Search Results for 'collected'

Liz had taken well to her new prescription drugs.
In appearance, it had seemed to have drained out the inexhaustible source of inspiration that let her write novels after novels. Or maybe that was just due to the absence of Finnleys to take care of the editing.

In the meantime, Godfrey had worked hard to nurture her back to whatever state she called sanity and suited her best, and gently coax her to resume her former passion.

“Godfrey, let me retire from writing, it’s too passé.” she was pouring concrete into the silicon molds to make new saint statues. Over the years, she’d accumulated quite a few of those saints and martyrs that she collected (or stole) from derelict places of cult during her travels. She liked to paint them back to life with gaudy colours, mimicking some sort of Mexican style. Sometimes she would dress them, and ask Finnley to sew them clothes and little hats.

Strangely, getting her out of the hospice had made her want to populate the whole house with concrete clones of those statues. Maybe to fill a void of inspiration ?
Nevertheless, Godfrey was amazed at her capacity to innovate. Her writing momentum was certainly at a low, but did she channel her creativity in many ways.
The last batch of Christian martyr statues painted in the many outfits of David Bowie were a testament to that.

His mother had told him not to trust what he would see. Somehow she’d spoken as if she knew more than she wanted to tell.

After the mayhem with the quakes, and the meteor impact, he thought that was it. There was something more to the reality of these events.

But then, nothing could have prepared them for what happened next. “Bloody aliens?”

Suspiciously, everyone seemed completely hypnotized and blissfully eager to follow them wherever they led. He had tried to wake Yz up, she was usually the no-nonsense one, but she’d looked at him with vacant eyes barely recognizing him with a faint “Johnny?”.

He started to get really suspicious when one of the robots started looking at his behaviour, not packing like the others. It even tried to force him to drink water —dehydration was common in these airtight environments, it said. It was then it dawned on him, that there must have put something in the water. But for what? A Mars take-over?

How he was somehow immune? Well, for a while he’d collected the water dripping from the stones, and had analysed it, found it very pure. A few days ago, before the whole string of disasters, he’d tried to drink it, see how it tasted, and it seemed safe. Must have been why. By now, most of the stones he’d collected had dried up, and his water supply was limited.

While pretending to slowly pack his things, he was looking at everyone queueing in short lines, all very ecstatic to go to the implausible blue boot-ship surrounded by watchful Finnleys. The exodus had a very eerie feeling about it.

He could see most of the persons he knew, even the new ones, Prune cuddling a box with her hamster family, Hans, even that daft Lizette and the mines guy. The religious nuts were so stoned they were all following an obviously overdressed robot with a headpiece they probably took for their religious leader.

But wait… His mother? He hadn’t see her. Where had she gone?

Queens Team and 2121 originated time-travellers

Reginald / Maurana Banana
Cedric / Consuela Winnie
Amar / Terry Bubble
Sadie Merrie
Linda Paul

Supporting team

Pseu, Maria del Mar, Janice (from the City, around 2257)
Sanso (from other dimension, multi-dimensional travel contractor)
Frindle, Trumble, Jingle (fuck knows who they are)
the Hawai’i techromancer

Management team (around 2222 and later)

Irina, mermaid Russian spy and parrot whisperer

Jonbert, the orchestrator of the time-travelling arcs, wanting to retrieve key information from St Germain which were collected in 1757. En route back to 2222 to intercept the whales’ crystal with help from Linda Paul’s team, and his luxury submarine

1757 King’s Versailles

The Queen
Madame de Pompadour
her maid Nicole du Hausset, coming from a line of time-smugglers
Mr Aliette the wigmaker and finger reader
Count de St Germain
Giacomo Casanova (pseudonyms Monsieur de St Galle / Jacques de Seingalt)
Father Balbi, Casanova’s travelling companion
Theater du Soleil actors (Lison Tailleur, Jean Pastisse, Geoffroy du Limon, Francette Fine)
Robert-Francois Damiens, the assassim
Jean-Pierre Duroy, the Grand Intendant, his wife the Pastry Chef Annie
Cook and Helper
ghost of Marguerite Isabeau

The 1757 originated time-travellers

Mirabelle the oldest and bossiest, Adeline the youngest (thief of the first ferret) and Fanetta, the French maids
Igor Popinkin, Boris and Ivan the Russian con-artists and saboteurs hidden with the Russian Ballet troupe visiting Versailles
Huhu the parrot
The Whale ghost, the ghost ship (died/sunk around 1600s) and time-travelling fin whales of 2020s
Belen, the whale
Santa Rosa, the galleon
the ghost obese gardener-captain Peter Pugh Petit Pois, from Peasland

The Spanish farm and fat mermaid dolphins

Lisa, Jack
Pierre and Etienne
The Italian cruise ship
pink Amazonian dolphins

Jonbert had developed an interesting theory while doing his morning ablutions about time travel and catching butterflies. He had a gorgeous butterfly nursery inside the submarine, and got the strange idea that trying to fiddle with time was like catching a prized butterfly among lots of others looking alike.

