Daily Random Quote

  • Well, Illi thought, I could shelter under this heavy cape, but what would be the point of that? It’s smelly and dark under there, at least the rain is light and clean. What I need to find is a cave. I’ll create a cave to find! Wouldn’t be much fun to just create a cave, Illi reasoned, ... · ID #149 (continued)
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  • #3443

    “I found it!” shouted Pseu. “This is the tile I’ve been looking for! The Golden Portal Tile, what a miracle that this wasn’t destroyed!”
    “Well thank fuck for that” replied Lisa, wiping the sweat off her brow. “Can we go now? How far is it to the old temple and how are we going to get there?”
    Pseu clasped the tile to her chest. Beaming with pleasure, she ignored Lisa’s question.
    “If I might offer a suggestion,” said Lazuli Galore, “The overland route is a minefield of dangers, what with the current situation with the beanstalk and the bog. It would make more sense to head south immediately to the coast, and travel by sea into the heart of the Bay of Beliefs. Once we reach the extreme innermost coast of the Bay, it’s just a short journey to the Old Temple.”
    “Good idea!” said Sanso, affectionately slapping Lazuli on the ass.

    #3442

    The P’hope could be seen everywhere: leading the Builders to work double shifts to strengthen the collapsing structures of the flying City, exhorting the Magi to contain the failing beliefs of people back to virtuous resilience by ways of special masses held throughout Karmalott, and ensuring with the Sentries that all tremors of civil unrest was properly contained and the ring leaders properly admonished into good conduct.

    The situation at the secret political prison known as Gazalbion was alarming. With most of the dangerous interlopers free to roam Abalone, and no walls to contain new prisoners, it could take a while to rebuild its walls, and the P’hope didn’t have the luxury of time on his side. It meant that no civil and belief dissidents could be brought there at the moment, and any spark of disobedience could spread like wildfire.

    The P’hope dreaded what could happen if, despite all the efforts, the beanstalk was beyond repair. He knew his faltering belief in it could only hasten its fate, but even so, he wanted to be ready for the worst.
    Considering the limited amount of rescue storks which were available off the walls of the city, it was likely that the result would be of apocalyptic proportion. Nevertheless, he refused to consider evacuating for the moment, even knowing it would take days for those on foot to climb down the bean’s tendrils.
    Especially, as he was now in the perfect position to be the hero of the day.

    He had been robbed of his share of light many, many years ago.
    At the time, a young boy had arrived from the sea and from an outside world to Abalone. Jube, who was not yet the P’hope, was a striving leader of a group of survivors of the island. The bog’s dangerous and foggy emanations and its wild life were a threat of all instants, and he had soon realized there was strength in numbers. Many lost souls had gathered, but didn’t have the strength on their own to remain focused on a reality they wanted, a dream made reality.

    He, Jube the Brave, had such strength in himself. But even so, they were only less than a few dozens of men and women in the camp, and the reach of what they could create was only good enough to sustain them for short periods of time.

    But the boy named George had arrived from afar, and things had changed gradually. Jube had found out pretty quickly that the boy had the great potential to bring people together, and hold their beliefs like a mighty rope made of the thinnest of strands of hair. So he had offered to mentor him, while at the same time working his words into suggestions, and shaping the boy’s future to fit his own dreams.

    That’s how the beanstalk started. The first sprouts were so tiny and frail, but the more people came and believed in the leadership of the one who was to become their King, the more it grew, and lifted them above the clouds and the fog of their minds.
    Years had passed, Prince George became King Artie as another suggestion of the P’hope which had the side-effect to cloak Artie from his memories. The P’hope grew in power, always in the shadows however.

    For a while, people were happy. Truly happy. But progress was inevitable, consciousness had to move and grow, otherwise their dream of a City would have been another foggy and soul-numbing projection of their feeble minds.

