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  • #3763

    In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      “I won’t mince my words.” Finnley’s gravitas in the bright blue light made Eb shiver.
      She didn’t wait for him to continue. “I’ve received orders to termitate the program in two weeks.”

      “T… ter…?” Eb almost started to voice his concerns.

      “Before you say anything, need I remind you I personally supervised most of the program since probably before you were born. I know the variables, I know the consequences.” She sighed, and drew deep breaths from her chamomile vaporazor —it would help alleviate her manic attacks and panic depressive impulses (she was beyond bipolar, she would say, probably multipolar).

      “It’s a done deal, Eb. With the impossible influx of refugees after the latest floods around the world’s coastal areas, the water increase, people fleeing, and all that… Well, seems the governments wanted the space. I won’t draw you a picture, you’ve read the news in your cubicle, haven’t you?”

      Eb was speechless. He couldn’t imagine they could clear the space in such short time. That, and dealing with another set of refugees. What would the Mars settlers do,… if they survived the trauma of finding out they were lied to—like billions of people too. The implications were far-reaching. Two weeks, more than a stretch.

      But termitate?… Nobody could wish such dreadful end to a program… He ventured “With all due respect, Ma’m, are you sure there’s no better way than termitation?”

      She turned at him with a surprised look on her face. “Where do you get those funny ideas Eb? We’re humane, nobody wants a termitation on top of our problems.”

      Eb sighed of relief. She might have made a Tea-pooh (TP for short).
      He didn’t realize that he had just agreed to the two weeks deadline.

      #3556
      TracyTracy
      Participant

        Bert crept past room 8 again, listening. There it was again, the voice of a woman. How the heck did the dusty old geezer manage to smuggle a woman into his room? It didn’t make sense, there were so few people in the town that a strange woman would have been noticed, someone would have mentioned it. And the woman had a strange accent, Bert couldn’t place it, but it wasn’t an accent he was familiar with. Sounded almost old fashioned, although he couldn’t be sure. His hearing wasn’t so good these days. A foreign woman in town, and not a mention anywhere? No, it didn’t make sense.

        Bert had a few jobs to do, but wanted to keep an eye on the door of room 8. Whoever was in there would need to come out to use the bathroom sooner or later. He decided to ask Prune to keep watch while he fed the chickens, Prune would enjoy keeping a secret, and he wanted to keep quiet about his suspicions until he knew a bit more. Nobody would find it odd to see Prune lurking around in a dark corridor.

        ~~~

        “Do you not see that satchel o’er yon upon that fine stout table? Do but hand it this way, noble sir.”

        Prune pressed her ear to the door and frowned. It was a woman’s voice, but what was she on about?

        “Your Grace, I would sit with thee and spake…”.

        Her name must be Grace, deduced Prune, wondering why the old dusty bugger was speaking funny as well.

        “…..whence I have received from thee the artefact. Get to it, you lay about excuse for a man, I do ha’e me most urgent and important things to apply my considerable value upon.”

        What a rude tart, thought Prune, and she hadn’t even paid for a room. She heard no more from inside the room because at that moment Aunt Idle came roaring and crashing down the corridor with the hoover. Prune scuttled off past her and went to find Bert.

        ~~~

        Prune had just started to explain to Bert about Grace when Mater came beetling across the yard to join them.

        Bert, where’s the fish gone?”

        Bert and Prune looked at each other. “What fish?”

        “The flying fish that’s been hanging on the wall all these years, it’s gone,” she said, pointing towards the house with her walking stick.

        Open mouthed in astonishment, Prune raced back to the house to check for herself.

        #3481
        Jib
        Participant

          Second Journey ~ August 24th, 2014

          Duration 24 minutes

          Directions : Meet with your power animal, ask them to lead you to the upper realm to meet with your guide. Ask the name of your guide and what they will be likely helping you with. Ask them for your personal symbol and how you can use it. Then follow your power animal into showing you the potential development for the stories.

