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  • Bert remembered running away when he was a kid. He had run away often. But he never got very far. They always caught him and took him back. The foster homes might look a bit different on the outside, but to him they were all the same. So he just kept running. These memories flitted through his ... · ID #3543 (continued)
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  • #3330

    With the aid of the holographic map, Irina, Mr R and little Greenie have been exploring the island.
    The next day they found a crashed plane from Aeroflot, not very far from their own landing spot. It was half burried in the mud and covered in green mossy vegetation. The doors were open as an irresistible invitation to enter.

    “A surprise, Mr R. I thought that this place was on your map. If I remember well, it didn’t show such an object.”
    “Forgive me, madam, indeed this plane wasn’t there when I triangulated the map I showed you.”
    “You mean it’s fresh ?” Irina’s voice seemed to suddenly carry some interest. “Maybe we can find some survivors”, she added, already doubting it considering all the moss on teh metallic shell.
    “I’m afraid we won’t, madam. I didn’t want to bother you with that little detail until I was sure. There are objects on this island that only appear after a certain date. Have you noticed it also happens with the vegetation and the insects ?”
    Irina pouted, “I prefer leaving that to your expertise.”
    “Of course, madam”, said the robot, affable. “The paradox is…”
    “Another paradox ? How interesting.”
    “…that it doesn’t seem to include us, or that little person.”
    “Any idea what the implications are ?” Irina began to wonder if there was any danger of being stuck permanently on this island.
    “I have several hypothesis”, he began, “The most probable is the lost room hypothesis. We arrived there through time space displacement and are not a natural part of this environment, hence we don’t change with its natural environment or inhabitants because we are not under it’s time sequence according to the Lehmon’s law.”

    Irina pouted. She looked at little greenie and thought of the implications about how their new friend arrived there. Whenre did she come from ? For her to be a bog mummy, she must have been there a long time. Or did she arrived already bogged ?
    Something caught her attention about the plane and distracted her of further thinking about the subject of their continuity risk in this place. The logo of the plane looked not so oldish.
    “Mr R. ? What do you think the date of the crash was ?”
    “The plane was lost in 2112.”

    Without further thought about safety, she entered the plane, followed first by little Greenie as she have been calling her new protegee, and by the robot who despite still talking about technicalities of accidental space time crossing theory, had turned on his speleo lights.

    Interestingly enough, Irina noted the clothes on the chairs or in the alleyways, here a pair of glasses, there a necklace, all layered as if the person wearing them had been puffed away.

    “Well, well, what have we here ? The light Mr R, please,” said Irina with as much excitement as a snail. He obliged her with his usual professionalism, revealing a teal blue scarf with pistachio green spirals. She took the cloth and stretched it to have a better look. It was one of those artistic kind of hippy abstract patterns connecting you to the cosmos.
    “I can’t think of anybody who would buy that thing, maybe she stole it from one of those duty free shops before they took off,” she said as petulantly as a pitfall trap.
    “Come here little Greenie, it’s time to make you pretty.”

    Irina did not have the chance to play with dolls when she was a kid, she didn’t know if she had some psychological lack or a bad doyle dating from that unremembered period of her life. She had compensated by toying with real people, playing with their emotions and deeper needs, or what they thought they needed. She became an expert at manipulating others, which gave her her first job in insurances, and then in the secret services. But then, she dealt with adults, showing emotions, or a certain level of brain activity. She wasn’t used to children stored in bogs.

    She tried to put the scarf on Greenie’s head, and to smile like she had seen people do in the movies. Although something unexpected happened. Greenie became suddenly distressed and agitated. Then, she punched Irina in the face and began to mumble incoherent things.
    That child is stronger than I thought. And at the same time, she noticed a name in that gibberish. Didnt she just shout : “I frigging love you, Sadie Merrie.”

    “Her brainwave is showing unusual activity”, stated Mr R. “And my sensors indicate the presence has returned, with some friends. They just appeared outside of the plane.”

    #3329

    Jeremy was 23 years old and living in a 57 square meters apartment in Brooklyn. He had two passions in life. Dance and maps.

    Max growled. Well you could consider Max as Jeremy’s third passion. Max was a ragdoll cat with a tiny little genetic defect. His fur had this faint pink tint as if it had been put into a washing machine with red clothes. Max purred, satisfied.

    Jeremy’s apartment was an artwork in itself. He was painting as a hobby and had drawn a few maps on his white walls. He had the precise stroke that dance demands of a dancer’s move, he had the eye of a falcon concerning details and he loved connecting dots. For some of the maps he had used pointillism, and for others the ancient art of collage he had learned with his grand-mother Martha. Inspired by Matthew Cusnik he had made portraits of dancers with maps and other landscapes.

