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  • #3431

    Jeremy’s landing was confusing. He’d been lost in an emptiness —for God’s know how long— where it seemed there was no rule at all. He couldn’t see his body, nor feel it, which was somewhat disturbing for a dancer. He’d tried to speak but there was no mouth to produce sound. He should have been afraid, but there was no body in which to feel fear. Though he could certainly feel the presence of Max. They were kind of merged together, which was a bit confusing as he experienced the desire to lick his fur, stretched his body and curl his tail. The cat seemed content, which also helped Jeremy focus and relax even if there was no body to relax.

    Then life sprang to him like a sausage. The association startled him for a moment, it was part of the minute mental and psychological adjustment to this new environment. His sense of hearing came back first. At first he heard round spitting sounds and red voices. Then it sounded more like human voices.

    “Can’t you give him a blanket, he’s naked. Maybe your cape Arona”, said a woman’s voice.
    “I think I have something in my bag that could suit him”, said a man.
    “What don’t you have in your bag.”

    When his eyes could see, he saw orange strokes in the sky as if it was burning. He suddenly felt nauseous. Yep, no doubt he had reintegrated his body. He sat up straight, and gagged.

    “He’s awake!”

    Jeremy couldn’t decide if he was indeed awake or merely dreaming. The girl who had just talked looked quite green, and an angel was getting clothes out of a leather bag while Max was trying to befriend another cat busy talking with a girl in a cape. That’s when he saw the robot and a blond woman with fizzy hair. The name Irina popped into his head.

    He tried to calm down with the breathing exercises he’d learned in his yoga class. The ruins of what looked like an ancient Mayan pyramid with Greek columns floating in the sky didn’t help.

    “His vitals indicate confusion. Nonetheless, he’s recovering quickly from the transfer, Madam”, said Mr R.

    #3428
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “But Mother, she is vile and hateful, you wouldn’t believe the things she makes us do, it’s not fun anymore!”
      “Well you know what they say, Cedric, if it’s not fun don’t do it. Although,” his mother added, “You are a bit lacking in discipline.”
      “That’s like a contradiction in terms! It doesn’t make any sense!”
      “Life’s like that” was the rather pointless reply. “When are you coming to visit me?” she started the usual whining. “All your life I’ve been crossing the oceans to come and see you, but you wouldn’t cross a puddle for me, your poor old mum.”
      Cedric could feel his stomach knotting.
      “But Mum, I can’t leave now, I’d be letting the others down, I can’t leave them here on their own with that prune faced troll.”
      “I see,” replied his mother, sniffing pathetically, “I know where I stand. Don’t you bother about your poor old mum, you have fun and don’t worry about me, I’ll manage somehow.”
      “I just told you I wasn’t having fun, you…you….” but Cedric couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not to his mother. But he thought it, and his stomach twisted painfully.
      Cedric spent the rest of the day trapped in the mental justifying conversation he was having in his head; the energy he was beaming out unwittingly encouraged the dwarf to single him out, adding to his misery.
      Cedric was trapped between the rock of his responsibility to his mother, and the hard place of Anna Purrna’s cane.

      #3419

      “There!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      #3400

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

      #3394

      King Artie had decided he would be George. That would be his adventurer’s identity, his nom de plume (if he ever gets out of his adventure alive and manages to write novels out of it, that is).

      He’d packed in a hurry, taking advantage of the guards’ shift at midday to disappear from the castle unnoticed.
      The bag full of his stone collection was getting heavy under the sun, and the exertion took his toll and dulled his usually quick reflexes so that he was taken by surprise when the girl grabbed him. A strong woman… Now he was smitten.

      He’d noticed her leaving under the most peculiar of cloaks, taking her at first for a male adventurer —he had assumed being followed by a stray cat meant it was a fish-smelly adventurer too. Her gait sure wasn’t very feminine, but her face was pretty; even prettier when she looked angry was something he would have loved to tell her if she’d given him the chance.

      He chose to ignore her last remark and continue to discreetly follow her. She knew her way around, and seemed headed out of town. At least she was a better bet than being under the thumb of the P’hope’s minions.

      #3378

      Elephants are not used to jump out of planes with a parachute in our reality. So when Lisa noticed a growing shadow around them. She raised her head and it took some time for her to make sense of what she was looking at. The huge grey butt of an elephant approaching relatively fast, desperately eager to establish contact.