          Accounts

          Eric
          My snake animal guide appears very fast, I see its eyes first. It shifts into a powerful cobra, and fans out its hood into multiple heads, like Ananta (Shesha Naga), and says I can call him Nagini (like in Harry Potter, that’s also the playful name I give to the plush snake at our doorsteps).
          It wraps its multiple heads around me like a ball, and we woosh into the ground to what I guess is the underworld, it seems like a long coiled path around a sort of vortex, after a few moments in a sort of crystal cave, I’m a bit skeptical what we’re doing there, I catch a glimpse of a white horse from the back, so I guess Jib’s Conan is checking on us, and restate my intent.
          I go though the light of one of the brightest glowing crystals, and the travel resumes, this time like the giant snake wraps ourselves in coils around a column of rocks, and we climb that high mountain very fast. It reminds me of Mt Meru in Buddhism or the Immortals palace in the Chinese Buddhist tales (like in the 2014 movie The Monkey King).
          The place is like a beautiful platform/palace of giant proportions, with a golden light. When we arrive, the snake becomes much smaller, and golden too, and wraps itself around my left arm. It guides me to explore different places, a temple, a place over the clouds where there are dances, etc. I decide to rest under a tree and meditate and be open to possibilities.
          The snake shifts around in various forms as if to reflect the nature of my mind, a giant parasol, or a stream of many paths at my feet. It connects me to a picture I saw of a Buddhist painting where the mind represented as an elephant is led by the monkey brain around a snake-like path. I realize the person I saw briefly earlier is the guide that helped Sunwukong (the monkey king) and seems to be the guide I’m looking for.
          (I find the name later is Puti or Subhuti).
          When I mentally ask for a name, the name Pachacamac comes strongly. He shows me many things related to my symbol. As a spinning cube with the floating feather in the middle and the arrow pointing towards the heart. The spin of the cube creates illusion within illusion, the arrow wobbles but stays towards the heart.
          He shows me a chasm and how to create a bridge over the clouds, by showing me the mirror image in my heart chakra. The bridge is built inside. At the same time, I was trying to focus on the music to deepen the trance, and realized outside (one storey below) was Jib’s music played on the speakers, aligned with the one playing in the headset, although a few seconds off, the rhythm was perfectly in synch…
          He also shows me another image, of a deep well deep inside the mountain that we can see from above the clouds. The image inside is dark and fluctuates with the water’s surface, and also reflecting quite a small portion of the beautiful landscape around.
          He explains that the well is the world we create, the mind and the perception is the water’s surface. It’s the external world, while the heart is all that we perceive as we discuss.
          There are other things shared at a subjective level.

          Francie
          After I connected with my power animal, we went to the upper world. We went through water to get there until we came to land.
          I asked for my main guide.
          I think I took on the characteristics of my guide. by that I mean I felt myself become a different being, and then switched back and forwards between myself and the other. It was very clear. The other was masculine, strong, very alert, very watchful, powerful.
          I asked for the guide’s name and received the answer, Carlos.
          I asked for the area which the guide would work with me. I have had a sharp pain in my left abdomen under my rib for half an hour. I felt my guide reach in and do something energetically in that area. The pain left and has not returned.
          I asked for a symbol and saw what looked like a key-hole shape.
          There was a key too.
          It was a very particular shape.
          There was a door. And the key hole was up very high in the door.
          I had to reach up high to get to it. And I put the key in.
          I wasn’t sure if those were symbols.
          The key hole and the key were shapes.
          I was tracing them with my hand.