    Jeremy has been interested for some time in a particularly beautiful picture of the Abraham Lake that he wanted to render on one of the last remaining areas of his ceiling when Max jumped on his lap, purring like a caress junkie in need of a few strokes. Jeremy obliged his cat distractedly, too engrossed in the meanders of the picture and the few maps he could already see in his mind like a puzzle.

    Max jumped on the desk and tried to force his way between the keyboard and Jeremy’s hand. But he didn’t have enough time to fulfill his desire. The cat began to cough as if it had a train of thought stuck in his throat.

    “Shit! You’re not going to puke on my keyboard!”

    But it was too late, the cat opened its mouth and threw up a little ball of hair which bounced off the keyboard and crashed down on the floor.

    “ehw!” said Jeremy who cringed when he saw the hair ball on his carpet. “I don’t know what you ate but it smells like those wheat Polish biscuits.

    Jeremy had already taken some tissue to clean the cat’s mess, and the cat, certainly thinking it wasn’t enough was licking his fur again.
    “Don’t make another one like that. You know I don’t like it.”

    He was about to take the ball when it wobbled suspiciously. Then it began to grow. Jeremy blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. When the hairball reached the size of a soccer ball, it was obvious there was something inside, it was deformed like the belly of a pregnant woman when the baby kicks in her bowels.
    “What on earth have you spawned, Max!” He looked at his cat, horrified that it could be one of those Aliens.

    Soon it was as big as a corpse bag for two, and Jeremy could tell from the voices that there were at least two people inside.

    Sanso got out of the ragdoll hair ball first, perfect hair as usual. Fanella struggled to get out of the mess of hairs, and was a bit disheveled.

    “Time for a reality check”, said Sanso. “Am I dreaming ?” When he saw all the maps and the ragdoll cat, he knew he was at the right place.

    “Who are you guys ? And how did you get out of Max ?” asked Jeremy.

    #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.”

    #3324

    Irina gave an appreciative look at the holographic map that Mr R had made of the island.
    By a simple triangulation technique combined with sophisticated echolocation, the robot had managed to come up with a rough estimation of it, even though scattered patches were black, representing the blind spots, apparently due to the abundance of water bodies on the island that created interferences.

    “Well, it actually looks better than I expected, the coast is a bit rocky, but probably more temperate and less humid than here. Some of those spots here seem to hint at habitations…”
    “Madam is absolutely right” Mr R opined with confidence, and a glimmer of pride in his forehead interface.

    “When the girl is well enough to travel, we’ll leave.”
    “She’s still a bit cold and delirious.” The robot assessed, “Her condition has improved steadily, if not quickly. There is a good chance the green won’t go, but she will live.”

    “Have you finished the sentinel?”
    “Yes, Madam. It is complete and will serve well in monitoring the gate. Besides water rats and wrecked boats, not much seems to have went through recently. Although…”
    “Yes Mr R?”
    “I’m not quite certain Madam, which is confusing for me, but there was a moment were my sensors noticed a presence of a young person, but it lasted only for a few nanoseconds in a row, then I could not perceive it… It probably was a malfunction of my sensors Madam, I apologize, but the humidity…”
    “I don’t believe your sensors malfunctioned Mr R. I do believe someone’s been trying to phase in, but didn’t succeed. Make sure your sentinel can detect such things…”
    She went on: “Another thing, before I go for my astral meditation. Did you manage to get me a date? I’m no rocket science expert, but it sounds easier to get than your quite astonishing map Mr R.”
    “Madam is too kind. And as as always, perfectly astute. This should be easy, but again this modest robot has run into a profoundly perplexing paradox.”
    “A paradox, how exciting. What is it?”
    “According to the shifting position of constellations during the nights and the sun’s elevation, the results differ from one day to another. We have to run a few more test to be conclusive…”
    “Is is a local occurrence?”
    “It seems to be true for the whole island, Madam. It is currently fluctuating between a series of years, some of which I mapped to the following years, in no particular order: 555, 777, 888, 1010, 1111, 1212, and so on until 2121, and as well, a series of related geographical points on the Earth.”
    “No wonder it seems to be the garbage collector of the entire universe”, she sighed.

    Then, something hit her.

    If myths of such places were to be trusted… Could it be… the mythical Avalon ?
    If that were the case… Who could well be the mysterious resuscitated bog mummy?
    One of the island’s Queens ?”

    She smiled to herself, brushing off the notion. Irina, you’re such a hopeless romantic…

    #3323

    The stench of burning thatch filled the scorched air and stung their eyes as they ran towards the river. Fanella struggled to keep up with Sanso, clutching tightly to his arm, sometimes losing her footing in her flimsy sandals and bashing her bare knees on the cobblestones. “Lucky this great fire is a distraction from your unseemly attire, young miss” said Sanso, “Your naked legs are so arousing.” While appreciating Fanella’s charming thighs, Sanso failed to notice that his chopsticks were on fire. A spark had ignited them and they flared bright orange as he threw them down. Within moments they were obliterated into scattered ash. “Chop Chop Cheung Lok, now catch me if you can!” Sanso shouted gleefully.