    The first real threat happened when Abalone, in one of its inexplicable changes of time and space, drew to them a stranger. True to their principles, they had welcomed her, nursed her, and given her a place of choice in the Magi’s ranks despite her young age. But she could see clearly between the cracks and the varnish of order. Worse, she could see the P’hope’s intentions were not so pure.

    So it become soon apparent to Jube that the young Gwinie had to disappear, and her followers had to be contained. For the sake of the great Karmalott, and to shield everyone from the impending chaos, the same chaos they had came from victorious many years ago.

    He and his minions had struck in a very swift and coordinated movement. Gwinie was tragically lost in the bog during her rite of passage. A truce was arranged with her followers, and they were allowed a concession, with enough resources to survive. They ultimately built Gazalbion, which also became, in a mutual arrangement, a political prison for Karmalott, unknown to virtually everyone in the City. The Processor, one of Gwinie’s former followers, was glad to receive prisoners who would add to the strength and mass beliefs of his encampment. The P’hope in return, was glad to be rid of difficult problems.

    That was so long ago, but it rang like a warning from no further than yesterday.

    They had never found out what the old temple’s ruins were for, or by which civilization before them they were built. They were as old as the island itself, and seemed to be doomed, full of an ominous power he couldn’t and feared to harness. If anything else failed, he would go back there. Maybe that was his only solution.

    #3441

    Dark clouds had gathered in the sky, the temperature had dropped of several degrees, making the breeze feel colder. The group had been walking for hours in the bog toward the elusive temple. With the darkness of the clouds, its mirage had begun to fade away. Greenie had said they’d better stop when the image was gone because they could become lost.

    They had managed to make a wet campfire, and were trying to get warmth from the fleeting flames.
    “I had a strange dream last night”, said George to Arona who was sitting next to him.
    She smiled politely, not sure she wanted to hear about the winged man dreams. She considered standing up and being rude.
    “I was a teenager”, he continued, wrapping himself into his wings.
    Arona rolled her eyes inwardly, looking around for help. Mandrake was sleeping under her cape.
    “An island appeared one day on the coast, people thought it was an ancient magic island and feared to approach it. It was visible only for a couple of days. It was such a weird dream.”
    “Maybe you should write it down”, said Arona.
    “Oh! Probably not, if the P’hope gets hold of it, I have the feeling it’s not in my interest.” He grinned like a kid. “Anyway, I knew in the dream that the island was still there, it was still reachable. So one day I took my father’s boat. It was a small boat, not made to go too far from the coastline. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. I went into the mist, completely trusting I would find this island that everybody feared. It was rising tide, and I had to fight the current pushing me to the shore. I think it’s a dream who brought me there, a dream of a girl calling me in a garden. George
    “Is that all?” asked Arona after a moment of silence from George.
    “Yes, it’s most certainly a silly dream, I’ve lived in Karmalott my entire life.”
    “You’ll have to work on your dream telling, pal”, said Mandrake, “the punchline is missing.”

    Nobody noticed how the flames of the fire were dancing into the green girl’s eyes.

