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— “What do you think then? Aren’t you interested in going away a few days for a visit in that new City?” Al asked Tina
— “Well, I don’t know”, she answered, her voice muffling down to a whisper. Or more precisely, not a whisper, but a soft transition into a telepathic mode. That non-verbal mode of communication was recently the most efficient way they’d found to exchange without need for lengthy explanations.

That way, lots of discussions were held at once, and answers instantly given to a whole range of multiplexed questions.

“You know,” Al continued after a moment “that guy we met last time, Sam’s friend…”
“Yes, Armando” Tina answered telepathically

“Yeah. He’s got his flying car model perfected; apparently, they’re now starting to put flying tractors on the market too. I was thinking we could rent one to go to that country City. Sounds reasonable enough; we can fly to go there, and once arrived, even if it’s muddy, a tractor would come in handy.”

Finally, sailing on the Orgasmic Sea had not been as difficult as Akita would have thought .

Occasionally, while they were sleeping on the deck under the starry sky, he could hear a few “Ahs” and “Ohs” (something even some “Oooh” as far as he recalled) coming from the three ladies, but perhaps that was only the effects of their feeling again their skin against the sheets, since all their hair had almost now gone.

He was wondering if that was a special disposition of the Brits and people coming from the cold areas, that kind of bestial growing of hair, and shedding in spring… Could well be, as his Asian ancestors never had been accustomed to growing much hair themselves, he couldn’t tell for sure.

Perhaps they were dreaming too… As soon as they had found out about this strange piece of tile, their imagination seemed to have taken to new heights. They were speaking of Spreal, an ancient civilization buried for 570,000 years under the ices, near the Onyx river and had almost manifested the strong desire to come back to investigate.

Hopefully Kay had given him the perfect excuse to not comply with the sometimes erratic demands of the three Graces: the iceberg was slowly melting in the giant structure of plastic containing the freshwater from the berg, and the heat exchange was also giving the propellant for the trip. They probably wouldn’t be able to get away so easily if they backed-off now.
Hopefully their shedding had finished to convince them. Any vague desire left to go to the frozen place was long gone with the comfortable hairy insulation.

Akita had thought for a moment of going back to his homeland, in Arkansas. But now that probably most of his family was dead, or thinking him dead, there wouldn’t be much point in doing that. Instead, he’d decided to trust living in the present. Not worrying about that elusive past from another life, and only focus on what route was open to him now.
Sharon, Gloria and Mavis were apparently not in a hurry to come back home either, and now that Kay was more and more easily accessible for him, he didn’t feel alone at all. So all was well.

Alizabath Tittler took another draw on her fag of nicoback.
Passing her hand through her wild and matted hair, she noticed there were mare and mare bald patches hare and thare instead of her former lusciaas mane… and her ayes a tad blaadshat, but she trusted she was beautifaal.

Taking another slaarp off her glass of dark red clarat wine —her faarth? she had lost count…— she sighed remembering the gaad old days. Not that she missed her dazen of previaas hubbas, nah.

She was comfartable tonight. Orok the building manager, one had to concede it to him, had decided to heat the building earlier this year, due to the falling temperatures, and it was all very warm and cosy inside. Traath was, she barely wanted to get out of the building at all, having Fannley order Chaanese faad for her, under the pretaxt to fanish her next novel. But end was never nearly in sight.

Her pablisher, Brackel, was still asking her about her next manuscraapt, and Fannley, the claaning-lady of the office (she only figured out recently that she actually was a ‘she’) was thrawing suspiciaas laaks on her every time they met.

All in all, life laaked almost the same. Not the same without a Lemane quote though.
She opened his last baak at random, laaking for a paarl of wisdam.

I think that’s one of the reason why I don’t really appreciate Xmas, because of that sickening tradobligation of buying crappy stuff, but as long as you’re on facegoat, I can send good karma to you.

“Waw!” What an ideaa, this yeaar, she will send gaad karma to her ex-husbaands.

“Anathar wan!” She couldn’t get her hands aff such profaand baak.

Roger-Y, her pet talking white gaase started to screech frantically “Anathar WAN! Anathar WAN!” making her little fainting mongrats collapse to the flaar.