    #3315
    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      Some character development, obviously not quite canon material…

      The Arousing Scarf
      – a short story

      by Ewkmon

      Sadie Merrie had always hated derelict Birmingham with its zesty, zealous zoos. It was a place where she felt snappy.

      She was a mysterious, freakish, algae smoothie drinker with ginger arms and supple hair. Her friends saw her as a successful, sad saint. Once, she had even helped a clear batty old crone recover from a flying accident. That’s the sort of woman he was.

      Sadie walked over to the window and reflected on her dusty surroundings. The storm teased like rampaging rabbits.

      Then she saw something in the distance, or rather someone. It was the figure of Sadie’s sister Moanie. Sadie’s sister was an awkward succubus with funny arms and impressive hair.

      Sadie gulped. She was not prepared for Sadie’s sister.

      As Sadie stepped outside and Sadie’s sister came closer, she could see the mysterious glint in her eye.

      “I am here because I want revenge,” Sadie’s sister bellowed, in a glamourous tone. She slammed her fist against Sadie’s chest, with the force of 3750 grumpy cats. “I frigging love you, Sadie Merrie.”

      Sadie looked back, even more mad and still fingering the arousing scarf. “Sadie’s sister, I love you,” she replied.

      They looked at each other with cheery feelings, like two talented, thankful twin piggies drinking at a very generous funeral, which had jazz music playing in the background and two slim uncles flying to the beat.

      Suddenly, Sadie’s sister lunged forward and tried to punch Sadie in the face. Quickly, Sadie grabbed the arousing scarf and brought it down on Sadie’s sister’s skull.

      Sadie’s sister’s funny arms trembled and her impressive hair wobbled. She looked vindicative, her body raw like a breakable, blue-eyed broom.

      Then she let out an agonising groan and collapsed onto the ground. Moments later Sadie’s sister Moanie was dead.

      Sadie Merrie went back inside and made herself a nice drink of algae smoothie.

      THE END

      #3310

      “Did anybody see Fanella?” Lisa couldn’t help but regularly count her herds (so to speak), and although she wasn’t as authoritative with her friends as she was with her animals, she couldn’t help but notice those last few times that her count was one person short —enough to start worrying her. And everybody knew what worrying did to her.
      “Oh, she’s probably somewhere lost on one of her walks, I’ve asked her to get me some new plastic materials…” Adeline snapped absentmindedly. “And when did you get back from your vacation?”

      Lisa ignored the last part. “That’s the thing, she hasn’t showed up for a while now, and I’m starting to get worried…”

      Everyone suddenly looked at her funny at the mention of the W-word.

      “Maybe you’re right, let’s go look for her… Last time she was ranting about getting lost…”
      “Did you check her makeshift atelier near the cave on the beach?” Etienne happened to overhear the conversation and somehow always seemed to know about the whens and wheres of everybody.

      “I don’t know,… yes, you’re right, maybe we can start there…” Lisa said, breathing deeply “I get a feeling something is not quite right …”
      She turned to Mirabelle and Adeline “you two are coming with me, you know her better than I do, toot toot!”

      #3308
      Jib
      Participant

        “Madame, a message from your mother. She’s waiting for you in her room.”

        Linda Pol, ensconced in a lumpy chair at the hotel bar, got confused at the mention of her mother. She had forgotten for a moment that it was the code for her meeting with Amber Graystone. The boy was wearing the hotel livery, the fur was a perfect fit on that young body. He must have been eighteen, at least, it was illegal in most states to employ underage personnel. He was presenting her a folded paper on a silver plate. That was so cliché, the Management should keep up to date with the latest unusual methods.

        She took the paper delicately. Thick, three hundred grams at least. Grainy yet satin-smooth. She thought the Management had money issues. She opened it and saw a single number inside. 88857.

        “There must be a mistake, mon ami. Certainly your hotel is big, but it doesn’t have so many stories.”
        The boy smirked.
        “Please follow me, I’ll show you the way. Oh, and keep the card with you.”

        Linda Pol had become cautious with age, but she had to admit the thrill of adventure and mystery was exciting. Especially presented on a silver plate by such a gorgeous minion. Something she hadn’t felt often lately.

        She smiled, stretched her left arm and fluttered her fingers. Those chairs were so deep that you could’t get up without looking like getting out of the armpit of a gorilla. The boy helped her out, a surprised look on his face when she appeared to spring on her feet like a young damsel. Those morning fitness sessions were paying off after all.

        “Show me everything”, she said with her best doe eyes.
        Come on, Pol. He could be your son, she thought. The youngest, added her mother’s disincarnate voice.

