You’re waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you can’t be sure…
Josephinella, the train station cleaning lady, was on night duty. And she was tired of waiting for that damned train with that irritating French accent in her ears, her lungs filled with the engines’ fine coal dust and her nostrils irritated by the pigeons’ smell.
But tonight was going to be her night, she would get drunk on fresh air, her hair whipping her face, bugs biting her eyes, while she would sing elated woohoos launched at full speed on the last commuter train left unattended by drunk Freddie. That was such a beautiful plan.

“ Another Dreamliner scare… and a train crash coming your way!”
“Sounds like a transportation surge to me!” Björk replied on the internal chatting system to her African Twa colleague Kiki Razwa. Björk was not her real name though —it was just a moniker given to her because she liked eccentric costumes. Her real name was Mæja Valbjörnsdóttir,… so ‘Björk’ was better for everyone in that international team, she’d tried to convince herself.
“Doesn’t internal policy says two makes a clue, three makes a surge ?”
“Oh, who cares… For me it smells dreamception transportation surge.”
“Better that than this Mercury retrograde crap, at least that’s more fun to hunt.” Kiki’s reply came up on the screen.
Björk had come to realize that she would probably have to cover for Mari Fe who was elsewhere but at her post. The last surge being in Europe, so she was in for a trip at the taxpayers’ expense… Not so bad actually, since nothing ever happened on her faraway island.

Lulla Spinosa and Vera Pappaloosa were set to meet in Pohnpei , at a few nautical knots and cable length (as the gulls fly) from the Marshall Islands in the beautiful deeply aquamarine middle of the Pacific Ocean. 🐳

Lulla was the first to arrive, and feeling hungry after the sea trip with the amphibian red corvette, bought a pan seared squid skewer from the street vendor at the jetty. Something Vera would certainly have disapproved of, with her uppity glances, perfect gloss lipstick and mascara. Not the kind to nibble on such barbaric foods. Anyway, too bad the street vendor had run short of garlic, she would have gladly paid extra for it, just for the priceless look on the princess’ face while they would ride for the next hours in the confined car to their assigned destination.

Eliza took the lead with a whopping 111 points for the word fuckwit, and grinned impishly at Flinella. “Beat that!” she said. “I’m going for a swim”.

“Watch out for the dragon”

“Oh bugger off”

And then in unison, “what the fuck? What was that noise?”

“The horns of Gabriel” suggested the nun.

Flinella and Eliza spun round. “Where did she come from?” they whispered. “I thought we were alone on this island.” “Where’s the sound coming from, anyway?”

“It’s coming from Detroit” claimed the man in the plaid trousers. “The objective insertion of the shift just started.”

The two women clutched each others arms as they spun round again. “Where did he come from?”

“And where did he get those trousers!”

Luigi recalled reading something about the kraken, that it was sometimes mistaken for an island. Some of the more far fetched notions said the kraken moved so slowly that he could be mistaken for an island for many thousands of years in between each blink of his eye. On the other hand, some said that the real danger to sailors was not the creature itself but rather the whirlpool left in its wake. The idea of a kraken on crack awakening with anything like a relative alacrity would create a whirlpool of considerable propertions, Luigi surmised. He hoped the government would come up with a plan to keep it sleeping awhile longer. At least until he’d heard some news of Flinella.

New Venice, October 2117

Now, where were we? Midora suddenly felt that the need for an agenda was called for. Spread out in front of her were a few collages and some balls of energy from all the links and connections she had found in the stories of her ancestors and gathered so far.

Since her fathers Oscar and Bart had adopted the twins Hari and Jacq, her usually tidy room had been a mess. Fortunately, the adoption was almost complete, and in a mere week, the twins would then be able to choose another family, which they made clear they intended to do. She felt so appreciative that adoption was no longer bound by traditional laws of responsibility of the parents and ridden by culpability; instead, it was a healthier cooperation between the parents and children, and children were free to go with other families if they felt the desire for a different experience.
When they’d adopted Hari and Jacq, Bart and Oscar had wanted for a continuation of the experience of bringing up children, which they did not have for a long time with Midora, as she was quite independent from an early age. And in truth, Jacq and Hari were very interactive and playful, and to be perfectly honest, quite a handful; in a few weeks, the apartment would surely seem deserted and empty.

So, during that time, Midora’s researches on the stories had been put to a halt, and a lots of her energy balls which were usually neatly ordered on her lightboard were now merged for some, changed of forms for others… all thanks to her half-bros. She barely knew were to start to get a better view of it now.

Let me see… there were a few threads going on there, and all we need is untangle some of them…

She’d had fun reconnecting with the “Island of Dr Transvestite” theme, but now she found out, her favorite characters Shar and Glor, were now disembodied, stranded in transition, and perhaps waiting to be reborn to a nine-titted alien in the Worseversity after failed attempts of channeling. So far, no signs of developments for them though.

As far as the Ooh-dimension was concerned, the shift of Vowellness was probably complete, and she couldn’t find anything new being published by Ms Tattler in all now probable directions she was looking into. She was of course ignoring the disrupted echoes from the Jumbled Eights thread, which were probably the brainstorming board of ideas of the writer, which she had the greatest difficulty to follow (she wondered if even the writer could).

