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  • #3477

    “We’re going under water, Mandrake, you’re sure you don’t need a suit?” Arona asked her cat.

    All she needed was his permission to manifest a scuba diving suit for the cat, but the cat was putting on a brave face, and refused altogether.

    “Well then, maybe you want to accompany me under a diving bell, I’m not too reassured on my on” she said with a sweet voice. Reverse psychology always worked with this one.

    In no time, they were looking at the underwater cavebed, following the directions of the sabulmantium. The dragon egg enclosing the coloured sand seemed to shield them from the strange effects of the cave, and project fleeting images around the glass bell. Derelict places full of mould and cobwebs, alien places and animals.
    Arona resisted being drawn by the images. Her years of living with dragons had taught her to navigate through illusions. That was then that she saw it.
    The graceful turtle, silently swimming in front of them, in a curved line up and down, up and down. It was big, much bigger than Mandrake, but in no hurry to get there, wherever there was.

    Arona, do you hear that?” Mandrake’s voice was distant, and the sound of alarm was faint and muffled. “Aronaaaa!”

    The impact of the rocks shattered the glass bell in millions of small pieces, that went floating like a wave of particles on the wind. Arona and Mandrake, in the big turtle’s wake were propelled through a narrow gurgling exit of the water that flushed them out of the cave into the thundering noise of a cascade.

    Struggling with the current at first, Arona managed to let go, and finally emerged with her cat held firmly by the scruff of its neck. The current sent them on the shore of the pool of crystalline blue waters. In the middle of the pool, she could see the Cup, placed on a red cushion, surrounded by the mist of the waterfall, and glowing a vivid radiant light.

    It all seems so easy… Arona was already wet, and the Cup was so close.

    “Not so feeest, milady”
    She had not seen the man emerge from the shadows of the cliffs. He was looking relatively harmless, but had a wild eye and a vagrant’s appearance.

    “Leave me alone, old man.” was all she wanted to tell him. But for someone to be here, of all places, it had to mean something, and she’d better find it out using tact and diplomacy.

    “Good day sir, may I inquire what you are doing here?”
    “Fer sure, Ey em the Fisher Count but ye can call me Reney.”
    “Mmm, I’ve heard about you. So you are real after all.”
    “Indeed Ey em, quite real, huhu.”
    DON’T!” Arona and Mandrake shouted almost at the same time… too late, as the blinking parrot reappeared, flying over them and shrieking “HU HU, FUCK FUCK, HU HU.”

    “I meant,… DON’T mind the blasted parrot, it’ll go away eventually. It must have a fleck of Sanso, I’m sure.” Arona said, matter-of-factly. “Now, what do I need to do to get to drink from the Cup, dear Sir?” she continued with the best composed smile she could.

    “Oh, et is veeely easy, vely vely easy. Ye just need to esk nicely, and as ye already did, there ye go.”

    Suspicion and doubts started to come back, as it all seemed much too easy. “What will happen when I drink from it? Will I be able to astral?”

    “Oh well, Ey don’t know fer sure, Ey think it is just a nice decoration, but if ye believe herd enough, enything es possible.”

    Mandrake,” she turned to the cat “let’s go do some astralling.”

    #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.

    #3426

    The Chamberlain was out of options. He couldn’t hide the truth any longer to the P’hope, and had requested an appointment with His P’holiness.

    “My dear Downson, what brings you?” the P’hope’s voice was unusually cheery. They both never seen eye to eye, and had an honest and enduring dislike of each other, however they always had put on a façade of politeness and silky manners.
    “My dear P’hope, I have a confession to make.”

    Suddenly, the P’hope’s hawk eye tensed and looked straight and deep into the Chamberlain’s eyes.
    “Is something troubling you Downson? Spit it out, it will leave you more time to repent.”
    “The King’s missing.”
    “What? Are you sure you didn’t just lose him in the tavern or some other place of holy debauchery?”
    “I wouldn’t have troubled you without being absolutely certain.”
    “This is indeed a grave matter. You know how the King is an important figure for the stability of this City. How long has he been missing?”
    “Three days already. I fear he may have gone out of the City. Before leaving he’d mentioned going to the beanstalk.”
    “Folly! How could you let that happen!” The P’hope raised from his chair and started to pace around restlessly.