          Jib
          I settle in myself and arrive directly in a kind of lava world. There are stalagmites and magma puddles, it’s very fiery and earthy. Then I call my horse who just nudge my left shoulder, he was already there.
          I ride him first and take time to bond with him. Then ask him to take me to the upper realm to Michel. Without much transition I am there, I feel a definite difference of feeling and texture. I say hi and ask Michel if he can show me the use of my personal symbol or particular aspects to it.
          The he focuses my attention to the octagon and the connection with the number eight. He shows me how it connects with the musical octave and sounds as a resonator. It can also be used like the shamanic drum. The coil inside is connected with the circle, the spiral and the labyrinth. My symbol is a kind of labyrinth with the diamond representing the central room where the graal is, so to speak.
          He shows me other stuff that I don’t recall at the moment.
          When I realize that it will be all, I ask my guide if he can introduce me to another guide that can help me with the use of my symbol. He sends me in a direction that goes up in a cave world. There are faceless figures, I don’t pay much attention to them. When I arrive, the guide sits me on the ground and a journey inside my symbol begins. With the octagon connecting quite strongly with the lava and earth again. I am in a lava world again, which is strange. I ask the guide what is his name and I suddenly understand it is Athumbra the Dreamwalker from whom I’m fragmented.
          He shows me the connection of my symbol to the fire and earth, and the depth of the world. He suggests me that instead of focusing on the shape of the symbol I connect with how the different parts connects together and to other aspects of consciousness, and how they are representative of my own energy personality. Not try to look outside for an answer in a way at the moment.
          So I begin to experience the shapes, and it turns like a clock, take different colors, etc.
          This will be something I’ll have to do again.
          Then I ask my power animal to show me what would be interesting to me to explore in the story now.
          He shows me a nest and I connect it with the stork nests I’ve been talking about in the last comment and that I used in the quote of the week picture. Without consciously connecting the two. I’ve written the comment before making the picture.
          It will have to do with how the nest is comfortable but don’t make you learn much about life and your potentials.
          Then he showed me something related to ants and colonies, that I connected with Mars, the colonies of Mars. There is something about community and social network for me to explore.
          Then I asked him to help me decipher the energy transmission Eric sent to me the other day, and it had something to do with networks again and how we create a space of something through our relationships, the space of love, the space of friendship, and we create fields and connective tissues that we nourish through experience and attention and involvement.
          At some point in the beginning I briefly wondered what was happening with you guys and felt propelled into something like water and impression of struggling with current, there were two moon crescents holding together by their “backs”, and purple or pink colors.

          Tracy
          The Zebra walked towards me across a grassy plain then I circled him, floating, and we went down a slope through the trees, an old road paved with stones. We wound down and came to a great expanse of metallic pink water, like a wise (typo! wide) river.
          There was a guy in much heavy stone coloured rough clothes on with a very old face who didn’t look at me, he was on a raft with a long pole for steering. Asked his name and got Frudo. (was slightly skeptical that I got the name right) The symbol was like a clubs of cards, 3 circles interlocking with an in flow of the stem part. Domain was water, flow and fluidity (and dams, apparently).
          We went down with the raft on the wide pink river, and the pace increased and there were people of all kinds lining both banks, watching. The wide river came to an immensely steep and deep waterfall, but there were pools and much smaller waterfalls on either side of it. All the water was pink.
          We navigated from pool to pool on the right of the waterfall mostly, each pool had people, some of the pools were dammed, and some were more open and easily flowing to the next pool. Some dams were high and some pools had people looking over the edge at the waterfalls below their pools.
          In a pool on the right, a very fat pink baby was sitting in the middle, I picked him up and held him and asked his name and it was Ezekial.
          Then a fly landed on my right shoulder and I looked to the right and saw a scrunched up face of my mother, with a tight smile. My breathing started to get constricted and I saw mustard yellow mangle of tubes like intestines in that pool.
          Then there was a lot of fingers stroking and pulling threads out of the dam around that pool, like pulling soft pink wax. Breathing continued to be restricted, and some becoming vapour or mist stuff that wasn’t very clear or droplets leaping from pool to pool as an alternative route to surface pools and waterfalls….
          Then went down down down into a vast pool of pink water, faster and faster towards a narrow tube at the bottom, and then flipped over onto my back and saw the sun far above and rose slowly floating towards the surface.
          Several times I saw purple and light green.
          The breathing thing was interesting if not so pleasant.
          The personal symbol may be connected to the flow from pool to pool somehow.

          #3452

          “There is a secluded pocket that would be an ideal safe landing spot on the north coast of the Bay of Beliefs” was the message that Downson received from the Magi. “El Refugio; it was a private shamanic holiday camp, but it was abandoned years ago. There are empty cabins and some basic facilities that could be restored and repaired.” And it’s not too far from Karmalott, Downson thought, It will have to do, for now. At least for the first batch of evacuees.

          #3424
          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            “Sir Ed, be a darling, summarise the messages. I can’t read 257.”

            Linda’s ezapper responded immediately: “Messages received over 48 hours. Sadie is invisible and requests transfer to 2222.”

            Fuck! I knew that! A wave of something akin to panic swept over her. She took a deep breath.

            “Anything else I should know?”

            “Management applied a temporary memory block to enable you to complete USB mission without distraction. The block has now been removed and full memory returned. Management are not in favour of the girl returning to 2222 at this stage and strongly suggest that you maximise the learning potentials of the invisibility scenario and determine the method of cloaking being utilised in order to assess the feasibility of, and probabilities for, future successful outcomes of Management objectives.”