Her own thread and the details of the history of the Wrick family was always sketchy and full of holes; she’d attempted at learning more about the elusive Becky , but she kept blinking in and out of continuity, too quickly for her to follow her anywhere in her explorations.

Oh, and the Alienor dimension was still going on, though most of its development wasn’t yet showing up. What had happened of Arona, Franiel, Irtak’s father, the gripshawk? And now that Malvina was gone too… She’d found Mrs Chesterhope after her strange amnesiac shapeshifting accident however; and that was encouraging.

So strange, all of these characters are so alive, she thought fondly, and yet none of them seem motivated enough to project themselves out with force and steadiness into her energy balls which still had a sort of blurriness and haphazardness to them.

She made the intent to project more energy in the direction of stabilizing the currents of the strands of stories, and the energy balls’ colors started to shimmer lightly. That was certainly the way to go. Which one would be the most alluring to explore and follow?

It all came as a surprise to them. At first, they didn’t want to believe the “others” telling them they were dead. Glor went there first, then Shar shortly after. Apparently some side effects of the beauty treatments they’d taken during their trip in the mysterious island of Tikfijikoo.
They started to believe it when they witnessed their own burial ceremonies. Was a bit strange at first, but soon they couldn’t help but gossip about their friends outfits and hairdos. Then all of a sudden, it was funny! They could go anywhere in the blink of an eye, spy on everyone, and get a good laugh together —and not with just any bloody disincarnate ascended being.

— Shar?
— What Glor?
— What we’re going to do now?
— I think whatever they said about it, I quite liked the island. Perhaps we can pop-in there, have a good party with lemurs, especially now that everybody’s been deserting it.
— Oh yes, and let’s get find that doctor, scare him outta his wits force him make beauty treatments for us!
— Now that’s talking lady!

When she opened her plastic bag with the pink fish pattern on it to count how much money she had left to pay for that trip to the Cayman Islands, Jane could have sworn that there was anything else altogether than the last time she’d checked.

Was her amnesia playing tricks on her? There was now a credit card instead of the wet stack of dollar bills, and a paper with a few numbers jotted down on it in place of the previous account number —maybe a PIN number?…

Puzzled for a moment, she wondered if that was a sign. After all that thinking she’d had the past night, about what to do, and how she didn’t feel like moving already, there was a new set of possibilities opening for her.
She was almost done distractedly packing the few personal belongings she had gathered during her weeks of convalescence when somebody knocked lightly on the door.
Even if she’d not already recognized the footsteps, she knew who it was and blushed spotting in the wall mirror a few wild hair in her otherwise perfect blond hairdo.
Mark Devoiteur was the man who had found her stranded on the beach, and had taken her to the hospital. He’d been checking on her every day since, and was visibly attracted by her.

She folded the plastic bag in her handbag and closed the little suitcase. She was ready to go.

Jane had been found unconscious in a small creek in Australia, with little on her but a few wet dollars, scribbled papers in a plastic bag, and a bank account number that was later found to be in the Cayman Islands. Her real name wasn’t probably Jane at all, but of course amnesiac people had to be called something, and that or Sheila…

During her recovery at the hospital, she’d had flashes of unsettling things that the doctors had told her were certainly repressed memories. Somehow people around her seemed to believe that forgetting everything was a blessing, but to her it seemed it was her bane for a long long time.

“Glor…”
“What dear?”
“Glor, ain’t you bored silly in that cottage?”
“Well Sha, now that our Joe and ‘arry are gone fishin’ all day… and thinking of our glorious days on that island…”
“Tell no more! I was thinking of that too… Would be good to have another beauty treatment for sure…”
“Any idea where that doctor might be now Shar?”
“As a matter of fact, I do…”
“You’re kidding me Shar!”
“I’ve got a cousin in Spain, ya know…”
“Who? Barb?”
“Yeah, Barbie. I’ve got news from her from time to time, when she’s squatting in those tourists houses in Spain while they’re empty in the low season.”
“And what? Tell me all, I’m dying Shar!”
“I’ll tell you if you bloddy stop interrupting! Now, last week, she mentioned she heard from a woman in Spain that they saw a doctor during a silly nut-age conference, he was talking of rejuvenating cures, and she even got a sample.”
“A sample?”
“Yeah, a bloody sample. She told me those silly twats gave them to their dogs! Can you believe it Glor’?”
“The silly buggers! Throwing away precious reejoo-whatever samples!”
“Anyway, the doctor was speaking with whales too. Every year he told them (Barbie told me) going upside down in the sea to upgrade his whale speech.”
“Whale speech you say Shar…”
“Kind of rings a bell init?”
“Hell yeah! I remember Vessie told us about those funny swimming suits for the Doctor. Could be him!”
“You know what?”
“What Shar?”
“I’m having a funny brainwave now… I’m thinking we need some vacation in Spain…”
“And leave Gustav to cook the bloody fish for the boys ! You’re brilliant Shar!”

With a side glance at the random words written on the fridge, Harvey was starting to get another slipstream of weirdrom (weird and random) information.

Earth escape; whole asked environment similar — Friend forgotten work, thinking moving! Managed recently whatever known questions — dogs ones myself physical energy

Now, did this Earth escape had anything to do with that recent quest of Philodendron for a FTL travels equipped island…