      It landed on Sanso who knocked by the shock fall into the bog. Now; there are certain chemicals in the bog that induce the hibernation process in a physical body. Sanso reacted to it quickly, blinked out of the island and found himself in a stasis between worlds.

      “Sorry”, seemed to say the elephant with the cry elephants usually do. Then, it disappeared.

      The three lone travelers looked at each other, feeling deeply lost.

      :fleuron:

      Jube the Brave was having fun, playing his mass belief organ like a jazz musician.

      #3374
      Jib
      Participant

        Amber Graystone was dead. Killed by a bunch of masked men. Linda Pol would be dead also if it weren’t for Mr Graystone, whatever his firstname was. That man knows how to use his gun, she thought. Too bad he was caught by surprise. He managed to kill the three men before they could hurt anybody, but it seemed they had gotten to their main target anyway.

        “They tried a car incident, poison. I thought I could protect her”, the man was holding his wife, tears in his voice. She had been shot in the head. One clean wound meant to kill. Linda Pol didn’t want to state the obvious, they were professionals. A vibration in her purse signaled a message on her e-zapper.

        Sorry for the glitch. It seems the Chinese have found a way to cloak themselves from our surveillance. Retrieve the data from the husband. The Management
        The queen began to wonder if they were the network management after all. Why would a TV network have a surveillance system and warn them about the Chinese ? Why would they send her meet a random scientist in Hawai’i ?

        While Mr Graystone was grieving his wife, Linda Pol took the liberty to remove the masks of the dead squad. The Chinese indeed. Nothing that could be useful, they all looked the same for her.

        She received another message.
        Move quick. Others are coming. The Management

        “You know”, she said aloud, “I think we should move.”
        “I can’t leave my wife here.”
        “I know, sweetie. But I think she’s already gone. And I fear those men are not be the only ones after your wife’s secret. Do you have any idea how we can get out discretly ?”

        A buzz from her e-zapper told her she just got her answer.

        #3365
        Jib
        Participant

          The room numbers were framed in a golden disc carved with what looked like zodiac animals and a circle of eights.

          Linda observed the man walking in front of her. As soon as the effects of the lust gas had dissipated, she had been able to focus on something else than his butt. He’d been watching over his shoulder, and it was not to see if she was keeping with his pace. He had been frowning ever since she’d met him, and you could say his whole attitude exuded wariness. Despite her Happiness Training and the meditation practice at night with Sadie, she was beginning to feel some bowel tension. Not good for her digestion.

          He stopped in front of room 57. He knocked, didn’t wait for an answer, instead used his magnetic key to open it, and entered. She followed. He looked one last time on both sides of the corridor, then locked the door.

          They were in a big yellow lounge. Linda addressed a silent prayer to the Good Taste Goddess, sympathizing with the pain She must have endured each time an interior designer had expressed such lack of sobriety. It wasn’t just the color. The furniture seemed to come from Hart to Hart, except the sofa was in a dark yellow leather, and the cushions in a bright magenta.

          “Wait here ‘till I call you”, he said. He left through a door on the right, taking his frown with him.
          Linda heard him talk to someone in the other room, certainly a bedroom. A feminine voice answered him. They argued for some time. The woman was the last to speak. Then the silence.

          Linda hesitated to seat on a jumping armchair with yellow and brown stripes. It was as if every cell of her body, and even the molecules of her clothes were repelled by the choices of the interior designer. She would have sworn her platform shoes were trying to levitate from the carpet.

          The man’s head appeared at the door.
          “Come in, she’s ready to see you.”

          Linda could see emotions struggle on his face.

          “But I warn you”, he said, his fists clenched, “she’s been sick since we have arrived. If my wife is tired, I’ll ask you to leave.”

          “Oh!” Linda said.

          #3357

          When Irina, with Mr R and Greenie in tow, approached the spot where the robot had detected activity, she had a lurching sense in her stomach that something strange was about to happen.

          Some buzzing seemed to approach and leave, like a wobbling effect in the air around them, although she could see nothing.
          Mr R, with its caterpillar boots seemed to have to trouble moving ahead, but with a silent sign of her hand, had him slow the pace down and move more silently.

