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  • June was impatiently waiting for the Oober, and asking April every second where the driver was. "You should get the app if you're so damn impatient!" finally snapped April who had watched a video on how to stop being a crowd pleaser and start asserting herself. Might as well be with June, as she was the kind ... · ID #5574 (continued)
    (next in 04h 29min…)

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  • #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.

    #3313

    When Jack had sent Lisa a message to ask if Fanella had joined her and Mirabelle in Portugal, she was worried.
    “Mirabelle, Fanella has disappeared, do you know anything about it?” asked Lisa. “Did she say anything to you that might give us a clue? Was she planning on going anywhere, did she have any friends outside the village? I know she homesick for 18th century Paris, but she couldn’t possibly have gone back ~ or could she?”
    “Bit of a dark horse, our Fanella,” replied Mirabelle. “Always down by that river on her own, reading that strange old book.”
    “Not Circle of Eights and Other Stories!”
    “Yes, that’s the one. She was practicing projecting to the places in the book.”
    WHAT?? Mirabelle, there’s no time to lose, we must go back to the village at once. If Fanella has been doing that, she could be anywhere, anywhere at all ~ and the trail will be a hard one to follow!”
    “But what about our holiday? And not only that, what about the strange tile that was stolen that we’re supposed to be looking for?”
    “The damn tile can wait.” snapped Lisa. “But I haven’t forgotten your arousing arms,” she added, her voice softening. “But we must find Fanella first.”

    ~~

    Lisa was not surprised to find on her return to the village that everything had descended into chaos. She knew that her responsibility belief about her herd tribe had something to do with it, and although she detested the word control, she was well aware of her propensity for monitoring and guiding the creatures and characters in her domain. The lifestyle in the village had relaxed her guidelines about fair play to some extent, but by golly some people were lazy slackers at times. But the one thing that got her goat was being kept in the dark. How could she keep a benevolent control if she wasn’t aware of what was going on? When she found out that Fanella had been making a granite box, and that she was the last to know, she was furious.

    #3310

    “Did anybody see Fanella?” Lisa couldn’t help but regularly count her herds (so to speak), and although she wasn’t as authoritative with her friends as she was with her animals, she couldn’t help but notice those last few times that her count was one person short —enough to start worrying her. And everybody knew what worrying did to her.
    “Oh, she’s probably somewhere lost on one of her walks, I’ve asked her to get me some new plastic materials…” Adeline snapped absentmindedly. “And when did you get back from your vacation?”

    Lisa ignored the last part. “That’s the thing, she hasn’t showed up for a while now, and I’m starting to get worried…”

    Everyone suddenly looked at her funny at the mention of the W-word.

    “Maybe you’re right, let’s go look for her… Last time she was ranting about getting lost…”
    “Did you check her makeshift atelier near the cave on the beach?” Etienne happened to overhear the conversation and somehow always seemed to know about the whens and wheres of everybody.

    “I don’t know,… yes, you’re right, maybe we can start there…” Lisa said, breathing deeply “I get a feeling something is not quite right …”
    She turned to Mirabelle and Adeline “you two are coming with me, you know her better than I do, toot toot!”

    #3308
    Jib
    Participant

      “Madame, a message from your mother. She’s waiting for you in her room.”

      Linda Pol, ensconced in a lumpy chair at the hotel bar, got confused at the mention of her mother. She had forgotten for a moment that it was the code for her meeting with Amber Graystone. The boy was wearing the hotel livery, the fur was a perfect fit on that young body. He must have been eighteen, at least, it was illegal in most states to employ underage personnel. He was presenting her a folded paper on a silver plate. That was so cliché, the Management should keep up to date with the latest unusual methods.

      She took the paper delicately. Thick, three hundred grams at least. Grainy yet satin-smooth. She thought the Management had money issues. She opened it and saw a single number inside. 88857.

      “There must be a mistake, mon ami. Certainly your hotel is big, but it doesn’t have so many stories.”
      The boy smirked.
      “Please follow me, I’ll show you the way. Oh, and keep the card with you.”

      Linda Pol had become cautious with age, but she had to admit the thrill of adventure and mystery was exciting. Especially presented on a silver plate by such a gorgeous minion. Something she hadn’t felt often lately.

      She smiled, stretched her left arm and fluttered her fingers. Those chairs were so deep that you could’t get up without looking like getting out of the armpit of a gorilla. The boy helped her out, a surprised look on his face when she appeared to spring on her feet like a young damsel. Those morning fitness sessions were paying off after all.

