coast.”
          “I don’t know what to say” Mirabelle replied. She wasn’t sure what Lisa had planned for her arms.

          #3281

          “Isn’t that the greatest thing about those underwater goggles”
          After the shark threat had vanished, Sadie had contemplated for quite some time her new-found underwater abilities, and how to shift the weight of her body gracefully underwater. And then, she realized she could roll her eyes in the most peculiar way, with the membrane of the transparent skin massaging her eyeballs in the most relaxing manner. She’d never felt so good about rolling her eyes, and that was saying something.

          “BrllllSssadiieeee” came the urging sound in bubbles and gurgles, with a hint of despair dragging her out of the lovely eyeball massage session. The underwater acoustics needed some fine-tuning, so she had her wits to thank for understanding quickly the situation.
          Despite what might have looked like her sending messages on her ezapper, at the same time she was having in-her-body experiences, she was merely testing experimental echo-localization to pinpoint the spot where the pod of whales would be most likely found. The feedback buzzing had prompted her minutes ago that it had found 6 potential spots, and one only which was the most probable and located less than an hour’s diving distance. One thing she knew was that you had to be careful with automatic location instructions, so she’d run a second independent check and was waiting for the results when the alarmed look of Maurana turned and rolled in front of her face, almost giving her a fright.

          “Gbbbllood gracious, Maurana, what’s the matter?”
          “Gbblbl wooohoooglllbb bbbllrsfffftt plk plk plk skwooobbll!”

          “Oh, for fucks sake,” she telepathied “will you stop nattering in French, be more articulate.”
          “The others are drowned and I no longer see them, it’s awful, what should we do?!” the thought came back with force and a bit of campiness.

          “Well, that would depend what it is you want” straight answers were not Sadie’s forte.
          “I want to have our party with costumes and dances, I want to be the black pearl of the Ocean, I want to have more glitter and less molluscs, more chic and less kelp…” she started to sob profusely, half-choking and breathing from her tears. “I want my friends, and to be back hooooome”
          “Bloody hell, Reggie, now is not the time to lose your shit, pull yourself together dammit.”

          The reaction was immediate, the telepathic swearing was so out-of-the-ordinary that Maurana looked twice at Sadie, with her bob cut surrounding her face like a heavenly halo. Suddenly self-conscious, Maurana started to reapply some waterproof mascara to cover the stains.

          “I found them,” said Sadie with infectious calm “the ezapper’s first scan took them for a pod of whales or octopi for some reason. Let’s go get them, then we go visit the whales. But first, you have to try this, it will soothe you…”, as she started to show some more rolling motion of her beautiful blue eyes.

          #3269

          Gliding through layers of consciousness, Belen carried her precious cargo of the Santa Maria and its birds towards her destination.
          There were various variations of the same 2222, and she carefully adjusted the course along the 202 years gap, so as to swim to her favourite version of it. It required much love work on her part, addressing, piecing and peacing off many parts of human consciousness, while at the same time tenderly caring for the memories stored with her immense ghost body.
          The 2020 version they had just left, she knew, was already on the proper track towards global enlightenment. There were still horrors, concerns and anxiety about the course of the future, but with a greater perspective, it looked like the positive actions were gaining momentum and leaning towards a brighter fuller and richer future.

          She could feel the Contact Crystal pulsate steadily and it opened her blowhole chakra. Blowing her mind, as it were.

          The Big Island was like a beacon, with the flows of lava rippling heatwave signatures in the ocean, and it didn’t take long to enter the stream that would lead them to the pod and the meeting point.

          As she sensed they’d arrived in 2222, and that they were floating on the surface of a calm ocean, she gently opened the energy bubble sealing the ghost and alive cargo of birds and vegetation, so they could breathe in the pure air and enjoy discovering around.