          A cracking sound, and she turned around.
          A woman with a shotgun pointed at her was there, and a guy with handsome features. Caught unaware, Irina froze, and closed her eyes, trying to reach some inner peace before the imminent gunshot.

          “Madam? Are you alright?” came Mr R’s soothing voice. Next to her, Greenie was drawing on her pants, with a concerned look on her face.

          She opened her eyes, confused and relieved. The odd couple of hunters seemed to have vanished. Yet, she could have sworn hearing a gunshot and the blood of a giant mosquito splatter all around.
          She could as well have dreamt all awake, as there were not a single trace around to back her vision.

          “That’s what it is then…” Irina started to realize something. “Mr R, if you will, what about those presence you detected earlier?”
          “Gone Madam, it seemed to have been a glitch.”
          “A glitch, yes…” she said pensively. “Or something else…”

          The things she’d just experience reminded Irina about some of the things she’d read in the past about the Bardo state of the Buddhists. She wasn’t a Buddhist, more a Realist ascendant Romantic. Yet, they made some interesting points about the nature of reality.
          Usually, Irina was the kind of girl who liked to work up to her goals’ achievements. Building the little place for herself, even if mostly the work of Mr R, was a good example. Give her enough time, and she would always find resources to make a better life for herself. But here, it seemed beside the point. It could well be an endless loop.

          She wanted to pierce the veil that surrounded the place, instead of erring in the fog of her own projections. She looked at Greenie and Mr R. She wasn’t sure they were real any longer, even if she had sure grown fond of them. She would see…

          Now, how to get this island to reveal its secrets… As much as she found it boring, prayer or meditation seemed to be the only solution she could come up with for now. Less fond of the first solution, she chose the second and sat cross-legged on a mossy patch of the bog, where the sound of water seemed to have the right qualities.

          #3353

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

          #3349
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The Continuing Adventures of the Three Time Traveling Maids From Versailles.

            The three maids, Fanella (previously known, briefly, as Fanetta), Mirabelle, and Adeline and the three time travelling Russian stage hands, Igor Popinkin, Boris and Ivan, leave Paris in the 18th century via hot air balloon, heading for the Tower of Hercules on the Galician Coast, with Mirabelle’s parrot. Sporadically they are assisted by Pseu Dan, a cross between a sort of oversoul 8 and a future focus with cloaking abilities and other skills, who tends to be unreliable due to a fixation on building a folly of tiles in the City.
            After a series of mishaps attempting to board the ghost galleon of Belen, an Amazonian shapeshifting timetravelling pink dolphin pod comes to their rescue, and they find themselves washed up on a beach near the Pillars of Hercules (Spanish side) in the year 2020 and are found by Lisa, a middle aged Englishwoman. She takes the six timetravellers back to her village, an experimental new kind of community in the orange groves not far from the beach.
            Jack is Lisa’s partner, and other inhabitants of the village include Etienne and Pierre.

            Mirabelle and Igor continue an on/off tempestuous affair, Mirabelle often considering Igor (somewhat unfairly) a feckless whoremongering cretin. Igor considers himself to be an average adventurous funloving young man willing to explore new opportunities.
            Mirabelle, once considered to be the bossiest of the three maids, finds she has no need to control the others in the absence of the responsibilities of working long hours for others at Versaille. Initially she struggled with learning the new languages, but was easily diverted from the worry and thus learned with ease, after the unexpected trip to Portugal (looking for the stolen whale tile) with Lisa. Lisa finds herself strangely attracted to Mirabelle while under the influence of sangria.

            Adeline settled into the new timeframe by pursuing her fascination with the unfamiliar multitude of coloured plastic objects, making them into sculptures. She and Boris have an easy ongoing friendship; Boris and Ivan settle into life at the village by taking an interest in car and tractor mechanics and farming, and digital photography.

            Fanella was the most unsettled, yearning to return to the familiar hometimezone in Versaille. She found peace in solitude outside in natural surroundings, often practicing teleporting and projecting by the river or in the woods. She rediscovers her adventurous spirit after a series of teleport and time travelling mishaps. Her unexpected meeting with Sanso in the Great Fire of London in 1212 starts another chain of teleport and timetravel adventures, as she is now determined to reach the island in 2121 that she read about in an old book of Lisa’s called Circle of Eights and Other Stories.