        #3307

        Sanso was tied securely on a Louis XVI chair, inside an ornate room kept mostly in the dark by heavy embroidered curtains that smelt of celery.
        He was craving for a tomato juice to go with the smell, and could hardly focus on an empty stomach.

        He could have easily escaped from his predicament, but he was curious about his captors, and the reason why they had him abducted after he went back to his little love nest in the R&R B&B where he’d hoped to meet again the mysterious Lady Cucumber. That was his name for her.
        He was hopeless with names, and although he was sure he had heard hers before, he preferred to remember people by associations. With Irina, that was Cucumbers. There! he thought, another proof of the brilliance of this method, as I remembered her name… Iris? Eyrin?, well, Lady Cucumber.
        He’d made love to many a lady in his life, a lady in Salmon, even a Lady Mermaid, a Lady Gingerale, a Lady Panty, a ladyboy even. He could go on for hours thinking about them, but the lady Cucumber had spun a spell around his head it seemed.

        After his last mission on a rescue with Miss Bob and her Sponges Squarepanties team, he’d run back for the 2222 B&B.
        No sooner had he arrived that heaven and hell broke loose and things went to rules and “do that or else”‘s, all things he abhorred with a passion. The links, and keys for his chains, that he could suffer, so he focused on it for awhile.

        He was woken up by a splash of ice cold water on his pants and a raucous voice in his face. Better that than the reverse, he chuckled to himself.

        “Something funny now? Tell us, where did she go?”

        He knew better than to feign ignorance, so he preferred to feign knowledge, which he’d found usually worked miracles.

        “Of course. She stole something from you…”
        “Damn right, she steal it, and we want back it.”

        The accent was difficult to place, he’d known so many inter-dimensional dialects that sometimes it was hard for him to remember.
        He would have said some northern Chinese dialect accent, with a bit of kiwi.

        He needed to know a bit more before disappearing. His curiosity was aroused by the implication that what she stole was certainly valuable. What could it be, a revolutionary hairsplitter, a butt-fluffer, a fringe freckler, ah! his head was teaming with great possibilities it was making him dizzy.

        “Don’t be silly Mister Sanso, she steal it robot very precious and advance technology.”
        and before he could reply:
        “Yes we read your mind, I confirm… You have silly thinks Mr Sanso.”

        He was starting to think now was a good time to get lost, and started to confuse their mindreader with energy patterns otherwise called gibberish thoughts.

        The chains and ropes gave way easily.
        His next move was to phase out of the room, but instead he managed to fall on his butt, in the middle of mocking looking Chinese in tuxedos and purple bow ties.

        “Ah, I see, you have some antiportation technology…” Sanso was a fair player. The temptation was big to run for another exit, if only for the exhilaration of a chase in the corridors of that strange place, but his stomach was thinking otherwise.

        “I see you are vely fond of kewcomber, we are no animawls, we will give you delishius kewcomber.”

        Minutes after, he was thrown with a certain form of Chinese ceremony in a small cubic windowless room. On a table next to the door, was his meal apparently.

        He recoiled in horror when he opened the lid covering his plate. The strong odour of garlic pricked his nose.
        “No way! Fucking jokers!”
        That was even worse than to eat boiled cucumber chunks in spicy sauce.
        Swimming in soy sauce were slices of chewy sea cucumbers that looked more like fat juicy leeches from a filthy bog.

        He ate reluctantly, arguing with his stomach about the benefits of the collagen in said sea cucumbers, and at the same time realized the Chinese mobsters were probably from the Chinese Robot Incorporated Mission Eternal, a renowned corporation that had managed to free countless people from menial jobs thanks to prodigious advances in robotics.
        The Lady Cucumber was suddenly more than a mysterious beauty, she was also a mysterious wanted beauty, and he couldn’t wait to… But he had to guard his thoughts for now.

        He looked at the bamboo chopsticks with a sly smile. He had not said his last word, and the person who could boast of having Sanso detained was not born yet.

        #3306

        Irina started to smell foul play when she arrived at the coordinates indicated in the last of the laconic messages sent to her by the Management.

        “Are you sure you got the coordinates right Mr R?”
        “Very much so Madam, but if you will allow me, I will double check to alleviate the hint of doubt I perceive in your most suave voice.”
        “Yes, do that please.”

        When becoming anxious, Irina tended to get prone to bossiness, and didn’t like what she heard in her voice.

        “I adore this door.”
        Yes, that was much better with suave undertones, with a hint of foreign raspy accent to spice it up.

        In truth, the door was plain, wooden, with a number painted on it, half erased, and a series of symbols which, although she could not place them, raised a distant alarm in her mind.
        “Rainbow magic?…” That was how they renamed the lore of black magic when it was privatized and re-marketed to the masses. She had not seen rainbow magic in ages, and there was no way that door would lead to an actual island without moving her out of this time and space.