          Belen, look at you, not a ounce more of blubber since we last met! You ought to tell me how you keep so fit”
          “Batshatsassani!” Belen was pleased the see the great female orca who’d come to greet her.
          “Still with your entourage, it seems” her friend said without a hint of malice, blowing a few rings of bubbles around in a relaxed manner. “Let me accompany you to the ceremony.”
          “With great pleasure, dear. Rest assured, I won’t carry my entourage along for the time of the ceremony.”
          “It would have been cumbersome, no?” Oftentimes humour (and irony in particular) were a lost subtlety on the orca’s mind. Belen just smiled to answer, revealing a great range of ghostwhite perfect baleens.

          As they swam their way along the beautiful clear ocean, they were greeted by a pod of joyously rambunctious great dolphins, a good half size bigger than their common dolphins cousins she’d seen swimming near the coasts of Portugal. The leader of the pod was doing acrobatics to retrieve and play with a funny scarf made of colorful feathers. It was no surprise the dolphins were playing games, really. That or chasing food took the best of their time. But the scarf was the strangest thing Belen had seen in a long time and it triggered some kind of forgotten memory. Odd thing for her to not remember a memory, unless it was from another probable dimension… She followed the urge to ask.

          “Were did they get that?”
          “Oh, it’s nothing important… Four strange aquatic thingies went down earlier this morning, making a whole lot of noise around. They looked like one of those aliens, but so clumsy we thought they were probably sickly and left there to die by their tribe. The ‘phins took the fancy red gills from one of them.”
          “Are you serious? Are they OK?” Belen huge heart felt panicky at the thought of the small creatures left to die without help.
          “Of course they are, I knoooow we have to keep our reputation, you know. Where they are now, I’m not too sure. But the octopi from the camouflage squad are on it, following them. According to the last I know, the aliens have been lost for awhile in the underwater caves. When they’re exhausted, we’ll send them somewhere else… Can’t attract too much attention to ourselves, with the ceremony and all…”

          #3260

          Mirabelle tapped Lisa’s arm. There was no response, and Lisa had been in a sort of trance for a full 22 minutes. “Lisa! Are we lost, or have you found some navigational information?”
          The interruption caused a bit of interference in Lisa’s remote viewing, crossing her channels somewhat. She started to speak:

          How do you calculate upon the unforeseen? It seems to be an art of recognizing the role of the unforeseen, of keeping your balance amid surprises, of collaborating with chance, of recognizing that there are some essential mysteries in the world and thereby a limit to calculation, to plan, to control.

          “That doesn’t sound all that helpful, frankly” replied Mirabelle.

          #3257

          “You look just like your father” was Lisa’s mother’s only remark when Lisa had thoughtfully sent her a couple of photos from Portugal. No compliment coming from her, thought Lisa, rolling her eyes. And it wasn’t even true ~ she looked nothing like her father, something else must have triggered her mothers comment, some other association.
          “Remember your new policy, dear, don’t take it personally” Mirabelle reminded her. “Just another cranky old crone stewing on an old trigger. Besides,” she added, “What about Frank and Molly? Can you get a more specific remote view? Stuck in a carob tree could be almost anywhere.”
          “You’re rather sweet for such a bossy tart” replied Lisa with a grateful smile. “Shush now then while I access their location.”
          Lisa closed her eyes and waited for the images to appear. There was an explosion of purple and a great deal of static before an image began to appear of carob pods on a car windscreen. As Lisa viewed the glass a strange thing began to happen and she started to focus on the reflections. There were dozens of people approaching, all wearing brilliant white robes trimmed with gold. The robes were short, and revealed a considerable amount of tanned muscled leg, and a murmur of appreciation escaped her lips. What handsome fellows, she thought, but there’s something odd about them. Either this is a fancy dress party on a dry dusty hill, or another time zone.

          #3254

          Ten meters in the aforementioned direction, after the light drizzle had stopped back to a wondrous sunny blue sky and slight freshening breeze, the robot was waiting for them.

          “Ms Merrie, I am your hosts’ robot, also at your service for the duration of your stay in 2222.”
          Maurana whispered not very subtly “and how are we supposed to call the tin can?” unaware of the sensitive remote hearing function of said tin can.
          “Monsieur can call me anything he likes, but my master usually calls me among many rude manners simply Varjis.”
          All three queens looked a bit offended
          “Did it call you Monsieur? How rude, your queen bikini was so fitting.”