            Linda sighed. The laughter of a group of young children playing tag in the distance drifted over. For a moment she wished she could deposit the ezapper in the trash can along with the USB stick and just walk away. Far away.

            “Plain english, Sir Ed.”

            “You need to get your butt over to Sadie and find out how she did it.” Sir Ed’s tone was appropriately sympathetic.

            #3413
            Jib
            Participant

              The data was encrypted in an old usb key, and no matter how hard she tried to break the code, it resisted her attempts. It even seemed that the harder she tried, the more encrypted it became. There are times when you have to call it a day.
              Linda had never been very good at computers. Nowadays, e-zappers were doing almost everything for you, except dry your hair or toast brioche slices.

              The last message from that mysterious Management was to leave the key in a trash can in Central Park. She complied gracefully as usual, glad to get rid off all those troubles. Mr Graystone was not very entertaining after his wife passed away, anyway. I don’t like to take care of people. She shivered at the thought of her old mother. It’s always been her nightmare. She tossed the usb key and the thought, and turned away towards more adventure.

              Then, she thought about Sadie. It’s been a long time since she had received any message from her. As if to answer, the e-zapper suddenly buzzed like a Tasmanian devil on coke.
              257 new messages from Sadie ? That girl is on a roll. Oh ! She’s in New York. How synchronistic!

              One more buzz. “Sorry, we didn’t want you distracted. The Management”
              She began to suspect the rendez-vous point was not so random after all.

              #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.

                #3369
                Jib
                Participant

                  Terry used to arrive early. She was always the first at the bar. She found stability and reassurance in the simple acts of opening the door, turning on the lights, preparing and organizing the tables and the little snacks for the customers.

                  That day, after she opened the door, imagining daylight pouring inside, cleansing the darkest corners with the Love of the Universe, she found an envelope on the counter near the cashier. It was sealed with red wax.

                  On it was written : “Terry Amar Bubble, from the Management”.
                  She felt her heart sank. Her mind went blank, certainly a way for her not to put words on the unthinkable.

                  When Cedric arrived later, he found Amar still in a trance, holding an envelop. He’d always been taught not to wake someone who was sleepwalking, but he’d also always had difficulties to not break rules. So he simply did what came first to his mind.

                  “Time to Wake up! Bitch!” He said, slapping Amar on the face with a queen’s grace. Cedric felt deeply satisfied with the sound of his slap. He’d been practicing on his own face in front of a mirror when he was younger.

                  “I received a letter”, muttered Amar. He handed the envelop over to Consuela.
                  “Hey! That’s for me too.” Her pronunciation of the last word hanging around in the air.
                  She showed the words to Terry who felt confused because it was now written “Terry Amar Bubble & Consuela Cedric Winnie, from the Management”.
                  “Let’s open it”, said Cedric, “I don’t want Maurana’s name on the envelope”. He tittered and broke the seal. It made a popping sound and released a golden powder.

                  “Wow, did you see that, Terry ? It’s like fairy dust.”

                  The message let them both confused. It simply said : “Your new intendant,Anna Purrna, arrives today. Be ready.”

                  #3327

                  Cheung Lok gave a look at the arched back massaging his feet. There was nothing enjoyable about it, he thought, unlike what many of his friends who loved a good foot massage said about it.
                  It was hurting like being trampled by a million wild rhinos, and the release of pain was even painful enough to not be enjoyable.
                  He had no choice, it was part of the social acts expected from him, and in that precise moment also a cover to get some particular piece of information.

                  An ugly person wearing outrageous make-up arrived on the seat next to him, making it crack like a pack of cheap matches, the arms of the chair protruding in the middle of the enormous waist.
                  Without a word spoken, he received the key, and was thankful that he didn’t need to stay longer.

                  He paid the boss with some cash, and left silently in the turmoil of the city.
                  He signalled the driver he’d walk to the office. Another peculiarity, as usually officials with his rank would never walk unless under extreme necessity, which was the same as saying never. But he enjoyed walking in the Chinese parts of the city, there were all sorts of smells and activity, it was never dull.

                  He had too laugh at the insane number of beauty parlours and salons. For all he could tell, either there weren’t enough of them, or they weren’t doing a good job.
                  For once, it had little to do with the robots replacing human attendants; massage and beauty parlours had been the most resistant to change, and for now, most still employed human personnel. That meant, there was still a large market share escaping the Corporation, and the prototype that Irina stole was supposed to change all that. He had to retrieve it by all means.