        “Bloody buggers. Should have read those cryptic fine prints more carefully.”

        She realized there was a good chance her promised island was in a godforsaken place lost in time. She could count herself lucky if the deserted island was not in the palaeolithic and raided by dangerous dinosaurs…

        There was little choice. Either boldly embrace the great unknown behind the door, and trust her luck, or stay behind, short of the island of her dreams and probably condemned to run from the Management’s evil plans anyway.
        At least, with option one, the lottery could be favourable.
        That was what you got for dabbling in sketchy and questionable shots.

        “Mr R, are you ready?”
        “Always, Madam.”

        She felt lucky and pressed the door.

        #3301

        Without Mirabelle and Lisa around, trying to encourage her all the time but succeeding merely in making her feel harassed, Fanella had relaxed enough to achieve a remarkable degree of success with her teleport and projection practice. Projecting had been easy enough actually, but a full teleport was another matter. But she was encouraged by her successes with the projections, and the few seconds of full body teleporting here and there that she had managed.
        Her attempts to return to her original physical focus timeframe had been futile; there were mental and emotional blocks and too much associated baggage getting in her way, and her lack of a specific intention with other timeframes had led not unsurprisingly to random times and places which had been unsettling ~ at times alarming ~ resulting in her finding herself back where she started in no time at all.
        Fanella decided to pick a date and a location and be firm about it and unwavering.
        She chose a date and a location based on an old battered book she had found on the shelf in Lisa’s house. It was called Circle of Eights and Other Stories. Many a happy hour had she spent reading the book down by the river, a gloriously feast of imaginative tales, with no dull steadfast tiresome normal plot or structure. It had appealed to her greatly, and sparked many fantastic ideas and wonderings. She felt particularly attracted to the tale about the island in 2121, and decided to make that her specific teleport destination.

        #3299
        Jib
        Participant

          It hadn’t been easy to obtain Sadie a pay raise. The management always seemed to look for new ways to cut the costs wanted to give her an extra for the good job. Although this time, LP could put the golden balls and the rebirth of the network in the balance. They could have had enough to give the whole team a decent salary. Indeed, it wasn’t really fair that the young queens were not paid at all. Unless of course you counted props, wigs and fake eyelashes. Eventually, Linda got Sadie the extra and the raise she had asked for, and new contracts for the three young queens. She shall not forget the tears of joy in their eyes when she announced them they were part of the big Queer Network family. It had made her feel good and generous even if it was not her money she was giving.

          Linda Pol wrapped her luscious lips around an authentic straw and sucked up voraciously the glowing rainbow cocktail. Mmmmm, this new Peas’cocktail is divine, she thought. After the buzz created by their last network and that mysterious quest of Saint Germain for Peasland, peas-thingies were everywhere. She put the glass back on the edge of the Jacuzzi and looked at the little magenta umbrella for a moment. She didn’t know what was the most pleasing, the bubbles gently massaging her back in the water, or the gorgeous scenery of the Merry Otter resort in Maui. Linda Pol hadn’t had good vacation in a long long time, and if she had been in vacation this place could totally be one of her first choices destinations.

          Unfortunately, she wasn’t there for vacations or relaxation. She wasn’t there for exercise either. She had been asked to attend a conference and meet with one of those new Random Science scientists specialized in the ambergris tiles. As if it was a joke from the Universe, her name was Amber Graystone. But Linda Pol had long learned that there were no such thing as unusualness, you just hadn’t seen enough of the world.

          A boy came to refill her cocktail. Girl, you spend too much time looking at young bums, she thought, ageing beliefs were everywhere. She was feeling drowsy with the bubbles and the alcohol, almost dreaming of whales and ambergris.

          “… Graystone is taking her job too seriously”, said a man’s voice.

          Linda Pol opened her eye, just enough so that her fake eyelashes could still hide she was awake. When she was young, her curiosity had put her in trouble more times than the number of her pair of shoes. She had developed strategies and an incredible butt recognition skill. It had helped her win many contests in her youth and avoid boring conversations later on.

          The two men wore bath suits. Linda could clearly see that one of the butts was slack and lifeless. Almost avoiding the contact with the fabric. An American butt fed with hamburgers and soda. The rest of the silhouette seemed to naturally spread out from its central component.

          The other one moved like a mustang, the shiny red lycra was only here to help you see more clearly the outline of the flesh, not hide it. The curve of the bottom of the spine indicated a Russian ancestry. She felt a rush of adrenaline. She loved how Russians rolled their Rs. They could do many things with a rolling tongue.

          “You want me to take carrre of herrr ?” asked a voice carrying ice.

          “No, just remind her to whom she owes her subsidies. And her results.”