    “With that and the beanstalk crumbling down, I cannot help but see some cause and effect, my dear Downson. Of course, it would be heretic to leave the good people in such turmoil without taking swift and firm action. It seems the Divine calls for a change of leadership, my dear Downson.”

    #3408

    Lisa awoke first, sticky with sweat. Quietly, she jiggled her leg which was dead from lack of circulation, letting the others sleep. There may not be much time for rest, she reasoned, we know not what the next chapter will bring, or where it will lead. She closed her eyes again, and contemplated the feeling of restriction, thinking about other times when she had felt restricted or blocked.

    There was that time when she joined the creative collaberative writing group many years ago, with the intention of developing a free flow of inspiration and imagination. Indeed that was what the advertising bumph had professed, that it was to assist people to release themselves from their writers blocks, unleash their imaginative potential, free their souls to express themselves unhindered by protocol or hidebound tradition. It had all seemed like just the ticket, just what she wanted, and she had dived into the project and gloried in the unexpected things that were born from simply letting the words flow. But then a strange thing started to happen. Every time she went to the class, her contributions were criticized, scoffed at for not following the plan, despite that there was no plan ~ no plan had been mentioned in the small print when she signed up, anyway. But other people had made plans for what she was to write, and it confused her greatly. It was troublesome because the more she enjoyed the process of writing itself, the more discouraging the group became with it’s constant criticisms of the right way to approach the process. Instead of promoting less restrictions, it was constantly advocating more restrictions, more rules to follow, endlessly complicating it all. What made it all the worse was that she so enjoyed it, looked forward to it, and benefited so much from it. Well, she had used the experience to practice not minding about other peoples opinions and to carry on regardless, not restricting herself to acquiesce to other peoples expectations, exploring her own stories and connecting links and layers with other stories ~ wasn’t that what life was all about? take what you want, and leave the rest? Steer your own ship?

    Her meandering thoughts led her to the words of the old dead guru, Elbutt. Love doesn’t mean liking every comment, he had said, Love means knowing and appreciating the whole story, the whole scenario. It didn’t mean you had to find something likable about each and every role, but to acknowledge and appreciate the whole and that the roles that were played within it were a part of that whole, regardless of whether you liked them or not. That definition of love had made a great deal of sense to Lisa, who was not one to use the love word overmuch.

    A cockroach climbing on her foot distracted Lisa from her thoughts, and she absentmindedly brushed it off. The cockroach was not deterred, and returned to climb on her foot repeatedly until Lisa suddenly remembered Pseu. The cockroach, once it was sure it had Lisa’s attention, scurried out into the courtyard adjoining the Processing department waiting room, stopping on a manhole cover, and then returning to Lisa’s foot, and then returning to the manhole cover.

    “Are we to go down there?” whispered Lisa, pretending to cough as a guard walked past. The cockroach did a pirouette as if to confirm. Lisa furtively looked around. The guard had gone; it was time to wake Ivan and Fanella.

    #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.

    #3382

    The three travelers were not the kind of people to limit themselves to safety and comfort ~ indeed if they had been, Lisa would have stayed in the village, never having met Fanella who would have stayed in Versailles, who never would have met Ivan who would have stayed in Russia. They all had an underlying courage and sense of adventure to be on the island at all. They were not, however, inherently stupid. As they approached the great walls of Gazalbion, they became uneasy. It looked more like a vast open air prison than a welcoming city.
    “I’m not sure about this” Lisa whispered to the others, “Once we’re inside there, how will we get out? It might be a trap.”
    “But you’re always saying we create our own reality Lisa, how can anyone else trap us?”
    asked Fanella.
    “We create being trapped as a reflection of restricting ourselves, that’s how it works. It’s not always black and white. And it’s not always easy to resolve that in a demanding and unsettling situation. It would behoove us to proceed with caution.”
    “That doesn’t sound right Lisa, that doesn’t sound like trust, and you’re always telling us that trust is the key.”
    “And space” added Ivan, “Space is a key, too.”
    “Yeah but what does that mean exactly anyway?”
    “Fucked if I know” replied Ivan.

