Daily Random Quote

  • A yellow monkey jumped from the top of the fridge onto Dido’s hair. She screamed like a beaver and dropped the ice cream jar she was devouring voraciously. Mater, who just happened to enter the kitchen at that very moment, rolled her eyes. When it was not curry cookies, it was icecream. If she continued to eat ... · ID #3922 (continued)
    (next in 11h 02min…)

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  • #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

      #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.”

      #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.

      #3278
      Jib
      Participant

        Terry had always been sort of a follower type of person. The trouble was when her friends were going in two different directions, or like now in one direction and one stay-still. Which one should she follow ? Consuela was a small dot of plancton in the immensity of the ocean, and yet she dared launch herself in the unknown. The others were sticking together, kinda. Sadie was desperately trying to send messages or to receive instructions, it wasn’t very clear, and Maurana was pouting since Consuela was gone.

        That’s not a real profession, Amar, she got startled when she heard her dad’s voice as if he was just behind. She turned with a jerk of her right hip, but no sign of him.

        That was as if she’d been stung by a bee. She’s been waiting all her life, now she wanted to move. Without warning to her friends, she began to follow the trail of bubbles left by Consuela. The others could follow if they wanted, but she wouldn’t left her friend alone in the dark water.

        #3271
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Pseu realized with an unpleasant jolt that she had been neglecting the dragglers for far too long while she’d been sojourning in the City, and for one dreadful moment realized that she had completely lost track of them, and that they might be in danger. She excused herself politely, not that a polite excuse was necessary amongst such wide and weird souls, and sent some tentacles of attention in search of the dragglers.
          She heard sounds of watery warbles and burbling blips like farts in a bath and wondered for a moment if all was well and she was being intrusive. Bathrooms were generally considered out of bounds, particularly when time travelling or remote viewing pre 2020. But something about the sounds started to register as a language, and Pseu continued to listen, though still observing the protocol blindfold, as it were, not wishing to disturb anyone’s private bathing rituals. Were farts in a bath a kind of language, she wondered? Had she been missing out on potentially valuable information by not paying attention?

          #3265

          “Yes, I could be able to plot a new course, without doubt, even with that tile missing” Belen said to one of the dolphins of the neighbourhood who had come for an update on the stranded ghost galleon.

          I was weeks of Simultaneous Time, and being stranded was particularly difficult for a Conscious Breather such as Belen, even if the ghost whale now didn’t really need to breathe, the force of habit was strong.

          Peter, his usual jovial self had said nothing, and had merely enjoyed some forays inland, looking for the tile and the conch, occasionally bringing news from the strange neighbours of the nearby village.

          In the end, Belen couldn’t really remember who was who in the strange tales he made of it, there were so many humans involved and truly, their earthly concerns weren’t relevant to hers, and there was only little they could do to help with the situation.

          The Harmonium Convergence was about to start, the crystalline aquatic organs would start to play the tunes for the new dreams of the new era to be sung.
          And yet, the so-called magical conch was still missing. Belen dreaded coming back ashamed to the Youngers without the ancient divination tool. Frankly, it was more of a permission slip, as her orca friend Batshatsassani called it. She would say to her that “every modality, every ritual, every tool, every technique is a permission slip that allows yourself to give you permission to be more of who you are.”
          She knew she didn’t need it really, but she liked the rituals of old, and to be honest was a bit fearful of not only revealing they were not that important, but more, introducing new ones… Would the whale and whole cetacean family be ready for such an end to the religious era?

          While she was struggling with the thoughts, she managed to guard them from the psychic prying of her dolphin friend, by misleading him on meanders of the endless memory halls that she was guardian of.

          Peter suddenly appeared with a popping sound. “I think I found the conch!” he exclaimed with glee in his eyes. “Yes, it’s Igor, you know Igor…”
          “What about Igor, darling, you know I lost complete track of all these landers strange names”
          “He’s the guy who stole the…” Peter stopped realizing this wasn’t really a question about Igor. “The conch, he brought it back with him!”