                  #3283

                  When Huhu arrived at his destination, Irina was sunbathing to the last rays of a big red gorgeous sunset that painted the waves in iridescent shades of purple.
                  At the same time, the sun’s course had already started a new day on the shores of New Zealand, where her sister was living, and she surely would be thrilled. Long had she waited for the 2222-2-22 marker.
                  Here, in Hawaii, they would still be in 2222-2-21, for a few more hours.
                  Irina started to shiver. 22°C her watch read. As if she needed to be any more quirky about this date…

                  “Good boy!” she said to the parrot, taking the key it was carrying. Huhu tittered in contentment, cracking some of the pistachios she fed him distractedly.

                  She’d just received additional information from the Management. Elusive as usual, and leaving a great deal to interpretation, including the interdiction.

                  They’d promised to get her her dream island as a retirement plan. Some said it was the original land of the mermaids (who used to have as much feathers as Rio Carnival’s samba dancers), right off Italy’s Amalfi’s coast. Among its perks, it boasted to incorporate 8 staff, and a private grotto — that, if anything else than her fine waist line, would surely entice Sanso into other steamy booty calls.
                  She’d seen the pictures of the properties, her first thought though was that she needed to shoot the interior decorator. In short, it was almost her moral duty to get it, and change the decor. On the whole, she was convinced the island would do her good.

                  So, when she looked back at the previous instructions to see how good she’d done on her mission’s objectives, she shrugged a little. She’d understood instinctively right when it was delivered that it was a clever cipher, especially given the late date shift. So she had reinterpreted the actual commands, and leisurely waited for the travellers to appear, and get comfy. By now, she was certain they trusted her telepathic commands well enough, so that solved the trust conundrum.
                  Basically, she was a major proponent of her own interpretation of old Ho’oponopono rituals. Instead of the usual mantra “I love you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Thank you.” hers was a bit more straightforward and was around the lines of “Green sickness to you. Peace be with you, and bugger off.
                  Said a few times with proper intonation and inner work, and it was know to her to alter dramatically any block or resistance into a great flow of pure unfettered energy. So she had adamant faith that all she needed to do to complete her mission was to focus on herself and solve the resistance within by letting go.

                  The last message was short.

                  22 the code * whale that * BO

                  It could only mean one thing. 22 was a clever cipher meaning conundrum as in a catch 22, but also an obvious reference to the temperature. So it could only mean one thing: tamper with the code on the 22nd, and send it on the way to the whales, with a bug on it.

                  “Mr R, please, fetch!”

                  The discrete, yet always present robot caught the key with grace, and on her careful instructions, proceeded to alter the code of the key.

                  Irina was enjoying herself immensely, and found it a pity nobody could witness her true genius. “The ones who’ll read that key later, well… they are in for such a wild goose chase!”
                  The second part of St Germain’s encoded hologram was now ripe with wonderful and bewildering information about blubbits and the magic kingdom of Peasland with obscure and arcane references of magic numbers like 57, that would have anybody sane turn mad as a hatter in no time. Hopefully the whales would be immune to the nonsense, but probably not humans.

                  Now was the final part of the plan.

                  “Mr R?”
                  “Madam?”
                  “I hope you are ready for this delicate reinsertion mission. Do you still have that octopus suit of yours ready?”
                  “Of course, Madam. Right away Madam.”