    Lazuli Galore noticed the hesitation of the travelers, and decided to change tactics. They were only a few hundred meters from the entrance to Gazalbion, and it was starting to look as if the new arrivals would not enter willingly. He dispensed with the elephant form, exploding it into a pack of grey wolves which circled behind the travelers, and chased them into the city.

    “Olution! Olution!” the crowd chanted, for there was always a crowd gathered at the gate to witness new arrivals. “Olution! Olution!”
    Nobody actually knew what the word Olution meant, but they had seen it on tv so many times that they simply repeated it, and the more people that repeated it, the more the frenzy grew.
    “Olution! Olution!” the crowd screamed and Lisa, Fanella and Ivan were surrounded by the people, thousands of them, all covered in colourless grey cement dust, even their hair and faces were a ghastly dusty grey.
    “Now we’re in trouble,” Lisa remarked grimly.

    #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.

      #3370

      She was stroking the black cat who was complained loudly at the unwanted massage, when the messenger arrived at her door.

      “The King’s Chamberlain would like a word… in private” was all the footman had said.

      “Doesn’t look a slight bit suspicious to you?” the cat told her, shaking and licking the human scent off its fur.
      “Of course it does, don’t come if you don’t want to.” She replied smugly, wrapping her cloak around her despite the sizzling sun and the humidity.

      She followed the messenger, wondering what required such discretion.

      “A weighty matter indeed,” Downson said to her when she arrived at the rendezvous point under a vaulted passageway at a point where the sounds were cancelled out and voices could share deepest secrets in all discretion. “The P’hope has spies in many places… And at least I know of him, so he is not even the most dangerous one, I fear…”

      She was not of many words. Seeing that, the Chamberlain’s continued.
      “There are forces at play that conspire against the King’s rule.”
      She couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow.
      “I know what you think, people should be self-governed, but you can see it another way, people’s leaders are also the expression of their beliefs. But never mind the philosophy… You are uniquely talented for a rescue mission.”
      “What do you mean?”
      “You know have powerful allies… tools,… and dragons too, if the tales are true…”
      She tittered softly. The tales were true, all of it except about the dragons being powerful allies for some rescue quest. Dragons were lazy dreamers, or at least the ones she used to know. She replied with magnanimity “Let’s assume I’m the person you need for this mission… What is my compensation for it… And don’t serve me platitudes about the travel being all that matters. That grumpy cat needs to eat.”
      The cat suddenly turned his eyes into the cutest kitty eyes he could do. It would have melted the heart of the most stone-hearted villain in an instant.
      Well played, Mandrake she winked at the cat telepathically.

      “Well, word has it that you are on a quest to astral, and maybe I could help with that.”
      “Continue…”
      “I could arrange an interview with the Fisher Count. As an entrusted Guardian of the Saint Amber Graastral Stone Cup, he could grant you a drink from it.”
      “Tell me more about whomever I’m supposed to rescue?”

      At the sound of footsteps, he stopped, and pushed her towards a column out of sight.

      “Oh, it’s only a cat” the soldier said, continuing his round unaware of the two.

      As soon as the other had left, Downson resumed his talk in hurried tone and quicker sentences.
      “I have good reasons to believe a young girl with great desire to prove herself was sent many years ago to the Fog Abyss as a rite of passage, but she was tricked and left for dead there. The magi who were supposed to protect her only said they had lost her. But something else happened. Last night, one of them came to me full of guilt. He was visited in a dream by an apparition of the young girl and her guardian angel. Something horrible had happened, but she told him she forgave him and that she was alive and well. You need to bring her back to us, and be discrete about it. Somebody wanted her dead and buried, and will stop at nothing to complete the task if they find out she’s alive.”