          Then to his and her own surprise, Belen replied
          “Forget about the conch, darling, I’m sorry I’ve led you to believe it was important, but it’s not, not really. It’s just a ordinary object to lead the philistines astray. It’s not more powerful than the whiffling of a shillelagh. The true treasure is always within ourselves.
          Gather the birds, and let us prepare to leave in the next hour, the Harmonium Convergence is about to start in 2222, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

          Baffled by the revelation, Peter knew enough to not contradict his whale partner, and went merrily with the new flow which seemed so full of excitement and potential new science revelations.

          Belen had a thought “Actually Peter my dear, any other conch we can find will do just as well. Just pick one on the beach before we leave. Dipping it in the Time stream will crystallize it just as well.”

          Peter replied excitedly “Whale that. Let’s spanghew that boat to 2222!”

          Just as a thought of love for the gift of such inner revelation, before she left the nice spot of the Spanish coast, Belen cleared her throat and :yahoo_sick: retched the most lovely green scented blob of ambergris on the beach, next to the spiral made of broken white shells that some drifters had drawn on the beach a few days ago.

          #3262

          After they’d jumped in the robot (which had shapeshifted into a sand buggy big enough for them), they had to cling tight to the railing of the light vehicle, as the robot was driving recklessly into a jungle of unexpected leaves and green vegetation tentacles.
          It wasn’t long before they were back on the gorgeously rugged Hawai’ian beach, taken on an unexpected dune racing along the coast.
          The queens looked exhilarated, but Sadie was a bit overwhelmed, especially after what the Techromancer had told her.

          The wetsuits fitting session passed in a blur, as the breathable elastic material was made to adapt to their bodies. Really, the only thing left to choose would have been color, but it was able to change itself at will, with very little shades it couldn’t replicate to perfection, even the Bollywood shine and twinkle that was all the craze in the 2019s.

          “But we’re in the 2222s now!”, Maurana had voiced her disapproval of her choice of glittery fashion. Little did Sadie care about it. Her mission seemed to stretch to sidetracks and unneeded distractions on her path to Great Happiness.

          All four of them clad in their fancy bathsuits and looking more like hippy frogs than sassy mermaids, they followed the robot on the miles-long deck that led to the horizon.

          After half an hour of walking on the narrow bridge, they were at a good distance from the coast and Terry started to pant and breathe heavily in her green sardine scales costume.
          “Stop! I got to catch my breathe, how long it’s going to be now? We were promised a soirée! Not a walk on the wild side!”

          The robot, rolled back a few steps, and turned briskly.
          “Actually, Sir, this is a perfect spot for your whale training”

          And before they realized, the robot had opened the deck under their feet, plunging all of them in the ocean screaming.

          Thanks to her excellent training and natural sharp reflexes, Sadie was the first to realize a few things.

          • They were all alive
          • They were able to breathe underwater
          • Their suit enabled them to talk and understand each other in what sounded like whale-speech.
          • A looming shape was quickly closing on them, looking dangerously like that of a giant toothy white shark.
          • Her mind was a mysterious thing.

          Why? Simply because the previous thought was coinciding with another one which was saying unequivocally that she still hadn’t found a proper dragqueen’s name for herself, and yet another one, even more funny than all others, saying in between bursts of infectious laughter that her last words could well be whale speech, and would make a hell of an epitaph.

          She floated for a time moment stretched into an eternity, weighing all the rippling probabilities and wondered what her next move would be, as she was in the void of creation, hovering under a vortex of thoughts, with a sea of twinkling stars beckoning her further down the ocean’s clear bottomless depths.

          #3259

          The early morning sea mist was evaporating as Fanella strolled around the village picking up dog shit. She reminded herself to fully appreciate the damp coolness, before the scorching summer sun enveloped them in a bone warming blanket, and then reminded herself to appreciate the bone warming effects of the full sun later. As she retraced her steps she noted how differently everything looked on a return journey, how piles of dog shit had escaped her notice while going one way, but were obvious on the way back. It reminded her of something she’d read recently in one of the books that Lisa insisted she read to improve her English ~ A Field Guide To Getting Lost . Hah! Had there been a cruel irony in that choice of book? Fanella had felt lost ever since she arrived in 2020. But according to the book, getting lost wasn’t a bad thing, not at all.