      “Show me everything”, she said with her best doe eyes.
      Come on, Pol. He could be your son, she thought. The youngest, added her mother’s disincarnate voice.

      #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.

      #3303

      Moanie found out early during her transition that she had the opportunity to come back into life —well, in a way.

      When that regrettable accident had happened that had cost her her life, she had vowed to enact a terrible revenge on her twin sister.

      Her corpse had been lying for years in the bogs of the island, and had changed her into a pretty fashionable mummy, with a fondness for arousing scarves. Her green olivine complexion was fantastic now, and she couldn’t wait to veer her way back to life.

      #3301

      Without Mirabelle and Lisa around, trying to encourage her all the time but succeeding merely in making her feel harassed, Fanella had relaxed enough to achieve a remarkable degree of success with her teleport and projection practice. Projecting had been easy enough actually, but a full teleport was another matter. But she was encouraged by her successes with the projections, and the few seconds of full body teleporting here and there that she had managed.
      Her attempts to return to her original physical focus timeframe had been futile; there were mental and emotional blocks and too much associated baggage getting in her way, and her lack of a specific intention with other timeframes had led not unsurprisingly to random times and places which had been unsettling ~ at times alarming ~ resulting in her finding herself back where she started in no time at all.
      Fanella decided to pick a date and a location and be firm about it and unwavering.
      She chose a date and a location based on an old battered book she had found on the shelf in Lisa’s house. It was called Circle of Eights and Other Stories. Many a happy hour had she spent reading the book down by the river, a gloriously feast of imaginative tales, with no dull steadfast tiresome normal plot or structure. It had appealed to her greatly, and sparked many fantastic ideas and wonderings. She felt particularly attracted to the tale about the island in 2121, and decided to make that her specific teleport destination.

      #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.”

        #3297

        “Peter dear, what would you think of some up-scaling?” Belen asked her portly ghost partner.
        “You mean? Our place?”
        “Yes!”
        “Well, That galleon is a bit mouldy and creaky, true enough… And we’re all a bit cramped in there, and nooo, don’t give me that look, it’s not because I’ve been eating more, haha.
        Honestly, I don’t mind haunting it. You had something in mind my dear?”
        “It just occurred to me that there happens to be a luxury time-travelling equipped submarine now floating around without a captain.”
        “Oh, and you knew I always wanted me some submarine to swim and bob just like you… How sweet of you!”
        Belen nodded with a whale smile.

        “But… What about the birds? Can really take them with it, can we?”
        “Don’t mind the birds, we can leave them with the galleon, and honestly there are worst places and time to leave them than in Hawaii 2222.”
        Peter giggled approvingly.
        “Well, I’ll consider it, and we’ll see tomorrow.”

        #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.”

        #3287

        When the Whales had learnt from Belen that the Conch ritual would not be enacted, it set the tone of the Ceremony.
        Less ceremonious, and opening the Gates for a new Era of new learning based on trust and self-discoveries.

        The Dances started, and enthralling gyrations flowed, enhancing the visions induced by the pulverized red algae floating around the seabed. Octopi were drumming in cadence, the Whales solemnly turning, undisturbed by the dolphins high on the algae who were tittering stupidly.

        In the middle of the cycle, the gorgeous crystal was pulsating and glowing.

        #3286
        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          (a totally random one)

          San Diego
          – a mystery
          by Ewrick

          The cosy, Cornish town of San Diego holds a secret.

          Gregory Khan has the perfect life working as a shopkeeper in the city and gyrating with his lovable girlfriend, Ruth Donaldson.

          However, when he finds a tattered torch in his cellar, he begins to realise that things are not quite as they seem in the Khan family.

          A Christening leaves Gregory with some startling questions about his past, and he sets off to deserted San Diego to find some answers.

          At first the people of San Diego are courageous and helpful. He is intrigued by the curiously hilarious gardener, Una Grey. However, after she introduces him to hard sugar, Gregory slowly finds himself drawn into a web of decadence, sloth and perhaps, even mutilation.

          Can Gregory resist the charms of Una Grey and uncover the secret of the tattered torch before it’s too late, or will his demise become yet another San Diego legend?