      Before the Chamberlain left, he turned back and told her:
      “Better be quick to leave, I shall have all that you require prepared for you. And a word of advise… you can trust no one, Arona.”

      #3366

      “I’m rubbish at meditation!” Irina said, opening her eyes after her tenth session in a row.

      Mr R, who’d been waiting for her to come back from her inner trip, was, as usual, quick to dispense soothing encouragements
      “Madam doesn’t give herself enough credit. After all, you have managed to… shall I say… appear this quaint bird.”

      What? Irina looked at the direction Mr R was pointing at. That darn parrot again?!
      Indeed, looking quite puzzled to be on one of the bog’s shrubs, Huhu was tilting, or rather bobbing his heard from left to right in a pendulous and rhythmical fashion, while Greenie was jumping around the shrub eager to catch the colourful beast.

      “Then, that only confirms my suspicions…” she said. She had briefly connected to the bird, just about when she was processing the bleedthrough shotgun attack to bring her thoughts back to clarity. You wish… Sometimes the minds works in endless mysteries; she couldn’t tell why the bird came up in her thoughts, but it was apparently all it needed to appear there.

      #3358

      King Artie was walking in the gardens along with the Chamberlain, on his way for a cooling bath in the rainwater tanks carved below the castle.

      They stopped on the edge of the main courtyard, from which a large part of the land nearby could be seen. Plumes of steam where raising around the areas where the river’s water fell onto the land below. For the palace and the land were built high in the sky, believed to be latched upon an immense lump of earth, raised from the island by the roots of a giant beanstalk.

      King Artie had never ventured outside of the castle. “Tell me Downson, is it true what they say, about that giant beanstalk? I’d like to see it sometime.”
      The Chamberlain replied shaking his knuckle-less hand in the air. “Oh well, Majesty, a trip can be arranged, for certain. It would require some magi to guide us, but it can certainly be done. And of course, yes, it is true. Might not have been the case before, but you know, matter and reality sinks their roots deep into beliefs. Whatever the good people believes is, in fact,… actually true.”

      But King Artie’s mind was already quickly gone to another topic, not being too fond on dwelling on the metaphysical.
      “Any word from Parsifal? Seems to have a unusual high activity of lost souls in the fog down below…”
      “No, your Highness, no word yet from the Royal Sentries. Indeed, there has been unusual activity. Some people, I believe with a very active mind and quite an imagination. We had to ask our Priests to conduct a mass to repair a huge hole that appeared a few days ago.”
      “Good. You should ask them to have the good people pray for some rain too. That damn heat is unbearable.”
      “Of course, Sire. But you know, the good people’s beliefs are fickle, and apart from the farmers, a lot of the townsmen would prefer endless sun and no clouds. Hopefully our dear P’hope Jube the Brave will pray some sense into them.”
      “Indeed. Otherwise, a good fall down the Fog Abyss will sure clean up our mass beliefs of those heretics, I expect.”

      #3356

      When he arrived at the office, it seemed empty at first. It was late, people usually left at around 6PM, and at 7, it looked like the last one to go home had forgotten to turn all the lights off.
      That’s when he arrived at his boss’ office which was the only one without any lights on, that he realized his boss was still there.

      “Oh, Sir, I didn’t realize you were still here, in the dark.”
      “In the shadows.” corrected Leon Fat Ngoi, a short portly man in his early fifties although he appeared younger.

      Cheung Lok realized there was a double message here, and caught his boss’ meaning. In the Corporation, you were expected to know your boss’ intention with the subtlest of indications. Cheung Lok was the one in the dark, but somehow felt his boss knew more, although he wouldn’t tell without being asked. The three words he’d said were the closest he’d get as an invitation.