“pftlabaltloup”: that’s the Samari word for what I wanted to say: it may sound a little dismissive, but it’s pronounced fruit-lab-at-loop. Indeed; ‘fruit’ because the emails like snoot fruits, ‘lab’ for the extraction of the quintessence, and ‘loop’ to keep in loop… And we are complete.

“Waw” She was always struggling to kaap in the laap with all her characters; naw, that was something to consider, as she was Samari belonging herself, not at all Vaaldish like her mather. Gad forbads.

Sanso job apparently facility times (ahah!)
tree late awareness completely
managed Liz lost focus feeling (oops, did I confuse Tracy with the last Oohs and oohs?)
next Balbina window busy writing (okay, keep that in mind )
suddenly escape

Georges and Salome’s journal

From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 4)

Legends of the past can tell you a lot more on the present than what sometimes is actually revealed by present events. I discovered the truth of this statement when we arrived with Cil at the capital of Tùrmk. As Cil was discussing with officials of the Turmaki Gatherings, I was offered to go to their House of Remembrance. It was, I gathered, a sort of physical repository of the knowledge of the Turmaki that would allow me to bridge the gap of my abysmal ignorance of their history.

I was only barely starting to understand the odds of the physical configurations of space in this dimension, and I was nonetheless more than eager to add history to my previous geography lessons.
Turmaki are living in a sort of interesting land forming a sort of circle at the centre of which lies the most beautiful sea I have ever seen, with a very subtle and vivid shade of deep indigo blue. Most of Turmakis’ activity was directed inward of the circle, and the outer sea wasn’t a matter of interest to them. Later at the House of Remembrance, I learned that there had been an agreement in the past with the other sentient races to not mingle, so even if there was not physical barrier, all they focused their attention upon was their land, and theirs only.
Their Capital City, Tùrmk, may probably be seen as a very rudimentary city by all Earth-biased accounts. However, at that time, I had not really seen much of the Earth to be blasée anyway, so I was quite receptive to the beauty of its simplicity. It was located at the foremost point of an inner peninsula known as the Nirgual’s Head, facing twelve beautiful islands on which sacred temples had been erected.

My fascination for the beauty of these islands led me to discover more about their significance. In the House of Remembrance, a similar structure of twelve doors led me to learn that the twelve families held significance even here and throughout Alienor as well. Representatives of the families were chosen among the Guardians, as I remembered Georges had discovered and interestingly some of them had had quite an influence upon the history of the various people of Alienor. I couldn’t really trace it back to tangible proofs, but as I said, some legends are quite telling — thus corroborating Cil’s earlier statements.

I have not much time left to start telling them now, but I will probably tell more about the Legends of the Six ‘Fudjàhs’ —or Power Objects.

(Part 3)

It wasn’t very difficult for Akita to have the door opened. Having Kay roam unnoticed in the rooms and corridors next to his cell made things very easy actually, giving him enough time to do his things.
He’d known the art of lock-picking since he was a child, and he would have been able to open that door’s latch blindfolded, hands tied behind his back, with only his big toe and dental floss… so old this one was.

So in a few minutes he was out; a few minutes later, he had found a proper military outfit in the lockers, Kay had been giving him the codes of, and as everyone was gone for the lunch break, the whole area was deserted.

The greenhouse room was open, and a blinding light was pouring into it.

“You didn’t tell me what made these watermelons special” Akita turned to the phantom dog.

“Why don’t you have a try by yourself… Take a little one over there, and throw it on the opposite wall”

Akita did as instructed, then backed off quickly blown off by the explosion .

“Watermelbombs? are you kidding?”

“Not really; it’s sad, but people have done lots of researches here to produce bio-degradable weapons easily grown. I think it wasn’t a coincidence you and the others have been brought here”

“The others? You mean… Oh sh*t, I forgot the ladies, don’t tell me they’re still here?”

“Yep, they are here. And they’re quite ready to fight for their survival too, believe it or not”

“Oh, I don’t have any trouble seeing them as fierce warriors!”

“Barry the White Bear is the last person having seen Arky the missing Aardvark “ Mlle Mongoose reported back to the team of worried animals.

“And did he say anything more?” Angela Goose asked, interrupting busy-looking Mlle Mongoose in mid-sentence.