          Praise for San Diego

          “Who wouldn’t give up a life of gyrating with their lovable girlfriend to spend a little time with a curiously hilarious gardener?”
          – The Daily Tale

          “About as mysterious as finding a poo in a public toilet. However, San Diego does offer a valuable lesson about not getting into hard sugar.”
          – Enid Kibbler

          “The only mystery, is why did I keep reading after page one?”
          – Hit the Spoof

          “I could do better.”
          – Zob Gloop

          #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?”

          #3282
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Livy and Me
            – a suspense novel
            by Flove

            “I’m going to need expensive Italian real estate, big, expensive Italian real estate.”

            He had not known love or loss until he risked losing his brave basket ball player Livvy.

            His contented life is shattered when he learns that the lazy Dead Kennedys plan to bankrupt Livvy and he knows he has to stop them or his heart will die.

            At 40, the Exercise Mat Salesman from Belgium is both delightful and friendly. But will it be enough to protect Livvy?

            He goes to a Basket ball tournament in Hawaii where he acquires some expensive Italian real estate and Scooters. It finally seems that he will be able to stop the Dead Kennedys that wish to bankrupt Livvy.

            However, when Livvy calls, begging him to come home, he is forced to decide what is more important: stopping the lazy Dead Kennedys that bankrupting each other, or preserving his relationship with his basket ball player?

            Flove delivers a brave and poignant story that explores the love between a Exercise Mat Salesman and his basket ball player.

            “Never have there been more chilling villains than lazy Dead Kennedys that bankrupt each other.”
            – The Daily Tale
            “Are we seriously supposed to find a delightful and friendly Exercise Mat Salesman from Belgium heroic?”

            #3281

            “Isn’t that the greatest thing about those underwater goggles”
            After the shark threat had vanished, Sadie had contemplated for quite some time her new-found underwater abilities, and how to shift the weight of her body gracefully underwater. And then, she realized she could roll her eyes in the most peculiar way, with the membrane of the transparent skin massaging her eyeballs in the most relaxing manner. She’d never felt so good about rolling her eyes, and that was saying something.

            “BrllllSssadiieeee” came the urging sound in bubbles and gurgles, with a hint of despair dragging her out of the lovely eyeball massage session. The underwater acoustics needed some fine-tuning, so she had her wits to thank for understanding quickly the situation.
            Despite what might have looked like her sending messages on her ezapper, at the same time she was having in-her-body experiences, she was merely testing experimental echo-localization to pinpoint the spot where the pod of whales would be most likely found. The feedback buzzing had prompted her minutes ago that it had found 6 potential spots, and one only which was the most probable and located less than an hour’s diving distance. One thing she knew was that you had to be careful with automatic location instructions, so she’d run a second independent check and was waiting for the results when the alarmed look of Maurana turned and rolled in front of her face, almost giving her a fright.

            “Gbbbllood gracious, Maurana, what’s the matter?”
            “Gbblbl wooohoooglllbb bbbllrsfffftt plk plk plk skwooobbll!”

            “Oh, for fucks sake,” she telepathied “will you stop nattering in French, be more articulate.”
            “The others are drowned and I no longer see them, it’s awful, what should we do?!” the thought came back with force and a bit of campiness.

            “Well, that would depend what it is you want” straight answers were not Sadie’s forte.
            “I want to have our party with costumes and dances, I want to be the black pearl of the Ocean, I want to have more glitter and less molluscs, more chic and less kelp…” she started to sob profusely, half-choking and breathing from her tears. “I want my friends, and to be back hooooome”
            “Bloody hell, Reggie, now is not the time to lose your shit, pull yourself together dammit.”

            The reaction was immediate, the telepathic swearing was so out-of-the-ordinary that Maurana looked twice at Sadie, with her bob cut surrounding her face like a heavenly halo. Suddenly self-conscious, Maurana started to reapply some waterproof mascara to cover the stains.

            “I found them,” said Sadie with infectious calm “the ezapper’s first scan took them for a pod of whales or octopi for some reason. Let’s go get them, then we go visit the whales. But first, you have to try this, it will soothe you…”, as she started to show some more rolling motion of her beautiful blue eyes.

            #3273

            Consuela was always the more independent and adventurous. She didn’t realise at first that there was something not quite right about the perilous situation.