          To be lost is to be fully present, and to be fully present is to be capable of being in uncertainty and mystery.

          Fanella sighed. All sounds very philosophical, but I’m still stuck in the wrong time zone.
          Another passage from the book popped into her head:

          We treat desire as a problem to be solved, address what desire is for and focus on that something and how to acquire it rather than on the nature and the sensation of desire, though often it is the desire between us and the object of desire that fills the space in between with the blue of longing.

          Fanella gazed up at the sky ~ the blue of longing was taking over, as the white wisps of clouds dispersed.

          The people thrown into other cultures go through something of the anguish of the butterfly, whose body must disintegrate and reform more than once in its life cycle…. how often the early stages of change or cure may mimic deterioration. Cut a chrysalis open, and you will find a rotting caterpillar. What you will never find is that mythical creature, half caterpillar, half butterfly….No, the process of transformation consists almost entirely of decay.

          Charming, Fanella thought, just bloody charming. Rotting soup of change, that just about sums it up. No wonder I wake up every morning with my bones feeling like mush.

          #3256
          Jib
          Participant

            Linda Pol was struggling with the contracts formulation. Things had evolved almost too swiftly in the past —or should she say future, it could be confusing at times—, and now they had to rephrase a few paragraphs. Of course, the herd of lawyers were doing all that, but she had to check after them, she had to be sure they didn’t make a mistake.

            The e-zapper buzzed. First, Linda Pol dismissed it as she would have done with a fly of no importance. But you know how flies of no importance can really bother you when they keep buzzing around when you are trying to focus on something arduous. The fly kept buzzing until Linda Pol couldn’t stand it anymore. She looked at the name on the transparent screen and caught herself whining inwardly.

            It was her mother.

            She breathed deeply twice and prepared herself. All that took a lot less time that it took to write it. She answered with a deep male voice.

            “What do you want mum ?”

            “Your father and I…”
            Linda Pol shrieked silently. It wasn’t good when her mother began her conversation with those words. But she waited patiently.

            “… have been discussing about this book you told us to read. The Sands of the Species I think it was.”

            “Spices”, Linda Pol corrected automatically. And she winced about that. She could see her mother smile triumphantly. She had her son’s attention.

            “Well, that’s what I said.”
            No point arguing with that, Linda thought, _you know that’s what she’s looking for.

            “Anyway”, continued her mother after a pause, “your father and I have been discussing about who the grand-father really is. He thinks that it’s the main character’s mother after her operation and time travel, but I’m sure it’s his second grand son that was also his uncle and his niece.”

            Linda sighed, they already had that conversation before, and he struggled not to use that excuse with her mother, which would certainly start an argument, and he didn’t really had time for that with the new contracts. His mind noticed that it had started to rain. The drops rhythmically punctuating her mother’s sentences at the beginning, and then as the one way conversation went on, one drop per word. She always had a sense of rhythm, it was in her genes. Or that’s what people said anyway. Unfortunately, with his mother, that sense was mostly coupled with irritation and restraint.

            But the brain works in almost magical ways, and the rhythm of the drops associated with his assistant’s bum made him thought of something.

            “Mum”, she said when she could place a word, “I’m sending you a link that explains it all. Sweet dreams, I love you too.” She hanged up quickly. Don’t let her place one more word.

            The drag asked her e-zapper to find the link and send it to her mother. It’ll keep her mother busy for a moment, enough for Linda to finish her reading the contract. She realized that it made a lot more sense now.

            #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.

              #3229

              It was said long ago that the role of the parrot is that of opening communication centers. When this totem appears, one should look to see if one needs assistance in understanding views that are different from one’s own.
              Huhu didn’t care about any of these human assigned meanings to its existence.