            #3343

            King Artie yawned, sitting in a slumped posture in the throne room, where the mother-of-pearl columns were shining with the morning light’s long shadows.
            As usual it was empty at this early hour of the day, and he was supposed to have a his weekly review with the castle’s chamberlain.

            The chamberlain was a little stunted man, with some missing knuckles on his left hand and a broad unwavering smile firmly planted on a big round head with large ears, no matter the topic of discussion.

            “Shall we commence, your Majesty?”
            “Whatever…” The King was still hungover from the last night’s party and the voice was ringing unpleasantly in his ears.
            “To make it short, I’ve narrowed down the topics to a few.
            “Very well…”
            “Firstly, shall we talk of the new comers on our lovely island of Abalone?”
            “yes, how come I haven’t met them already?”
            “Well, they are still adjusting, you know how Abalone’s magic works… Power of positive anticipation, etc. it takes a while to adjust and discover the city, a lot of people never get around it without some help actually, depending on how permeable their current worldview’s beliefs are…”
            “Well, keep me posted when they get there.”
            “Very well, Sire. And… on the topic of finding you a Queen…?”

            #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.”

            #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…

            #3314

            Fanella gazed into the dying flames of the campfire, while her toasted cheese cooled. “2121, here I come!” she said in a confident sounding voice, but she shivered in apprehension. 2121, 2121, she repeated, watching the flames, 21 21 12, 21 12 12 1212….21 12…1212…. her eyes were getting heavy and she started to drift off. Is that a tractor coming up the beach? she wondered, Or a motorbike? The very ground was starting to rumble and vibrate.
            Suddenly she was wide awake, and the the flames were towering over her head. The heat was blistering and her head was filled with roaring sounds, and hissing snapping cracks. As she was standing there trying to make sense of her surroundings, someone slammed into her from behind, making her legs buckle ~ there were people running in all directions, carrying babies or buckets of water, portraits or small wooden chests or squalking chickens. It was mayhem in the narrow alleys between the burning houses, showers of sparks and choking blasts, ear splitting shrieks and blood curdling howls assaulted all her senses, as she spun around looking for a way out of this appalling scene.
            “Surely this isn’t the island in 2121!” she exclaimed in anguish. “But if it isn’t then where am I? And when?”
            “This is Southwark, wench, and I can’t believe we’re having another Great Fire already” replied a man in an arousing blue codpeice who was running along beside her. “If you want to get out of here alive, follow me!”
            Fanella was not in the habit of running after strange men, but she couldn’t take her eyes off that gorgeous blue codpiece.

            #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.

            #3298

            “Good time for a segment of refreshment” was Sanso’s words of goodbye, as he left them retching sea water out of their system, and taking welcome gulps of air in the fresh cave of la Sormiou, just a few knots off Marseille’s harbour.

            Linda Paul was impatiently chain-smoking outside while waiting for them near the dildo-truck, excited for a follow-up confidence sequence about the last show.
            In truth, she would have loved to lead them herself in their adventures, but despite her saying the contrary, had chickened out at the last minute. A few months ago, the show’s had moved away from the initial pitch which was supposed to have only her as the main cast and star. It then shifted into the broadcast pilot with the other junior queens competition.
            Her personal guru, Ganeshki had told her it had to do with beliefs of ageing, and she would have plucked his eyelashes out of his head. That was no thing to say to a lady.
            But then, he was a bit right.
            She crushed the butt under her high-heels. Nasty habit.
            Not the butts, she tittered at the thought, but the chain-smoking. A fucking lot of beliefs with it too, she didn’t need Ganeshki to realise it.

            At last, they all emerged, not looking particularly good, even if she noticed the effort to puff out their wet wigs.

            “Oh, honey, is that kelp in your wig?” she disdainfully picked up a bit of algae from Terry’s hair. “Well, you all look…” she searched for words and broadened her smile “smashing!”.

            “Sadie, honey, you did such a marvellous job”. She leaned closer lowering her voice to confide “That wasn’t a piece of cake, I will give you that”

            “Well, Linda, now you mention it, I’d like a raise. And less working hours.”

            #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?”

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