          #3293

          The whales’ dance on the dark bluish background lit by the tiniest reflection on floating seahorses and other sea creatures, made the scenery look like an eerie night skyline, full of moving stars.
          The added feeling of weightlessness was empowering, and soon, the three queens passed side glances, barely interested by the words of wisdom of the hologram, and catching each other’s mind, almost asked their question at the same time.

          Terry was the quickest this time, “Please, please, can you do a rendition of the Name Game with your disco ball lights, we’re all dying to do a dance! Please?”

          Interestingly, the Hologram didn’t show any hesitation as it started to sing, and the three queens were all glowing as they adjusted their wigs, fins and other appendages.

          The Name Game
          Terry!
          Terry, Terry bo Berry Bonana fanna fo Ferry
          Fee fy mo Merry, Terry!
          Sadie! Sadie, Sadie bo Badie Bonana fanna fo Fadie
          Fee fy mo Madie, Sadie!
          Come on everybody!
          I say now let’s play a game
          I betcha I can make a rhyme
          Out of anybody’s name …

          The lights were on, and the dresses glittered, Terry in the spur of the moment added kelp extensions to her wig to match the sardine tones of her suit, while Sadie’s only concession to fashion was a little glowing golden jellyfish that seemed to match her bob cut, and made for a funny pulsating hat.

          Adamus was on, and unstoppable

          The first letter of the name,
          I treat it like it wasn’t there
          But a B or an F, or an M will appear
          And then I say Bo add a B
          Then I say the name and Bonana fanna and a fo
          And then I say the name again
          With an F very plain and a fee fy and a mo
          And then I say the name again
          With an M this time
          And there isn’t any name that I can’t rhyme.

          A chorus of dolphins tried to join, having Consuela burst hysterically into peals of unstoppable laughter.

          Consuela!
          Consuela, Consuela bo Bonsuela Bonana fanna fo Fonsuela
          Fee fy mo Monsuela, Consuela!
          But if the first two letters are ever the same,
          I drop them both and say the name
          Like Bob, Bob drop the Bs Bo ob
          For Fred, Fred drop the Fs Fo red
          For Mary, Mary drop the Ms Mo ary
          That’s the only rule that is contrary.

          Maurana was shaking her head in seducing moves, pretending not to die of envy of the others, and expecting her turn.
          And the music went on…

          Okay? Now say Bo: Bo
          Now Belen without a B: Elen
          Then Bonana fanna fo: bonana fanna fo
          Then you say the name again with an F very plain: Felen
          Then a fee fy and a mo: fee fy mo !
          Then you say the name again with an M this time: Melen
          And there isn’t any name that you can’t rhyme
          Maurana! Maurana, Maurana bo Baurana Bonana fanna fo Faurana
          Fee fy mo Aurana, Maurana!

          And they continued with all sorts of names for quite a while, even some of the whales’ and dolphins’ who were obviously enjoying the interlude.

          :fleuron:

          “Did you get all that on video?” Maurana asked Sadie.
          “Of course I did, the ezapper got it all. Linda Paul and the network won’t believe their eyes, it’s some heavy material! Even better than gold bars!” Sadie could barely believe what had just happened.

          The whales seemed to have been so thrilled that after a moment of silence, a smaller one broke off the cycle, went to the huge crystal and took a heart shaped shard of it to offer them.

          “I guess that’s their way of burning a DVD, what do you think?” Consuela was blissfully hopeless with technology, but could also have some moments of brilliance.

          “We should go now” Sadie said looking up from the ezapper “it looks like some unidentified giant blue crab is coming at us, and we better let the whales handle it.”

          “Are we going through that awful sewer again?” Maurana was starting to get green at the idea.

          “I don’t think so, I had Sanso pick us up at the underwater cave thanks to Consuela surprise reconnaissance mission. He just arrived and he just texted me his location. It’s not far from here. He seems to have managed to herd a few octopi to carry us across. Always surprisingly resourceful this one, I might start to like him…”
          Snapping from her emotions, she continued
          “Time to say your adieus to 2222 ladies. Tonight, everyone’s a winner. We’re going to be famous.”

          #3285

          Secretly, Sadie had a beautifully laid out plan in her head, like a vacation plan with stop-overs at luxury hotels, and activities to entertain the children.
          That made her slightly miffed about the succession of sidetrack adventures and the lack of focus of her protégés.

          The plan was simple enough, they had to take the magical crystal from under the whale’s noses, and get back to the closest Time sewer, where they could funnel up (her fancy verb for “complete”) the special reboot edition of the Time Draggler’s show.

          Surprisingly, Linda Paul’s interest and instructions seemed to have weakened and her usually generous and unwarranted input have been inordinately limited. Maybe the summer heat wave had mollified her, or her projects had shifted since the pilot of the Time Draggler’s show had failed to grab the network’s attention and fulfil its promises.
          She couldn’t say. But something in what the techromancer told her had stuck, and she couldn’t quite shake it out. “A train will come for you, and you will have to catch it, this Time is your train.”
          The hell if she knew what Time that was anyway.
          But one thing was sure, this one-time gig was growing on her, and she didn’t want to get back to dog food tasting. So one way or another, she’d have to make it work, and move the drag’s lazy butts to make a heck of an entertaining show.