                  #3248
                  TracyTracy
                  Participant

                    The dogs barking woke Lisa up; at first she assumed she had woken up disorientated and disgruntled because of that, but then she recalled all the screaming, no, more like bellowing, she’d been doing in her dream. Intense passionate bellowing howls, like an expulsion of pained frustrated energy, of outrage. Frustratingly, she recalled no details. There had been a similar dream the previous Easter when she was sick ~ the same kind of howls, and she had felt much better afterwards, but she wasn’t sick now ~ in fact, she had been feeling better than she had in a long time.
                    Sipping her tea and still feeling cranky at being woken up, Lisa recalled the strange phone call she’d received the night before, and had a feeling it might be an element of her dream. One of her neighbours from just outside the village phoned, Clarissa. Clarissa was a young widow; since her elderly husband had died some months ago, and she had lived alone with her eight dogs. There had been nobody to ensure she took the medication she needed for her condition, which had resulted in a series of challenging episodes, alarming the locals. A few weeks ago, one of Juan’s sheep had been talking to her and wouldn’t stop, so she killed it in the lane outside her house. The sheep kept talking to her, so she cut it’s head off (a gruesome struggle by all accounts, although thankfully Lisa hadn’t witnessed it herself). The severed sheeps head continued to talk to the troubled Clarissa, so she kept the head on her verandah. That was the last thing that Lisa had heard when she received the unexpected phone call.
                    Clarissa was polite and friendly on the phone, inviting Lisa and Jack over for drinks ~ insisting really with an edge of desperation in her voice. Lisa declined the invitition, and omitted to mention that Jack was out playing poker. If it had not been for the sheep incident, Lisa might have responded differently, but her sense of responsibility to her own animals made her cautious. Then, to her horror, Clarissa offered to come round and feed Lisa’s dogs.
                    As soon as the long and insistent phone call ended, Lisa gathered all the dogs up into the gated top patio; a little later she was gratified to hear a noisy game of football going on in the street outside. Had she over reacted? Should she have had more compassion for the distressed young woman? Lisa lit another cigarette, feeling confused. She had only met Clarissa once, many years ago, and had no idea why she had called her, or where she got her phone number from. She knew of her because of the convoluted connecting links between them ~ Clarissa’s husband had been her own friends father. And she had heard about the various incidents since he had died from other neighbours.
                    Lisa had the unsettling feeling that she had refused a call for help. On the other hand, she felt that she had responded to the call for help in merely speaking to Clarissa on the phone. Lisa had been kindly towards her, although not encouraging of any physical contact.
                    Lisa sighed. She felt a stronger connection to Clarissa now, but was unsure what it would entail.

                    #3246

                    Jonbert’s robot had easily found the location, but it was in standby in a cafe near the techromancer’s hut, posing as a tourist in a flower shirt with a straw hat and a glass of coconut oil.

                    Jonbert had received additional information about the whale network which seemed to change slightly his plans. The Ghost Whale who was supposed to preside over the rituals was apparently delayed in Time, making the retrieval of the second key problematic.
                    He would have loved to rudely prompt Linda Paul to get her Queens in alignment, but for now, there was no point to that yet. He’d better leave them at their little escapade, under close surveillance from his robot.
                    In all cases, they would all have to wait more in the nexus of times.
                    Using his ivory carved forking long shoehorn, he scratched his itchy back. It was for him rather infuriating to be stuck, he sighed “Stuck in 2222!”. The robot bearing those news had learnt it the hard way.

                    He stroked distractedly his luscious mane of red hair. At 153, thanks to regular nano-implants, Jonbert was incredibly healthy, in a very healthy and hairy manner, unlike many others he wouldn’t name.

                    #3220
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      Irina wondered why Management was insisting she take a vacation in January. The memo she received only raised more questions, both of a philosophical as well as practical nature.

                      Irina
                      Your mission is to get the time travellers to trust you. Then await further instructions.
                      Faithfully, Management
                      Appendix 1: there is no such thing as trust
                      Appendix 2: believe in trust totally, and believe in it not at all.
                      Appendix 3: if you are trusting that there is no trust then you are trusting in something.
                      Appendix 4: FOR THOSE WHO NEED TO KNOW: it is January 18th, 2222

                      #3204

                      Linda Paul was reviewing the leather-bound copy of the anthology of Walt van Wharff works she’d received weeks ago from an anonymous source. Van Wharff was apparently from XVIIth century in Newherland a leading authority in walvissen wetenschap or whalology as it were.
                      Linda wasn’t really even remotely interested in whales, but the book had picked her curiosity, or more exactly, the pink post-it on it, signed with a glitter lipstick lips mark, on which was written in some mysterious handwriting PBWY AND BO if you see that dearie, you know what it means

                      She had no clue what it was about, but the antique book had some interesting qualities, and she soon had found herself inexplicably engrossed in its reading.
                      The theory behind it was baffling, dealing with whale sightings, aperiodic tiling and crystal diffraction, but she managed to intuit that it had to do with detection of whale migratory patterns.