His thoughts were interrupted when the horn signaled they had arrived in 2222 in one of the blind spots of the ocean’s depths close to the particular spot where… some interesting butterflies would be attracted.

The submarine was mostly entirely roboted. There was little for him to take care of, so instead of pacing around in his tartan kilts, he sat back in a comfortable 1980s garish sofa from his antique collections, and revisited his memories in his memory palace.

He had taken him great patience and cunningness to hatch the plan. Through many of his Time Tourist outlets and a few shell corporations, the last of one which was named Vague, he had manipulated events to design and hire the Drag Queen time contest. Drag queens wasn’t the original plan, more of an unexpected deviation, not that it really mattered. All he needed was just one mission. Then, he only had to make sure the contestant would be diverted to a carefully selected time zone, and given a key to smuggle.
The key wasn’t really important, what it collected along the way was.

For him to be able to breach the Time wall of 3333, he needed vast amounts of gold, and to his knowledge, it could only be accomplished through true transmutation.
Artificial gold, like artificial crystal wasn’t created as good as it gets in nature, and for some reason wouldn’t remain stable enough as the machines were propelled too far in time. Of course the irony of that was a conundrum in itself and wasn’t lost to him: after all, wasn’t transmutated gold just artificial too? After what centuries had managed to push as boundaries and envelopes, he wasn’t sure any longer what was artificial or natural. And it was his last ditch effort at living everlastingly.
He didn’t care if he could just chose another of these holobodies to project his thoughts into, he was old school, and stubborn to a fault. He had to see it through, even if, and especially if so many before him had failed.

The key was designed to capture a complete hologram of the person who seemed to have accomplished the transmutation recipe he desired: St Germain.

His razor blade in left hand (he was ambidextrous with a slight favour for the left side), Ed suddenly remembered his future struggle with the daft cumbersome vermillion man, so he quickly turned off the portal. Then, against all common sense and years of procedures, decided to put it into his pocket.
Everything following came back at once, interspersed with bits of smashed objects and blurs. But something he distinctly remembered was that Mari Fe was in the apartment, although he didn’t remember bringing her home from last night. It was against company policy to sleep with subordinates, so it had to mean something fishy.
Recalibrating the portal using the failsafe code, he directed it to the secret headquarters where he had started to stockpile dangerous artefacts collected from previous surge control operations, deciding it was the best course of action before assessing who was to be trusted or not in his Chicks team…

Dru Hammond’s flight was being delayed at Charles de Gaulle airport.
Not the most brilliant idea to fly with Air Frange for this mission, he thought…
He held from well informed source that airports days were counted, and that airports would soon become deserted museums – in truth, teleportation tech was being developed and soon would be mainstreamed by Ganga, the mammoth merger of Amazoom and Koogle companies.
That was why he tried to enjoy this vintage means of transportation as much as he could now, and collected plane tickets from all possible flight companies from around the world.
Dru was an auditor from Passadena, working for the Team, or actually for Ed Steam, the boss himself. His mission was usually to discretely assess the Team’s strengths and shortcomings. However, in this case, he was sent to Malaga for the Three Kings’ Parade, and there was a catch to his assignment. But he wasn’t at liberty to think too much about it. Ed had means to read minds, and thinking too much wouldn’t do him any good. So instead he tried to focus on something innocuous, like fluffy white rabbits dancing in a snow field.
The security check was taking forever. After an unending stream of Italian tourists, there was a Frenchman stuck into the security gate with a folded drying rack that he was trying to bargain his right to carry it into the plane with lots of ample movements, while the gatekeeper was stubbornly nodding his head.
Dru after some initial irritation started to find the whole barter amusing. His flight wasn’t boarding before four more hours, so he had time.
He suddenly wasn’t as much amused when, after relenting and letting the security guy take the rack back to be sent in the cargo hold, the French guy accidentally let his suitcase drop and burst open, revealing a clunky mess of things among which: a heavy black hammer, a humongous book as large as the suitcase itself, crockery, tin canned foods and lots of multicoloured clothes pegs.
All his auditor’s instincts were crying at him right now that without the shadow of a doubt this man was a dangerous terrorist, hiding under an innocent awkward guise. Sighing of relief when he overheard he was going to Shanghai instead of his European destination, he wondered what terrorists would do in a world of easy free teleportation…

Bronkel was stern as ever, yet you could feel in his eyes that he was troubled.

— “What? That’s roobish, isn’t it?”
— “No! Elizabeth! Not at all! It’s your best book in years! Poople will want more!”
— “Well, we’ll see… For now, I think my moose needs some rest”

Her detox had done her great. Her beautifool violet eyes weren’t as bloodshot as before, and she could even see some of her hair grow back in places. Elizabeth in some surge of energy had collected all the bits written here and there, loose paper flying at times with some missing (perhaps used during her poohnuts hazes to light fires in the office).
Some of these paper she wasn’t even sure were hers, or writing attempts by Finnley, but she didn’t care; they were all so funny and interesting.