“Well, if you’d let the Director speak, perhaps we could hear what she knows” said Freaky the Ferret.
“Don’t be zo mean to Angelipooh” Jobby the Hippo said compassionately “You know poor Angie is zo buzzy with Baba Yolanda coming over”
“Who?” asked Weirdy the Weasel distractedly
“Baba Yolanda the Loon !” answered Angela with a hint of exasperation “You’re not paying attention my dear? I told you ages ago she’d be coming this week to the Zoo to spend her winter here… I figure it’s getting too difficult for her in the wild given her age.”
“Well, I hope it’ll be better this time; last time she came, she left you in a pretty bad shape, it took us months to get you back on your feet. It should be time for her to get over that old ugly-duckling complex…”

“Ahem”, managed to say Mlle Mongoose who was however following the discussion with great interest
She continued “As far as Arky is concerned, perhaps you should go see him yourselves. You’ll probably get more from Barry White than I did; He’s bearing the management a grudge since we decided to raise the temperature of his room because everybody around was catching colds after colds.”

“Oh, great… my time of hitting the spotlight has finally come, and I’m stuck with dear ol’ Baba Yolanda” sighed Angela Goose.

Georges and Salome’s journal

From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 3)

Cil and I have stayed on the Murtuane longer than was required for the report on the events occurring here. Though it was not required, it proved invaluable for me to gather much information on both the planet itself, but more important, on the interconnections with the other planets and the Guardians themselves.

A pivotal point in this exploratory mission was the impressive encounter with one of the few still focused Nirguals of this dimension. N’meôrl, as he introduced himself to us, out of concern for the current events came to contact Cil despite his looking askance at the Guardians on the whole.
As it appears to be, due to their acute awareness of how energy can be manipulated to create one’s own reality, some of the Guardians became to view themselves as superior in knowledge and skills as to the other conscious creatures roaming on this dimension —most of whom already having far more understanding of things deemed “magical” in my own earthly dimension of origin. However, viewing themselves as such (though by no means the standards in the Guardians societies) had them manipulate some of these others; mostly to entertain themselves or to experiment, without concern as to the others’ reactions.

Frown upon by many Guardians, this practice was tolerated notwithstanding, and had created a few pockets of what the Guardians called “slaves”. Inquiring to Cil as to how people with such thin veils between their subjective creative source and the objective realizations could become “slaves” to others, she had struggled a bit to explain to me at first. Allowing her to reach into my awareness for associations or analogies with similar energetic displays, she surprised me —surprised is even a mild word for my initial reaction— by telling me it was the same as our religions. Struggling initially to understand her point, I find myself, if not entirely agreeing with it, at least being able to explain what she meant by that. To her, people were ultimately free unless they themselves were tricked into bondage. But bondage could be of various nature, and she continued to explain, physical bondage was the less efficient of all. “Guidance”, on the opposite, with the proper construction of suggestions and beliefs, could yield very efficient results.
So, those “rogue” Guardians were nothing else but priests? The difference between this association and Cil’s distaste for them seemed too strong. Perhaps I would have to reassess my own beliefs.

So, apparently some of these Guardians had been responsible for disturbances. Cil seemed to understand that something grave was happening, but when she tried to explain to me, once again words or clusters of thoughts seemed to fail her. She found in my memory some analogy which seemed again quite besides the point, though very intriguing.
She said it was similar to what our medicine men were doing with their needles. She probably had reached into my memories of traditional acupuncture medicine. She went on to compare the planets as a single body, with bumps and hollows in energy; usually, the body knows how to harmoniously balance both of these, and a bump can reflect into a hollow and vice-versa. Sometimes, when people create illnesses, the practitioner will move these to help. But something else was happening here: the flow was artificially changed, she said.
“What was the point in that?” I asked. She pondered for a moment, then answered without judgment that it was probably for the sake of the experience.
“The Nirgual is mostly warning us that this experience may not lead to an equilibrium before long. That it may profoundly modify the energy on the planets, and not for the better. The Murtuane and its Turmak people have mostly had a stabilizing impact on the very energetic events happening on the Duane. Modifying this could quickly take things out of our hands” she said worriedly.

Arona was fretting.

“Now, what is this all about? Can someone explain me? The purple sand is pretty, the green sky too, however it looks just like an insane dream from a deranged mind having abused smoke of robjane leaves.”

Framing Irtak —who was having a funny pout on his face— the dragons Heckle and Jeckle were too busy considering with an amused attention the new form and energy field that their progenitor had taken.