          “Look! I vink vey’re over vere!” Maurana was getting the gist of the telepathic conversation.

          It was lucky the interior of the cave was lit, as outside the night had fallen like a cold black carpet on a pack of dust bunnies, dropping the water’s temperature. Luckily, the suits seemed to have their own warming as well as glowing mechanism.

          Terry was over Consuela, who seemed unconscious and in a REM sleep.
          “Hey! Consuela learnt your eye rolling technique!” Maurana gleefully tuned towards Sadie.
          “Don’t be silly, I think he’s in shock, pass me that electric eel, to wake that bitch up.” Terry was always for a bit of drama. It seemed to do the trick.

          “Woah, you can’t believe the stuff I’ve seen…” Consuela’s pupils were dilated so much it was hard to see the whites of her eyes.

          “Classic case of red algae intoxication, no need to consult the ezapper for that” Sadie said. “It is known that dolphins use it as a shamanic tool to astral. The concentration in these waters is surprinsingly high. Nothing than some fresh water can’t cure.” Too much time under water, she started to babble like a fish.

          The Time window wouldn’t stay indefinitely open. She needed to get them move, and take back her authority. With children like them, one thing that worked was to shake some shiny stuff in front of them and let them follow it.
          “Anyone interested in a Whale Queen’s Race?”

          #3283

          When Huhu arrived at his destination, Irina was sunbathing to the last rays of a big red gorgeous sunset that painted the waves in iridescent shades of purple.
          At the same time, the sun’s course had already started a new day on the shores of New Zealand, where her sister was living, and she surely would be thrilled. Long had she waited for the 2222-2-22 marker.
          Here, in Hawaii, they would still be in 2222-2-21, for a few more hours.
          Irina started to shiver. 22°C her watch read. As if she needed to be any more quirky about this date…

          “Good boy!” she said to the parrot, taking the key it was carrying. Huhu tittered in contentment, cracking some of the pistachios she fed him distractedly.

          She’d just received additional information from the Management. Elusive as usual, and leaving a great deal to interpretation, including the interdiction.

          They’d promised to get her her dream island as a retirement plan. Some said it was the original land of the mermaids (who used to have as much feathers as Rio Carnival’s samba dancers), right off Italy’s Amalfi’s coast. Among its perks, it boasted to incorporate 8 staff, and a private grotto — that, if anything else than her fine waist line, would surely entice Sanso into other steamy booty calls.
          She’d seen the pictures of the properties, her first thought though was that she needed to shoot the interior decorator. In short, it was almost her moral duty to get it, and change the decor. On the whole, she was convinced the island would do her good.

          So, when she looked back at the previous instructions to see how good she’d done on her mission’s objectives, she shrugged a little. She’d understood instinctively right when it was delivered that it was a clever cipher, especially given the late date shift. So she had reinterpreted the actual commands, and leisurely waited for the travellers to appear, and get comfy. By now, she was certain they trusted her telepathic commands well enough, so that solved the trust conundrum.
          Basically, she was a major proponent of her own interpretation of old Ho’oponopono rituals. Instead of the usual mantra “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.” hers was a bit more straightforward and was around the lines of “Green sickness to you. Peace be with you, and bugger off.
          Said a few times with proper intonation and inner work, and it was know to her to alter dramatically any block or resistance into a great flow of pure unfettered energy. So she had adamant faith that all she needed to do to complete her mission was to focus on herself and solve the resistance within by letting go.

          The last message was short.

          22 the code * whale that * BO

          It could only mean one thing. 22 was a clever cipher meaning conundrum as in a catch 22, but also an obvious reference to the temperature. So it could only mean one thing: tamper with the code on the 22nd, and send it on the way to the whales, with a bug on it.

          “Mr R, please, fetch!”

          The discrete, yet always present robot caught the key with grace, and on her careful instructions, proceeded to alter the code of the key.

          Irina was enjoying herself immensely, and found it a pity nobody could witness her true genius. “The ones who’ll read that key later, well… they are in for such a wild goose chase!”
          The second part of St Germain’s encoded hologram was now ripe with wonderful and bewildering information about blubbits and the magic kingdom of Peasland with obscure and arcane references of magic numbers like 57, that would have anybody sane turn mad as a hatter in no time. Hopefully the whales would be immune to the nonsense, but probably not humans.

          Now was the final part of the plan.

          “Mr R?”
          “Madam?”
          “I hope you are ready for this delicate reinsertion mission. Do you still have that octopus suit of yours ready?”
          “Of course, Madam. Right away Madam.”