                      Given the literary quality of the book (or lack thereof) and his very confuse language constructs, its author was by no doubt dead in a state of miserable unfamousness. Notwithstanding, Linda Paul understood there was an unfinished equation that would reveal when they would appear next, which was likely to reveal a huge crystal of exotic properties.
                      So long as it glittered, she was already hooked onto that quest.

                      A few investigations and equations-solving on her ezapper later, she had found the next coordinates that she’d texted to her only current operatives, Sadie and her misfits.
                      She hoped they wouldn’t sabotage this one, and thus offer them all a second chance to book a full season for their adventures.

                      #3190
                      Jib
                      Participant

                        Linda Paul, undressed and without make-up, was reading a book in his favourite rainbow couch. The book could be any of the ones in the bookshelves, actually he had picked it up randomly. His mind was musing about the last events and the last message he received on his e-zapper.

                        That someone was working against him and his teams was clear. It had always been like that since he first tried his mama shoes, dresses and make-up. He remembered the preparation of his first lip-sync when he was nine, for an x-mas eve. Grand ma ‘Paul almost had a fit; that’s when he realized how powerful his influence over people was. So a case of show cancelation and clogged sewer was by no mean worrying.

                        But the message was another piece of muffin. Linda Paul took his zapper on the crystal coffee table and checked the last entry. “Make preparation for next mission. Transfer elephant and soprano to sixth quadrant 4×2. Don’t forget the frogs, we’ll need them. Send queens asap.”

                        In his experience, asap usually meant tomorrow. The poor girls wouldn’t have the time to rest and recover from the sewer, which was still clogged by the way, and the frogs were useful with their slimy skin to go past it more easily. Which meant we wouldn’t have the time or the resources to unclog the sewer until the next mission. They’ll have to move in the time drag school as soon as possible.

                        Linda texted his professional shopper team, they’ll need new dresses, fake nails, make-up, and wigs tonight. She’ll organize a little soiree to introduce the team formally to the time (fish)network.

                        And with a blurry zoom effect, she looked at the bottle of blue glowing pills on the coffee table. She’ll need them sooner than she expected.

                        #3189

                        2222 had been hailed the pinnacle of human development (that is, until 3333 was at reach), which prompted a whole Time Tourism business during this year.
                        It required a lot of finicky logistics, as to ensure a stable sustaining of this particular year and avoid predatory behaviour which could potentially lead to the collapse of the future as it was known —a matter which in most cases wouldn’t be given two figs about, but which here, could have dramatic repercussions on the ITBC (International Time Bank Conundrum) itself.
                        As a matter of fact, it wasn’t before 2255 that Elbert Twostains elaborated the first working version of his Unified Theory of Time Puddles, hence ushering humanity into a bright future, and past, and present, where and when nothing would ever be the same again.
                        As such, there quickly was an embargo declared by the ITBC on any close relationship and ancestor, and connected people which could lead to a disruption of their juicy business.
                        Apart from these minor restrictions which were for the good people’s own good, a lot was actually possible and allowed. Some maverick travellers used to vocally resent and disapprove of those restriction, but mostly because they thought the theory would have been discovered anyway, Elbert or not, and secretly because they enjoyed beating the drums of the restrictions (which restrictions tended to get quite restricted themselves past 2222).

                        Jonbert Dirk had made a fortune as a Time Tourism moghul, or so the official story went. Truth be told, much of his fortune was amassed thanks to time smuggling and past treasures plundering and reselling on the black market of antiques. Let’s not be hasty to judge the old man though, It was a tricky business back then, to find the proper time to retrieve a given antique so that your precious item didn’t look like the cheap porcelain fresh out a sweatshop in Sina.

                        By 2233, he was a multi bullionaire (billionaire in gold bars, as gold was needed to time-travel, it was an even more precious commodity than before), and had outlets with his brand all over the places and times.
                        Like the rich men of the past who had themselves built splendid yachts big as cities, he was of more modest and practical tastes, but not insensitive to the display of power this offered. So he had himself built a spacious submarine richly decorated and equipped with the last generation of TTEs (Time Travelling Engine). Over time, he’d found the use of a submarine much easier to conceal during his time travels, and like a Captain Nemo of the future, enjoyed the luxury of whale watching and underwater symphonies while sipping his caipirinha in the pool of his submarine.