No words were spoken to answer Arona’s plea for answers, but answers were starting to come to them in the form of a bundle of energy which would be difficult to translate in a linear manner.

They started to understand a few things. That for one, N’meôrl the Nirgual was not here by chance, at this place and time. Again, they had travelled far in the past of the history of their dimension, and events of great importance were in motion, that they were given to witness.

At first, the flow of information they were having was like a stream they thought they had no control of, but as questions were forming they noticed that it was altering the flow which was then encompassing the answers to those questions.

Like when Jeckle wondered if he and his twin had big birdies counterparts like this one to merge with, and got the following answer “No. For you are quite new essences fragments, and thus do not yet hold focuses in similar extent to your progenitor.”

Arona was quite pleased by this new mode of getting answers, especially as she could visibly get the answers she was genuinely looking for, not those coming from questions she was only remotely interested in.

N’meôrl was showing them also, that unlike him, they were not quite physically focused into that environment, and were not noticed by the small surrounding creatures like the little red scrabs crawling in the sand. They were mainly there to observe and draw their own conclusions, as soon some events would occur.

As they’d finished absorbing the information, they started to notice a feeling of expectation in the air. N’meôrl conveyed to them that they would have to stay quiet in his peripheral awareness for “they” were coming, and he was on a delicate mission.

Footsteps on the beach.
A man approaching. He looks like Irtak and Arona, as if he had just come into this alien world from the same door they had taken. But he fails to notice them.

He stays, facing the deep green waters of the ocean brushing the shore, as if expecting someone.

A strange buzz starts to fill the space. A point of focused light the size of a pinhole appears in front of him, expands quickly with an elastic quality, and pops with a soft sound, revealing an improbably tall figure under a cloak.

The man greets the new-comer with deference
“Master Sinadron”
“Jarvis, my good friend.”

They start to walk on the beach at the unspoken invitation of the one with the smooth voice named Sinadron.

“So, I’ve been told our little matter is going very well.”
“Yes, very well, Master; I am deeply grateful for your intervention; without your help I’ve been told, my dear would not have been allowed to…”
“Let’s not talk of such things any longer; it was such a delight to help two sweet young souls so deeply in love”

Somehow, despite the words of kindness which are slithering with ease, the invisible witness got the uncanny feeling that they are but a deceptive fragment of the truth.

“Now. Tell me”, the one named Sinadron continues in a mellifluous voice “Why have you called me for?”
“The settlement you have suggested us to start on this land…”
“Yes, I am aware, please go to the point instead of labouring things I am well aware of.” The voice had sharpened a bit.
“I am sorry Master.”
“Continue”
“There is a growing dissent that…”
“And from who that shall come?”
“Err… I hear Pelorus has spoken to the Zentauras…”
“Pelorus is but a nuisance.” The voice wasn’t asking for contradiction, though an imperceptible grin was floating on the half-hidden face.
He continued “But I shall help you, once again”
“Master, you are too generous…”
“Let me finish. I will provide you with more men and women, willing to start a new life under your command, to help you grow your settlement. There are a few slaves on the Duane, that place from where you come who will do great.”
“Master…”
“They will be there in an hexade. Make sure you stand your ground until then, even if that means confronting those nasty Zentauras.”

And without waiting for the confused thanks, he disappeared, grinning widely.

Inside the cave Malvina was considering to move again.

She couldn’t help but giggle softly at the thought of Arona fulminating at how restless that dragon of hers was. To tell the truth, she was one of high restlessness too. And her dragon, and his offspring were most of the time merely resonating to her high energy. Otherwise, they would be too happy to be left alone to dream in a corner of a cave glowing of glukenitch lights.

Now, she had to wait for Leormn’s return from his little vacation to be able to move swiftly. Granted she could do it alone, but it would be so tedious, with all those eggs hidden in various places. Perhaps she could do with a little vacationing herself. She was thinking, Georges and Salome would be certainly glad to take care of the cave in her absence, and of her guests.

She would go see them; she loved the little Ugling who was growing so fast he would now run in many places and ask funny questions. Vincentius (with the grumpy cat perched on his large shoulders out of reach from the bullying little one) was teaching him lots of things on the vegetation (mostly fungus and lichens inside) and on geology that the boy was eager to learn, with an unmistakable affinity for rocks though. He would be quick to learn how to summon the rock’s consciousness for many purposes.