              When the grip of Irina’s mind over Huhu the parrot was suddenly released, it found itself out of sight of the floating balloon and struggled to glide over the oceans’ air currents without losing too much altitude as well as precious degrees.

              The air was cold and the ocean had no end in sight, and if a parrot knew despair, Huhu would have succumbed to it already. But it was a brave parrot, as though inhabited by some divine spark, and it continued bravely, only guided by his senses.

              When it was about to faint from exhaustion, and dive dangerously close to the sea, was the precise moment when it noticed fumes swirling around in strange vortices erupting from the sea.
              A strange boat appeared at the surface with a shining light.

              Little did Huhu know, but it was the ghost galleon Santa Rosa which had a special thing for birds in distress, and would appear at times of need, a haven of luxuriant foliage and birds cackle, a benediction of safety in the turmoil of the seas.

              Nobody knew clearly when the galleon sunk, one of the last of his kinds in the Old Continent, probably around the early 1111s, but one thing was sure, it was a ghost ship long before Huhu was born and brought to Versailles in 1757.

              A ghostly form picked his soft body from the ground, delicately removing the key entangled on its foot, then placed the bird with great care on a bed of moss.

              We can go now Belen said the man to the whale captain of the ghost ship.
              Whale that! came the answer.

              #3226

              With years of intense Happiness training, and being herself a certified Happiness Coach™ in Rainbow Unified Bliss®, Lisa was reasonably adept at dispelling the occasional bouts of frustration that the six time travelers were experiencing while familiarizing themselves with the new time frame. Learning the new languages, both the local Spanish and the common language of the village tribe, English, was of paramount importance, and Mirabelle in particular was having difficulties. A basic vocabulary was easy enough, but when it came to grammar, Mirabelle was hopeless. Thus her communications were of a very basic and rudimentary nature, and she often felt unable to express her feelings, or her thoughtful observations on the many nuances, similarities and differences and overlaps of the current time and 18th century France. Not only was she obliged to learn two new languages, but was also learning to read and write. Often it seemed like all work and no play, too much pressure to perform, to learn, to do well at her studies, and yet play breaks were always frustrated in some manner because of her difficulties in communicating clearly. The fact that the others were progressing better with the languages made her feel alone, adrift in a sea of her own unexpressed thoughts.
              Adeline had a more relaxed approach to the language difficulties, less inclined to struggle with it and more likely to chatter endlessly to Boris instead, and ask him to translate when she needed some help. She had discovered an interest, and some considerable talent, in the art room, experimenting with the paints and materials, and spent many happy hours engrossed in her paintings and playful collages of mundane (but to her, bizarre) objects. She was like a magpie, collecting items that caught her eye. The bright colours and smoothness of plastic appealed to her, especially when transformed in shape by one of those odd little plastic fire making gadgets. Sunglasses were another favourite, especially the different shades of lens. It was not unusual to hear one of the villagers complaining that the lids to the tupperware containers were missing, or all the bottle tops had been removed, to find they had all been glued together, with the flyswatter, a few odd flipflop beach shoes and the mirror lenses out of someones shades. But the villagers were on the whole amused, generously indulgent, and good naturedley rolled their eyes at her creative curiosity.
              Boris was practical and capable, and true to form, was learning rapidly. He had no particular desire to express vague rambling thoughts (indeed, he was not a vague and rambling man by nature) and turned his attention to more practical matters. When he wasn’t chatting to Adeline, he was watching Jack tinkering inside car engines, or playing with Pierre’s camera and had quickly learned how to upload and play with the images on the computer. Often in the evenings Adeline would sit beside him and watch drowsily as the images changed in front of her eyes on the screen.
              Ivan and Igor were learning what they needed to learn while doing it ~ tending the goats and chickens, working outside on the land, or helping with various building projects. They had taken to the local bars like ducks to water, and spent the evenings downing copious amounts of beer and wine with the locals, all of them babbling and shouting incoherently, but seeming to understand each other in the camaraderie of inebriation.