            Breathing under water was strange, and it felt like a not quite adjusted piece of garment (an ill-motherfucker-fitted thong Maurana would have said), as though her lungs were filled with a light yet mucous fluid.
            They’d all struggled and kicked the water in violent spams in the beginning, thinking they were about to die when the wetsuit automatic mucusbags went off, as a security measure for drowning, she’d guessed.
            But then, the magic happened and they realised they could breathe like fishes.
            Then the shark panic attack happened, which left them swimming for their lives with their prosthetic fins (and more or less graceful movements). But the shark didn’t seem interested after all, or it was driven away by a more juicy prospect, because they soon found themselves following a strange string of parallel lighted dots that dived deeper under water like an oddly placed seacraft runway. At least, that was what she thought at first, until she arrived at the cave’s entrance and realized nobody was actually following her.

            The others didn’t follow… She only had to hope that they would catch her later with a taxi or something…
            The thought of being able to discover the underwater cave trumped all sense of caution, and the lure of the prized crystal of exotic properties was enough to send her further down, despite the feeling of flashing tentacles creeping around in her peripheral vision, then gone in an instant the moment she turned the head around…

            #3272

            “There is a fine balance between touch ups and shoehorning”
            Jonbert was half-listening to the rant of his tailor and shoemaker, as he was trying on a new outfit and tartan kilt.
            Jonbert’s temper had improved slightly, and he was up to moderate amount of grumpiness as he’d learnt of the arrival of the elder whale, and of the throwing of his guests in the midst of the cetaceans. That explained how he could tolerate much of it.

            “You can’t just shoehorn any pattern under the pretext that you fancy it. It has to be in harmony with the moment, in pure synchronistic bliss.” His tailor, Erldrich Lumoncelli, was often prone to bouts of philosophical ramblings that Jonbert had to suffer to get the perfect tailored suits he wanted.

            “Oh, bugger that nonsense,” he suddenly shouted, unable to suffer more of the airy monologue. “You’ll give me that gold and orange tartan and those yellow dots on my green shoes if I tell you so. Orange will bring out my shiny hair and light complexion I reckon.”

            Color-blind Jonbert wasn’t obviously as savvy for colour matching as he was for time-travelling business, but Erldrich knew better than to infuriate him with aesthetic negotiations.
            “Very well Sir.”
            He finished taking the measurements quickly, folded back the swatches of textile, and bowed out as if his house was on fire.

            Jonbert pulled back his heavy mane of hair into a neat French catogan, truly a unapologetic snobbishness on his part, as it didn’t look very different from a usual ponytail, but somehow sounded more distinguished. Nobody likes to be compared to a pony, do they?
            He walked past the great central hall of the submarine, into the Sightseethroughing Dome Room, and considered for a moment to visit the butterfly nursery, in case the new butterflies were hatched yet. But if butterflies had taught him something is that you couldn’t hurry and cut open a cocoon before the butterfly was ready. There was no such thing as a mythical half-caterpillar half-butterfly creature, every change was a complete change, and it had its own timing.

            But now things were back on course, and the 22nd of February 2222 was still days ahead. Time again was on his side.

            #3270

            When the bubble of air popped open, and the veil of mist lifted, all the birds woke up excited and rushed out to taste the 2222 fishes and for some of them, to enjoy cracking macadamia nuts with their beaks shut.
            Among them, Huhu the parrot felt its brain change in a weird brainwave he’d experienced before.

            It knew what needed to be done next.
            Surreptitiously, Huhu crept on the vines covering the floating mess that was the galleon, very slowly, in the direction of the Captain’s cabin, where the Captain’s treasures were kept. A heap of rubbish really, mostly gathered on various of Peter’s visits inland —broken shells of attractive and incomprehensible forms, shiny mother-of-pearl squiggles and brightly colored beads of various materials, former sea trash sanded down to their round form by the power of the elements, and left bereft of any hint of their man-made origin.

            The second key was there, next to the window, with a faint metal shine on its brushed surface, laid in the middle of an array of strange metal objects, most of which were rusted and unrecognizable, old keys as well maybe, or virtually anything else.

            On a schedule, Huhu, swiftly assessed that no other prying eye was looking his way, and that Peter’s ghost form was softly blinking in a snoring fashion, then leapt on the table, snatched the precious key, and flew out of the window to join Irina at the rendez-vous point on a particular rock off the shores of 2222, Big Island, where she was sunbathing in her mermaid costume, while Mr R was close too, in his octopus suit, and as well, on a mission…

            #3269

            Gliding through layers of consciousness, Belen carried her precious cargo of the Santa Maria and its birds towards her destination.
            There were various variations of the same 2222, and she carefully adjusted the course along the 202 years gap, so as to swim to her favourite version of it. It required much love work on her part, addressing, piecing and peacing off many parts of human consciousness, while at the same time tenderly caring for the memories stored with her immense ghost body.
            The 2020 version they had just left, she knew, was already on the proper track towards global enlightenment. There were still horrors, concerns and anxiety about the course of the future, but with a greater perspective, it looked like the positive actions were gaining momentum and leaning towards a brighter fuller and richer future.