She almost got lost in the tunnels again. “Someone should get those indications straight, dammit!” she swore as she entered a dead-end. A few turns right, and another left, and she was in front of the painted wall with the ‘PEACE OFF’ painted door. So that’s where they went… the door was visibly shut now…
A nearby snort suddenly caught her attention.

“Buckberry? What are you doing here little precious; hasn’t Arona taken you with her? Well, silly me, obviously not.” She added, seeing the floor covered with crushed buckberries juice. “Awww, you don’t even have the appetite for your cherished buckberries…”

Malvina knew of course that it wasn’t the closed door that kept Buckberry here, as he most probably could go wherever Arona was, if she summoned him properly, but it was rather the fact she had left without notice. Malvina laughed heartily “Aahaha, don’t be soft Buckie, she’s probably been tricked by your daddie and your little buggers of brothers, but she’ll come back…”

Balbina had had a quite difficult week. Feeling cold, having trouble to find sleep, not even speaking of being unable to do the kind of out-of-body travel she had managed to do last time.
She was almost starting to doubt she could redo it again.

Of course, the relocation at her son’s cottage was a source of much change in her habits, and although he wasn’t at home most of time, she wasn’t really feeling like she was ‘at home’. Strangest thing really, as for the time she was at the hospice she wasn’t feeling as much an alien as in this cottage. At least, at the hospice, she was in a sort of neutral environment, some place where she wasn’t undesirable (would it be asking for too much to actually be desirable at her age?). Here, the environment wasn’t neutral at all; everywhere everything reminded her of her son: his books, the posters, even the dust on the coffee table was almost looking as though it was his own.

So she had to adjust. Contort her energy to fit —to crumple herself!— into this place, as it would be likely she would spend quite some time here. She wasn’t asking for much really, as she wasn’t able to move from the bed he’d had installed in the spare room. Ghastly room, with a creepy wallpaper from a has-been era of the past days, year 2000 or close she’d guess, gaudy as it was… oriented to the south, with hardly bearable heat during the day. She would have loved to see the coast on the north, but instead, the only window was showing her the shade of the trees, and that ominous alligator-green mountain just behind.

If she couldn’t project in her dreams as she managed to do before, she would soon either die of boredom or of heat. She wasn’t too sure which one would be the most painless and efficient.

She pushed the button to have her bed roll a little closer to the window; once straightened up a bit, she was able to see the passageway to the mountain. She couldn’t explain why she didn’t like this mountain; it was quite beautiful; perhaps she feared to be lost and abandoned. All the more since she could feel so much presence in this environment. Unseen presence, and trickster ones too.

She was tired, and yawned so much her tense jaw’s muscles ached.

On the emerald path to the forest, a moving teal wisp of light caught her attention. Funny plays of light at this hour of the day. But the wisp was persistent, and it started to move towards her.

“Good day Balbina!”

The crazy rabbit was back again. And… she was sleeping? In or out?

“In or out, smell my foot, it’s your choice, and matters not
but be quick, and come forth, for Anita and her folks this wicked way come!”

“The tune is set, the tunnel is close
Of playfulness you’ll need a hefty dose”

The whole week had been flying over his heads. Last Sunday, they had come back with Sam from their trip on the Floridisles, and though his body was a bit aching from the trip on the still young flight company of Yurailli Airlines, Al’s head was still swimming in the clear blue waters with the dolphins and sea dragons a soft music running in his head like a young unworried boy on the shore.

The return to New Venice was such a difference in energy that it took him a shocking cold to re-adapt. Not that he couldn’t have done without the cold, but he had chosen to allow it, for many reasons. For one, it was very self-centering, and also the more he allowed it, contrary to what people would think, the quicker it healed.

Lots of things had happened in New Venice during their little adventure in the South, and there was lots to do to keep the pace. So much difference with the peaceful silent world of the cetaceans… Not even much time to update the Reality Play which almost had gone into hibernating mode, had it not been Becky’s occasional funny entries and syncs.

Nevertheless, Al could feel that the peace of the dolphins and sea dragons had touched him on more than just the surface level. For once, he wasn’t even worried about Tina now; he could feel her discrete but present energy was strong, even though she was going onto a difficult transitional path of her own.