      “Sir, we found this map, and I believe our target went into hiding there. But…”
      “Indeed. We know this island. It was purposely chosen to elude us. As you know the People’s Government has laid claims upon various lands and islands over the years, and have believed this particular island to be part of it.”
      “So it shouldn’t be difficult to get there and extradite them?”
      “You’re missing the point, son. The reason why our Government’s leaders in their immense wisdom claimed this peace of land is because it is documented to have appeared near the coast of China around a series of years —year 999 in particular.”
      Cheung Lok pondered, no wonder they liked the idea, saying 999 was like saying forever in Chinese “What do you mean appeared?”
      “This island is appearing and disappearing, only to reappear at certain points of time, and always in different places. Owning this island would have provided our Leaders with great tactical advantage…”
      Cheung Lok didn’t know how to interpret the silence.
      Fat Ngoi continued “I’ve arranged for a flight for you and a small squad to be parachuted over it. You may not see it before you land.”
      Cheung Lok took the last sentence as a cue to leave, and bowed out, moving towards the door.
      Fat Ngoi exhaled loudly and before Cheung Lok left, added ominously “You better get prepared for anything, even if you get the robot, you may never get away of the place before the next hundred years or so…”

      #3353

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

      #3352

      “And Fanella! How marvelous to see you again too!” Lisa’s beam grew even bigger, if that were indeed possible.
      Fanetta rolled her eyes and reminded Lisa, for the umpteenth time, of the correct pronunciation of her name.

      #3351

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

      #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.”

      #3319

      The Chinese secretary who had Sanso interrogated didn’t show any emotion at the news of his escape. Showing emotion was a weakness, and at all layers of the organisation, the lower rank was kept in the dark and given information only when necessary.
      The higher the rank, the better they were at compartimentalising, and at shunning emotion altogether. Some even murmured that the topmost executives were robots posing as humans. Notwithstanding, they would have made great poker player, but the Corporations’ goals were much more important than a simple gamble.

      Despite showing any sign of it, Cheung Lok was pleased to see that Sanso had taken their bait. With a bit of luck, he would drive them straight to Irina, the socialite thief who had mysteriously disappeared with the aid of the mysterious organisation they only knew as “The Management”. The Management had accomplished the exceptional feat of eluding any of their attempts at gaining intelligence and leverage on them, and to this date, their motives were completely opaque and seemingly random to them.
      However, they always seemed to know beforehand what was to happen, so playing against them was particularly tricky.

      Cheung Lok, internally smiled to himself. The chopsticks were his idea, and purposefully planted as an aid for his escape. Rightly used, they allowed to create a temporary shield from the antiportation device. That was a loophole they’d hoped Sanso would know about, and indeed he didn’t disappoint. Or maybe he did all by luck, given the personage, that bit was expected, but all the same, the goal was accomplished.

      A robot carried a briefcase to his desk, and left the room silently.
      Cheung Lok opened the case, and on the screen, the figures and points on the worlds times maps started to flicker erratically.

      #3299
      Jib
      Participant

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

        #3295

        “Wait, wait!”
        When Jonbert in his crab suit arrived on the spot, most of the life had deserted the place to go for a half-brain peaceful sleep, except a few remaining inebriated whales making some more ambergris gyrating around the fading crystal. At times, the hologram could still be faintly perceived.

        “It’s so unfair, I’ve invested so much in this quest to see it fail now and have other reap the reward! I have a question, answer me!”

        The St Germain hologram seemed roused by the word question, if not by the emotional request.

        “A question… Mmm, sounds tempting, I didn’t really get a good question in ages, not to be rude with the previous ones, but well…” he shrugged.
        “Alright, alright, a few questions but be quick with it, I’m nearly done packing my data to transcend to Peasland.”

        Despite the draw to ask more about Peasland, Jonbert was steadfast in his resolve and asked the question that had been on mind rehearsed many a time, hopeful for a mind-blowing answer.