For instance, she wasn’t too soore that she’d have Veranassasss —whatever her bloody name was— go off with the pilot of the plane, but that sounded nice for her. So she’d used that part too.

Of course, the Spanish couple, Paqui and Jose had reemerged at the boulder moving party after a long trip in the underground space-traveling tunnels. Leo and Bea were not so glad they’d reappeared so early, but had found it was time to move on, and continue their quest for more bizarre and entertaining artifacts. And they wanted to go to Morocco anyway, in this gorgeous blue city…
Young Becky decided she wanted to go abroad to travel the world. “And study too” had said Dan who wasn’t as shifty as Dory, a thing for which she thanked heavens profusely every day.

Sharon, Gloria and Mavis after some more bizarre adventures among the Masai tribes finally found their way back home, while Akita continued his explorations of this strange shifting world of the 21st century.

Even the bizarre animals stories in the ZOO she’d kept. They’d even found Arky the Aardvark. He had been accidentally buried under Oligan the Oliphant’s pile of poop. The poor Oliphant had suffered from an excess of mangoes in his diet, and Arky was so eager to collect poop for his garden of flowers that he hadn’t noticed the harbingers of it.
Pawanie the lady Panda and Barry the White Bear had since then decided to take care of the little Aardvark, and provide it with their own poop to fertilize the flower garden. Theirs was a garden to behold, with the most beautiful flowers to be seen in miles. Attracting creatures from all over the place.

There were a few points Elizabeth had left deliberately unanswered; the mad doctor, who was probably still alive somewhere, and most important of all… if, after all this children bearing with Sean, Becky ended up with Sam or not.
One thing was sure though, they were all moving to the City. The sooner the better.

California, 1849

Almost five months… Five whole months they’d been traveling all around the place at a very slow pace.
Twilight was enjoying every instant of being in the middle of that strange moving cohort.

She had been inspired to write daily. Not much at the beginning, but it was all “in the dedication and intent that marvel would shine through”, as Felix, the Otter man had been saying to her.

In truth, she wasn’t really expecting marvels, but marvels had come to her more than once.
At times, she even felt compelled to write about it to Jo and Elroy, her dear brothers. Of course, she’d been writing with a clockwork regularity, posting sometimes more than a few letters at each of their settling near a new town, all the way from Texas, to Colorado, Utah, Nevada and finally California. She wasn’t even sure the actual letters were reaching them, but she more than once felt like her thoughts had reached them throughout the distance, and her dreams would confirm her into these intuitions.
That trip was hard, harder than she would have guessed, with all the heat, dust and chaotic dirt trails, but the company and fellowship was always uplifting, and a joy of each instant.
Even the war between America and Mexico that made travel even more perilous was over after two years, and things all around seemed to settle down more peacefully as if to reflect that truce.

And now, looking at all of what she had gathered, she was amazed at these marvels she had collected, those nuggets of their lives, each moment seemingly so fleeting and trite, and yet, as they were put together, all marvelously interwoven.
Though she mostly loved passionate real-life stories, she had to admit she had a soft spot (or let it be said, an un-common spot) for one of her most delirious story.
She had been inspired to write something about giant ants after she’d been amazed at seeing huge ant hills during their trip in the deserts. There was this mad quack who was trying to extract some sort of honey from giant ants to make a powerful drug, and and she had added lots of her friends from the show inside this story. Herself was a delightful jet-black haired beauty with an impossible name and diverse and frustrated love interests, spying on the mad quack… She even started to dream about that story at times…

She loved that gentle slipping into abundant nutness…

Now that they were arrived in San Francisco, she was considering settling there for a while, sharing her time between writing and dancing. Time would tell.

She had felt it.
When the old man had left his body behind, she had felt it.

Oorlaith had foreseen that he would decide to leave this World, and thus was not affected too much. However, she was not sure that Leonard, who she had sent to the highs of Mount Elok’ram had had time to retrieve the cup of Margilonia.

Oorlaith had already collected the wand of Selvaniel, which Leonard had brought back to her, thanks to her indications, from the Forest bordering the Marshes. Now, she hoped he had time enough to get to the old Abbot.
Otherwise, it might be more delicate…
Much more delicate…

Hopefully, she had made contact with Roselyn, who had been settling in another part of Asgurdy, on one of the numerous rocky islands bordering the South-western coasts, where life was scarce and the soil barren, but where it was safe enough to do magic in this superstitious land, as not much people ventured to these places.
Her spiked dragon had helped her carve out her new residency and she was quite well installed now.
Before moving from the deserts of Asgurdy, she had managed to get the sunstone of Agnima.