              #3224

              “What? You think I’m shallow? That I spend too much time on my appearance?”
              Terry Bubble paused a bit then said “Well, maybe a bit, of course yes! I guess that’s what being a drag queen means. You take care of yourself. You enjoy playing with your appearance. You can’t be amateurish about it, it’s about creating an illusion, it’s about making people believe for a moment,…” then he added pensively “and maybe yourself a little”.

              “If you ask me, big beautiful chocolate Maurana Banana, what others think about you is none of your damn nosy business.”

              The three of them crammed at the back of a tiny flying tuk-tuk with their glowing perspiration under the sunscreen and layers of makeup, attempting to keep the appearances up for as long as they could was extremely entertaining.

              “Get ready! We arrive at the drop-off in a minute!” Sadie shouted. At the front of the hovercraft, she was carefully guiding the driver through the jungle thanks to the energy map on the ezapper.

              #3222

              With years of intense Happiness training, and being herself a certified Happiness Coach™ in Rainbow Unified Bliss®, Sadie knew when to notice she was stuck and, even better, what to do about it.
              Techniques varied: some focusing on breathing, others on following impulse and all that, but most of them had in common that rabid thoughts had to be put to sleep, and the focus had to be kept on the immediate now.
              The beauty of the Hawaii island was easy on the eyes, although she could still find objections lurking in the corner of her mind that the beaches were scarce on this island, with many shores a blistering hot pan of molten lava rocks ceaselessly beaten by the waves.
              Then the sound of her companions came rousing some disturbance in her Rainbow thoughts, as she found out was mostly an annoyance with herself and her hair, the neat bowl cut starting to look a bit rugged on the edges.

              Again, the rabid thoughts were back. She had to go deeper, cling to a joyful experience, that pure moment of satisfaction. But the flow and inpouring of love stopped again like a sea anemone retracting at the light touch of a clown fish.

              She restrained the thought of loudly using the F word, and as well refrained herself from the desire to delete everything.
              She noticed a few tadpoles which weren’t here before, slithering in a little pool of water next to the spot where she was. She’d almost forgotten about the singing frogs. That such little creature could do so marvelous feats of logistics rekindled her spirits.
              What if she could just harness a little bit of her own energy. She started to list the things she was good at, besides haircuts.

              “I’m fucking good at limitations, and following other’s expectations” was what she came up with after some minutes listing some things without much conviction.
              “Bugger Linda Paul, and those ninc…” There it is she noticed again the thought.
              That’s what it’s about…

              You have to be nice and be quiet, Sadeline, the voice of her mean Breton grand-mother was saying. To which her equally loathable aunts would chime in religious rubbish of being nice and saintly and all.
              You have to be nice and be quiet, Sadeline, or go out of my way and die alone.
              She’d tried to exorcise the old goat, to rid of her, to appease her, to connect to the better version of herself that she is now since her transition. Well, nothing worked. She couldn’t find the angle. The old woman was still to her core a haunting and menacing presence with her mean irate insensitive lack of professed love.
              Maybe they’d developed better techniques in 2222, she suddenly thought. Of course…
              And then, Linda Paul wouldn’t have to know.

              “Girls?” she said in a sweet imperative voice (and slightly raucous, for the air was dry) “what do you think about having ourselves pay a visit to the local techromancer, I’ve seen the signs everywhere on the way to the beach. It’ll be a fun stop on our mission”.

              The three divas moaned under the sun, not specially enthusiastic at the effort, but then, Cedric, still himself haunted by the Russian’s vision managed to convince the others that some romance or exorcism or both, would do them great.

              #3215

              So this is 2222, thought Sadie, relaxing back in the warm sand. Not bad so far! I wonder where we are. Further along the beach she could hear the sound of laughter and bickering as the boys and Sanso practised their moves for the upcoming show—the details of which were still under wraps. Linda Paul, now she had sobered up, seemed to have forgotten her strange request for Sadie to take on a drag queen identity. ”Thank Flove!” Sanso, however, with unexpected enthusiasm had taken on the non de plume “Miss Titters” and insisted that he was going to join the 3 divas on stage for their closing number.