          “As Ms Merrie mentioned, we will be late for the wetsuit fitting and the soirée on the coast, before our trip on the master’s submarine. If you would follow me.”

          #3246

          Jonbert’s robot had easily found the location, but it was in standby in a cafe near the techromancer’s hut, posing as a tourist in a flower shirt with a straw hat and a glass of coconut oil.

          Jonbert had received additional information about the whale network which seemed to change slightly his plans. The Ghost Whale who was supposed to preside over the rituals was apparently delayed in Time, making the retrieval of the second key problematic.
          He would have loved to rudely prompt Linda Paul to get her Queens in alignment, but for now, there was no point to that yet. He’d better leave them at their little escapade, under close surveillance from his robot.
          In all cases, they would all have to wait more in the nexus of times.
          Using his ivory carved forking long shoehorn, he scratched his itchy back. It was for him rather infuriating to be stuck, he sighed “Stuck in 2222!”. The robot bearing those news had learnt it the hard way.

          He stroked distractedly his luscious mane of red hair. At 153, thanks to regular nano-implants, Jonbert was incredibly healthy, in a very healthy and hairy manner, unlike many others he wouldn’t name.

          #3226

          With years of intense Happiness training, and being herself a certified Happiness Coach™ in Rainbow Unified Bliss®, Lisa was reasonably adept at dispelling the occasional bouts of frustration that the six time travelers were experiencing while familiarizing themselves with the new time frame. Learning the new languages, both the local Spanish and the common language of the village tribe, English, was of paramount importance, and Mirabelle in particular was having difficulties. A basic vocabulary was easy enough, but when it came to grammar, Mirabelle was hopeless. Thus her communications were of a very basic and rudimentary nature, and she often felt unable to express her feelings, or her thoughtful observations on the many nuances, similarities and differences and overlaps of the current time and 18th century France. Not only was she obliged to learn two new languages, but was also learning to read and write. Often it seemed like all work and no play, too much pressure to perform, to learn, to do well at her studies, and yet play breaks were always frustrated in some manner because of her difficulties in communicating clearly. The fact that the others were progressing better with the languages made her feel alone, adrift in a sea of her own unexpressed thoughts.
          Adeline had a more relaxed approach to the language difficulties, less inclined to struggle with it and more likely to chatter endlessly to Boris instead, and ask him to translate when she needed some help. She had discovered an interest, and some considerable talent, in the art room, experimenting with the paints and materials, and spent many happy hours engrossed in her paintings and playful collages of mundane (but to her, bizarre) objects. She was like a magpie, collecting items that caught her eye. The bright colours and smoothness of plastic appealed to her, especially when transformed in shape by one of those odd little plastic fire making gadgets. Sunglasses were another favourite, especially the different shades of lens. It was not unusual to hear one of the villagers complaining that the lids to the tupperware containers were missing, or all the bottle tops had been removed, to find they had all been glued together, with the flyswatter, a few odd flipflop beach shoes and the mirror lenses out of someones shades. But the villagers were on the whole amused, generously indulgent, and good naturedley rolled their eyes at her creative curiosity.
          Boris was practical and capable, and true to form, was learning rapidly. He had no particular desire to express vague rambling thoughts (indeed, he was not a vague and rambling man by nature) and turned his attention to more practical matters. When he wasn’t chatting to Adeline, he was watching Jack tinkering inside car engines, or playing with Pierre’s camera and had quickly learned how to upload and play with the images on the computer. Often in the evenings Adeline would sit beside him and watch drowsily as the images changed in front of her eyes on the screen.
          Ivan and Igor were learning what they needed to learn while doing it ~ tending the goats and chickens, working outside on the land, or helping with various building projects. They had taken to the local bars like ducks to water, and spent the evenings downing copious amounts of beer and wine with the locals, all of them babbling and shouting incoherently, but seeming to understand each other in the camaraderie of inebriation.

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