                        Few people knew how to contact him, so it was with some surprise that he’d received the request for genetically enhanced pacific frogs. Belligerent frogs were all the fad in last century, but this century had a soft spot for the smaller, and more resilient pacific singing frogs.
                        A man of his immense resources was definitely the way to go if you needed such rare and exotic species delivered to you in short notice.
                        He was in a good mood today, so he signaled the order to the central computer.
                        As the batch was dispatched, he smiled wryly, thinking he had waited for the inquirer to be indebted to him for quite some time. Shrinking old was a mean business, and he had not amassed enough gold to jump past 3333, where life everlasting was discovered. He was certain this curious and elusive fellow would be in position to help.

                        #3156
                        Jib
                        Participant

                          Sadie almost had a fit when she received the models for their party attire. Blue, Red and Yellow, cork bums bigger than whales’ head and, that was a surprise, instead of wigs, three cornered hats looking like a galley with oars. She sent a message to Linda Paul.
                          “There must be a mistake, we are supposed not to create ripples through time by introducing…” she thought about the right words… “new fashion trends”.
                          The e-zapper buzzed as the answer arrived.
                          “Sorry sweety, those were the only outfits available at the moment. They came directly from China. Cheap, cheap. Crisis for everyone. I’m sure you understand, Sadie darling.”

                          Sadie thought of a diplomatic way to tell the news to her proteges. The hell with China, she thought. They were in the very time period that inspired the Queens for all the wigs and the fancy dresses that would come with Marie-Antoinette. They just had to be creative and follow the thread of maids to help them steal some more interesting clothes.

                          #3138
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            “What on earth are you doing?” asked Cedric, watching with amazement as Pseu suddenly ran off towards the piles of construction materials near the Royal Opera House of the Palace.
                            “Shhh! I’ll catch you up in a minute.”
                            Pseu had received an urgent message from one of the other characters on her chaptershiftwatch, a young fellow in Grenoble called Jacques Coctuit. Jacques, like many of his friends and neighbours, was crouched on the roof, throwing tiles at the soldiers below. When Jacques ran out of tiles, his burning desire for more tiles blasted forth, and Pseu registered the request, and simultaneously broadcast a request for tiles.
                            The heaps of doubly fired tiles scattered around the building site of the new opera house would be perfect, and although their disappearance would be noticed, it would not create as much fuss as would any new materials disappearing. Nobody would mind much if a pile of rubble to be discarded went missing. Quickly and efficiently, Pseu teleported the tiles to the roof Jacques was sitting on, who noticed merely that there were more tiles than he thought, and would only later, after the adrenaline had worn off, wonder at how they had appeared in a pile by his side.
                            Pseu had one of the tiles diverted to The City as a memento, to add to her collection of Key Incident Link Tiles (or KILTs for short) for the new Teleport Folly at the Estate.

                            #3136

                            The youngest maid, Adeline, quickly placed one of the rat like toys at the bottom of the large basket of laundry she had come to collect.

                            The Queen has so many; she will not even notice this small one. And there are two of them. What does an old woman like the Queen want with toys? she reasoned.

                            It was Adeline’s small brother’s birthday tomorrow and there would be no fine party for him. She knew he would love this strange toy.The few measly coins she received each week for slaving over her mistress left nothing for luxuries. It was barely enough to survive. Although she knew she should be grateful she was not on the streets like so many others. She noticed a small tear in the seam of the toy. All the better! If she were found out she could say she was taking it to mend. She knew if she were not believed there would be a heavy price to pay.

                            #3048
                            TracyTracy
                            Participant

                              The previous evening, Dory had been contemplating the willy nilly mob rule aspects of collective weather situations. Summer, to all intents and purposes, had already arrived, and yet the day was blustery and rather cool, and Dory wondered why she hadn’t been consulted by the neighbours and asked to vote on the days weather. A shadowy thought crossed her mind that perhaps she had forgotten to turn up at the neighbourhood consensus weather station to cast her vote. Then she forgot about the whole topic of the weather, and when she strolled outside later, much to her delight, the sky was a marvellously creative watercolour of white plumes and bubbles on a baby blue background. Back inside shortly afterwards, she received a message about the weather conditions in Sussex, something about the Gulf Streaming crashing and having to be rebooted. Well, she thought to herself, if the people in Sussex don’t turn up to vote at their local weather consensus station, they have only themselves to blame! This is a true story, Dory said, to nobody in particular, and to whoever was listening.

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