          #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.

          #3280

          The whitewashed blue trimmed village by the sea had an air of tranquility despite the abundance of colourful beach dresses and accessories draped outside the shops, and the red and blue parasols shading the cafe tables and chairs. Locals and holidaymakers strolled about, unhurried and relaxed, and the blue sea twinkled enticingly beyond, as if the street disappeared into the ocean. Mirabelle imagined shoppers carrying bags of vacation purchases wandering right into the water, perhaps to continue their strolling on the seabed, idly perusing it’s treasures and trinkets; wandering back out again on to another street somewhere, dripping at first and leaving little puddles in their wake.
          I wonder how deep you could go? she wondered, If you could walk on the ocean floor for as long as you liked?
          Lisa, however, was more interested in the shops and had disappeared into one of them, lured by the gaily coloured scarves. She chose two and held one in each hand, wondering which one would be more reassuring, more comforting. A scarf is something to hold on to in a storm, she thought ~ and then wondered where the thought had come from.

          #3276

          “Oh, fuck it” Maurana said when she saw Consuela darting ahead. “The bitch is going to tire and notice we’re all here waiting for the barmy robot to pick us up… I guess… eventually?”

          But Consuela was paying no attention, and continued until it would take too much effort to swim and catch her. Maurana felt a moment of panic. What about the others? Terry seemed still here, doing rounds and laps in her sardine colours, while Sadie seemed to catch her underwater breath. Maybe they should all wait for Sadie’s instructions, she always knew what to do.
          “Let’s just hope that darn e-zapper of hers is waterproof” she bubbled in giggles.

          #3273

          Consuela was always the more independent and adventurous. She didn’t realise at first that there was something not quite right about the perilous situation.

          Breathing under water was strange, and it felt like a not quite adjusted piece of garment (an ill-motherfucker-fitted thong Maurana would have said), as though her lungs were filled with a light yet mucous fluid.
          They’d all struggled and kicked the water in violent spams in the beginning, thinking they were about to die when the wetsuit automatic mucusbags went off, as a security measure for drowning, she’d guessed.
          But then, the magic happened and they realised they could breathe like fishes.
          Then the shark panic attack happened, which left them swimming for their lives with their prosthetic fins (and more or less graceful movements). But the shark didn’t seem interested after all, or it was driven away by a more juicy prospect, because they soon found themselves following a strange string of parallel lighted dots that dived deeper under water like an oddly placed seacraft runway. At least, that was what she thought at first, until she arrived at the cave’s entrance and realized nobody was actually following her.

          The others didn’t follow… She only had to hope that they would catch her later with a taxi or something…
          The thought of being able to discover the underwater cave trumped all sense of caution, and the lure of the prized crystal of exotic properties was enough to send her further down, despite the feeling of flashing tentacles creeping around in her peripheral vision, then gone in an instant the moment she turned the head around…

          #3272

          “There is a fine balance between touch ups and shoehorning”
          Jonbert was half-listening to the rant of his tailor and shoemaker, as he was trying on a new outfit and tartan kilt.
          Jonbert’s temper had improved slightly, and he was up to moderate amount of grumpiness as he’d learnt of the arrival of the elder whale, and of the throwing of his guests in the midst of the cetaceans. That explained how he could tolerate much of it.

          “You can’t just shoehorn any pattern under the pretext that you fancy it. It has to be in harmony with the moment, in pure synchronistic bliss.” His tailor, Erldrich Lumoncelli, was often prone to bouts of philosophical ramblings that Jonbert had to suffer to get the perfect tailored suits he wanted.

          “Oh, bugger that nonsense,” he suddenly shouted, unable to suffer more of the airy monologue. “You’ll give me that gold and orange tartan and those yellow dots on my green shoes if I tell you so. Orange will bring out my shiny hair and light complexion I reckon.”

          Color-blind Jonbert wasn’t obviously as savvy for colour matching as he was for time-travelling business, but Erldrich knew better than to infuriate him with aesthetic negotiations.
          “Very well Sir.”
          He finished taking the measurements quickly, folded back the swatches of textile, and bowed out as if his house was on fire.

          Jonbert pulled back his heavy mane of hair into a neat French catogan, truly a unapologetic snobbishness on his part, as it didn’t look very different from a usual ponytail, but somehow sounded more distinguished. Nobody likes to be compared to a pony, do they?
          He walked past the great central hall of the submarine, into the Sightseethroughing Dome Room, and considered for a moment to visit the butterfly nursery, in case the new butterflies were hatched yet. But if butterflies had taught him something is that you couldn’t hurry and cut open a cocoon before the butterfly was ready. There was no such thing as a mythical half-caterpillar half-butterfly creature, every change was a complete change, and it had its own timing.

          But now things were back on course, and the 22nd of February 2222 was still days ahead. Time again was on his side.

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