              “Miss Titters! A bit childish,” Sadie rolled her eyes, then noticing that it did not feel good to be judgemental, chastised herself. That didn’t feel good either so she chastised herself for chastising herself. Fortunately at that moment a Juicy Lemon came through on her e-zapper interrupting her rampage of chastisement with perfect synchronicity.

              Oh just release that little bird

              ***

              Irina perched on the edge of her antique Rocchetti sofa—a beautiful piece of furniture over 200 years old, made from faux fur and crafted in the shape of a cartoon bull—and looked critically at the hologram of her mermaid outfit rotating in the centre of the room.

              “What do you think, Mr R?”

              ”It is an exquisite piece of design engineering, Ma’am. The organ you see in the chest cavity can operate as a lung or a gill enabling you breathe as a human or to extract oxygen from the water. The circulatory system has been engineered to withstand different water pressures. The skeletal system is light and pliable and designed for speed and agility under the water. The eyes have been designed to ensure you will be able to correctly focus both above and under water. The intricate design of the ears means that you will be able to hear as a human above water or use sonar communication under water.”

              ”Yes, yes, most interesting, Mr R. But do you think my bum looks fat in that tail?”

              ”Not at all, Ma’am. Your figure is beautifully proportioned and the tail only accentuates your womanly curves.”

              ”I think that shade of pink is much better. What do you think, Mr R?”

              ”The carmine pink suits the undertones of your skin most favourably, ma’am. It is preferable to the cerise pink you chose earlier. Although that was an excellent choice too, of course”.

              ”Wonderful! Print it out then, Mr R. And print out your Octopus suit at the same time. I feel an unusual emotion which may even be excitement. Hawaii, here we come”

              #3210
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                – 346:
                RICHARD: I guess I have a question about incarnations or parallel realities. Do humans experience focuses as other species, and specifically dolphins? ‘Cause I had an experience with a powerful hallucinogen at one time, that I was actually remembering of a time when we were all — or I and other people that I was with — dolphins. I mean, it sounds crazy!

                But then as I’ve been reading about it, I heard about this tribe in South America, where you mentioned I had a previous focus. It’s an area where there are these pink dolphins that actually are said to be able to shift their body structure. It sounds crazy, but I’ll just throw it out there anyway! They change their appearance and come out of the water basically, and then go back. The tribe that lives there protects these dolphins. If anybody goes anywhere near them trying to harm them, they will kill them, and it’s out of love, not anger.

                I’m just very intrigued by this particular species of dolphins. I’m just wondering, ‘cause I really had a close … I mean, I had an experience where I thought I was breathing … I mean, I was under the water in a hot tub for five minutes! So it was just because of my belief system, maybe, that I was not needing to breathe air anymore? (Pause) I guess that’s a question! (Laughing)

                ELIAS: Very well. This … you may not be discounting yourself in this in your questioning, and not holding fearfulness with myself that I shall view this as an inconsequential question, for in actuality, this is an interesting question.

                Early within the onset of these sessions, I offered information to this particular species, and that species which you term to be whales in this physical dimension. I have expressed that creatures within this dimension do not hold essence, but are created by you, which IS essence, although they are consciousness. But I have also expressed previously that these two particular species of creature within this dimension have moved into an area of assuming essence.

                Now; at the time framework that I was discussing this physically with individuals previously, this action had not yet occurred, but was very close, as I was expressing. Within this present now, this is accomplished, that these particular creatures are also an expression of essence, and choosing to be manifest within this dimension NOT in the physical form of your species.

                Now; as to the addressment of these particular creatures in this area of South America and your myths surrounding these creatures, these are not myths, they are not stories, and they are not what you term to be imagination.

                In the experimentation of manipulating consciousness to be creating of essence, these particular creatures engage the action altering form, allowing the connection of the physical manifestation of essence within this dimension to be holding an accurate understanding and empathic sense of your species and to be creating of a connection physically, a knowing, but also recognizing that the choice is not to be manifest as essence in the form of your species, but to be manifest in this other species.