        “Life everlasting is at hand; all I need is to refine enough gold to go through time…”
        “Oh, or simply a bit of gugleshopping would do”
        “What?”
        “Nevermind, must be a data interference”
        “How do I manage that? Can you teach me transmutation?”
        “Well, sure I can, it probably would help, actually I just did it again right here about half an hour ago.”
        “Where is the gold? Where is it?”
        “It’s in the heart, that’s where true transmutation works. Maybe you should listen to some music, I hear a hit song is on its way.”

        Jonbert had the vague feeling he was being mocked, if not by Saint Germain, by fate or worse, his own attempts at a futile quest.

        “But seriously, endings are not so bad you know” the hologram went on “sometimes some experiences are like being trapped in a crystal. I was trapped in a crystal, in a previous life, a long time ago you know… But I digress… You see, new life sparks new creativity. I suggest you make peace with your life and go on with the rest of it, otherwise you’ll find out you have missed it completely. No amount of fountain of youth is going to make you feel better, not in this state. But the reverse is true, the more you will enjoy and inhabit your present, the longer you will live, without even ageing.”

        It surely wasn’t an answer he was expecting. Nobody would have dared give him such answer.

        “Take it as you are not dead yet, this capacity to be surprised is a great feeling… Now I must bid you farewell my friend. You had indeed some great questions…”

        “Wait!” the unexpected words had stirred him somehow and Jonbert had a sudden idea “Tell me a bit more about this Peasland place,… are they in need of a person in a place of authority? Can I come along?”

        “I don’t see why not. Let me recalibrate that crystal, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

        And with a flash of light, the hologram and the crab-man disappeared to the relief of Belen who was monitoring the scene with interest mixed with concern.

        “That was unexpected. And bloody hell, I’m dead. Those humans know nothing.
        Well, look at the Now, it’s high time I go back to Peter, he and the kids must be worried green sick…”

        #3266

        When Lisa eventually came out of her altered state, she was tired and perplexed. The last words she had heard had been “ I’m sorry I’ve led you to believe it was important, but it’s not, not really. It’s just a ordinary object to lead the philistines astray.” How depressing! she thought. How unutterably depressing! If nothing was important, then what was the point ~ of anything? If being led astray wasn’t an opportunity for another voyage of discovery, then what was the point? If everything was wrapped up and tidy with no mysterious paths to explore, then where did Story fit into the picture? A dull story indeed with no tentacles.
        “We may as well just go home and water the garden. Come on Mirabelle.” Lisa’s shoulders sagged dejectedly and she sighed deeply.
        “Oh no, not so fast! This doesn’t sound like you, Lisa! Has someone put a spell on you? Snap out of it!” Mirabelle considered whether slapping Lisa soundly would help break the spell, but decided to throw some bottled water in her face from a safe distance instead.
        The shock of it, welcome actually, cool and revitalizing, made Lisa laugh at the absurdity of ~ well, everything.
        “Oh fuck it, we may as well go and get some octopus tapas while we’re here. Let’s just pretend we’re ordinary people on an ordinary holiday and go to the beach.”

        #3231

        “I’m looking for crew” the stranger said with a thick Russian accent as he bought all the men in the bar a beer, “No experience necessary! I need strong young men to help me sail to the Big Island.”
        Igor had no idea where the Big Island was, or indeed how to sail a boat, but he felt a strong overwhelming urge to accept the strangers offer. “Count me in!” he exclaimed in Russian. What a relief it would be to speak in his native tongue. Russia seemed so very far away, both in distance and in time. There was something timely about this mans unexpected appearance in the village bar, something fortuitous. Igor felt it, but couldn’t explain it. All he knew was that he was destined to sail away with this stranger.
        In truth, Mirabelle hardly crossed his mind. Leaving her would not worry him, although telling her he was leaving worried him a great deal.
        “We leave now” explained the stranger, much to Igor’s relief. “No time to lose, the winds are favourable tonight. Let’s go!”
        And with that, Igor left the village, without looking back.

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