            She could feel the Contact Crystal pulsate steadily and it opened her blowhole chakra. Blowing her mind, as it were.

            The Big Island was like a beacon, with the flows of lava rippling heatwave signatures in the ocean, and it didn’t take long to enter the stream that would lead them to the pod and the meeting point.

            As she sensed they’d arrived in 2222, and that they were floating on the surface of a calm ocean, she gently opened the energy bubble sealing the ghost and alive cargo of birds and vegetation, so they could breathe in the pure air and enjoy discovering around.

            “Belen, look at you, not a ounce more of blubber since we last met! You ought to tell me how you keep so fit”
            “Batshatsassani!” Belen was pleased the see the great female orca who’d come to greet her.
            “Still with your entourage, it seems” her friend said without a hint of malice, blowing a few rings of bubbles around in a relaxed manner. “Let me accompany you to the ceremony.”
            “With great pleasure, dear. Rest assured, I won’t carry my entourage along for the time of the ceremony.”
            “It would have been cumbersome, no?” Oftentimes humour (and irony in particular) were a lost subtlety on the orca’s mind. Belen just smiled to answer, revealing a great range of ghostwhite perfect baleens.

            As they swam their way along the beautiful clear ocean, they were greeted by a pod of joyously rambunctious great dolphins, a good half size bigger than their common dolphins cousins she’d seen swimming near the coasts of Portugal. The leader of the pod was doing acrobatics to retrieve and play with a funny scarf made of colorful feathers. It was no surprise the dolphins were playing games, really. That or chasing food took the best of their time. But the scarf was the strangest thing Belen had seen in a long time and it triggered some kind of forgotten memory. Odd thing for her to not remember a memory, unless it was from another probable dimension… She followed the urge to ask.

            “Were did they get that?”
            “Oh, it’s nothing important… Four strange aquatic thingies went down earlier this morning, making a whole lot of noise around. They looked like one of those aliens, but so clumsy we thought they were probably sickly and left there to die by their tribe. The ‘phins took the fancy red gills from one of them.”
            “Are you serious? Are they OK?” Belen huge heart felt panicky at the thought of the small creatures left to die without help.
            “Of course they are, I knoooow we have to keep our reputation, you know. Where they are now, I’m not too sure. But the octopi from the camouflage squad are on it, following them. According to the last I know, the aliens have been lost for awhile in the underwater caves. When they’re exhausted, we’ll send them somewhere else… Can’t attract too much attention to ourselves, with the ceremony and all…”

            #3267

            “You have a tentacle hanging down your chin Mirabelle” remarked Lisa, reaching for her camera.
            Mirbelle obligingly waited while Lisa took a photo, though she was not at all sure why she wanted a picture of it.
            “I don’t know anything about holidays. Are holidays about eating tentacles on the beach, then?” she asked.
            “Well, they can be about that yes, but not entirely. There are lots of things to do on holidays” replied Lisa.
            “Like what? Why do people have holidays?”
            “A short break from working every day usually, although people who don’t work take holidays too. For a change of scenery, and a rest. Although holidays aren’t always about rest ~ some people get very little rest and walk all day, or cycle or something. People in colder climates often want a holiday in the sun, and people who live inland often want a holiday by the sea. In fact” Lisa continued, “Some people spend all year dreaming about a holiday by the sea, in the sun.”
            “If they love the sea and the sun so much, why don’t they just move to the coast then?”
            “Well some of us do! Then we go to a city for our holiday, because it’s different I suppose.”
            “So a holiday is a for a change, then? Because people like a change?”
            “Only if it’s a holiday, I mean, people usually resist change ~ unless it’s a holiday.”
            “But if you changed something at home and didn’t go anywhere else, would that be a holiday?”
            “Only if you had time off work, otherwise it wouldn’t be a holiday.”
            “But if you changed something at work, wouldn’t that be a holiday?”
            “Well no not really, that kind of change usually pisses people off.”

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