                Now; within this present now, all of the species of this particular creature — dolphins, and also your whales — are manifestations of essence, unlike all of your other creations of creatures within this dimension.

                This opens the window for much misunderstanding. Therefore, I shall clarify, for this is not to say that your creatures are lesser than you. They are different, for they are a creation of you. They are not essence. They are your creations, but they also are, in a manner of speaking, a part of you, just as your finger is not your entire body, but it is an element of you. Your dogs or your elephants are an extension of you. They are a creation of yours. Your dolphins and your whales are not. They are their own expression. They are their own essences.

                RICHARD: And now, they’re creating their own realities.

                ELIAS: Correct.

                RICHARD: So then that has come about recently and will be a notable, dramatic change.

                ELIAS: Correct.

                In this, you have allowed yourself a similar experience in allowing yourself to empathically experience these other manifestations of essence, allowing yourself the experience of the dolphin in like manner to those particular dolphins which have offered themselves the experience of your species.

                RICHARD: But when they did that, that experience, that was before they were essence. Wouldn’t that be a creation of our consciousness at that time, that caused them to take on a human form?

                ELIAS: No! This has been their choice as consciousness, moving in the direction of creating essence for themselves within consciousness.

                In that, they have created their experimentation with form within this dimension. This was an element of their choice, to experiment in their exploration of whether they shall participate within this dimension in similar form to you, or continue to manifest within the form they have chosen but incorporating essence. Therefore, there has been a time framework of experimentation of shifting shape.

                Now; within this present now, this continues, but not for the same reason. This continues occasionally as a playful act, for they hold the knowing — unlike yourselves — objectively that they hold the ability to shift shape.

                You also hold the ability to be creating this, but you do not offer yourselves the objective knowing of this. Therefore, you do not manifest this.

                RICHARD: How? How do we do it?

                ELIAS: Ha ha! (Grinning, and laughter)

                #3209
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Sadie had been giving Linda Paul’s strange suggestion some thought. Was Linda Paul drinking again? she wondered. She had heard the rumours at the Happiness Academy about how he used to frequent the bars, tittering to himself, and apparently trying to telepathically freak out other bar patrons.

                  #3206

                  How many ways to stab a pea with a syringe? Jonbert woke up from his nap with the most peculiar question on his mind.
                  At 153, he’d started to get those annoying narcoleptic fits. He would go down in a blink of an eye into a deep dreamless sleep, and wake up to the most embarrassing of situations.
                  He felt like kicking someone, and mumbled under his breath “Just bloody once, before it gets puréed”.

                  He could have sworn he heard one of the butler robots titter silly. Those darn robots were getting smarter every day, he would have to get them a good canning.
                  But more pressing matter were on his mind, and he blisslessly ignored the wondrous display of flying manta rays around the eight-flippered submarine.

                  Time-landing around Big Island was always tricky, he was glad the darned bots got this one right, tittering notwithstanding.
                  Why so tricky, he could hear minds wonder. Why can’t those minds just read the bloody Time Traveling Manual! he exploded. The Island is expanding, creating new land every day. One miscalculation, and your expensive submarine would be enclosed in molten lava! How many times he had to repeat it.
                  True enough, his temper had not improved with age, but that kept him alive well, thank you very much.

                  That’s were they were supposed to collect the travelers, to entertain and train them a bit before leading them to the whale’s hotspot.
                  He would have to remain discreet for now on, and the prospect of having to refrain swearing loudly at ghosts seen by anyone but himself got him nervous all of a sudden.

                  :fleuron:

                  They’d felt the Time Sewer get cleaned up, although it took a time to reach them. The frogs were paddling like crazy, and then the bubble reached them, propelling the jelly-bean shaped carriage like a rocket to their destination.

                  “Brace yourseeeeeeelves!” Sanso sung in the key of F, ending the frogs’ symphony with a perfect 5th.

                  “The mind has a tendency to forget unpleasant things…” Sadie was saying to the queens in a way to soothe their increasingly worried faces “It will be over in a minute”.
                  The last part didn’t get them any less worried.

                  #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.

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