    #3438

    A man on a donkey making his way through the dust and rubble of the crumbling city elicited no attention, it was a common sight that attracted no attention. Sanso covered his hair and face with a blue shawl, more to keep the acrid cement dust out of his eyes that for purposes of concealment.
    The destruction was appalling, but wonderfully symbolic ~ there were buildings still standing like lone sentinels amid the piles of smashed grey blocks and mangled steel girders, but the huge gaps where the great wall had been allowed a view of the rolling plain beyond. The heat shimmered across the golden dry vegetation, silver grey olive trees gnarled haphazardly on the gentle slopes, and far off a milky haze rose above the distant sea.
    The donkey picked his way nimbly though the wreckage, scurrying figures clutching babies and assorted items rushed towards the holes in the perimeter wall, where the ragtaggle crowds fanned out as they ran through to the other side, as wild shouts of jubilation ~ as well as plaintive cries for loved ones lost in the chaos ~ ricocheted through the gutted buildings.
    The donkey stopped at a site of devastation indistinguishable from all the others, and indicated to Sanso by bucking him off his back that this was the ruined tile factory, and then Lazuli shapeshifted back into his usual human form ~ short but stocky, black haired and brown eyed, with eyebrows that met in the middle ~ for ease of communication.
    “Over there, look!” Lazuli pointed to wisps of dust rising from a depression in the rubble.
    Shading his eyes from the glare of the sun, Sanso could make out four bent figures searching the debris, pulling out stones and tossing them aside, evidently searching for something.
    “Fanella! I have come back for you!” Sanso cried, stumbling and banging his shins as he rushed over to her.
    “And I have come for you too!” added Lazuli, following Sanso, and hoping to make a favourable impression on the girl, smitten with her long golden hair, elfin features and slender body.
    “About bloody time, Sanso” said Lisa tartly, easing her aching back into an upright position. “You may as make yourself useful, and help Pseu find the tile she’s looking for and then we can get out of this godforsaken hellhole. Jack will be wondering where we are.”

    #3435

    “You know, you look like a nice guy”, said Lazuli Galore, “Not that I’m of that sort, you know what I mean, I’m not into men and anything.”
    “Of course”, said Sanso taking another sip of his beer. He wasn’t sure about what the man was referring to, it didn’t really matter. He had had at least seven beers and the world around him just began to take that characteristic blur, which was kind of nice. The words of the man were like colorful flies buzzing around in an bubbly way.
    “You know”, continued his new friend, “they have rooms upstairs, maybe we can visit them. I’ve heard each room were decorated according to different love songs… not that I’m a sissy or anything of the sort, of course.”
    “Of course”, said Sanso automatically. “Are we shagging now or when you are finished to talk ?”
    Lazuli gaped and stood up. They went upstairs and from the courtyard one could hear “Don’t look me in the eyes” or “I’m not a sissy!” “No you’re not, little slut”.

    #3434

    Sadie soothed herself. It has only been 2 days. Get a grip. Your hair won’t smell yet.

    She wondered whether to speak—the longing to confide in someone was almost overwhelming— and she followed Finnley, trying to pluck up courage. Not only would it be breaking protocol to give away any details of her recent mission, more importantly, she did not want to frighten the elderly woman. Instinctively Sadie knew that if there was anyone she could trust it would be Finnley, who had been through so much in her own life and surely, innately perhaps, understood and accepted those things outside the established norm.

    “Finnley.” she spoke softly. “It is me, Sadie. I am not sure how to … I am here, but you can’t see me. Please don’t be frightened. Let me explain. It will make sense …. well sort of.”

    it will make sense?

    “Sadie? Where are you? What’s going on?” Finnley’s frail voice faltered and Sadie wished she could reach out and reassure her.

    “Maybe you should sit down.”

    #3432

    Laughter bubbled forth despite the mayhem. Sanso found the sight of the slug wrapped around the hook legged ones face outrageously funny; as he paused to gasp for air in between guffaws, he realized he wasn’t the only one laughing. Wiping the tears from his eyes while trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing and focus on the situation, a fellow next to him slapped him on the back, saying “Oh my, that was funny. And richly deserved too, I never liked him. I could tell you a tale or two about him! Lazuli Galore” he said, introducing himself and shaking Sanso’s hand. “Delighted to meet you. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but things have changed, and how rapidly! I had no idea my wishes would be granted so soon. Come on, let’s go get a beer and I’ll explain.”
    Lazuli Galore continued his explanations a few minutes later, in the deserted courtyard of a small shabby bar.
    “I’ve been fed up with my job for months,” he said, “It was fun at first, and don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the excitement ~ shapeshifting, hunting down the settlers and rounding them up, all good stuff and a heap of fun. A lot more fun than working in the processing department, that’s for sure!”
    Sanso murmured something vague by way of encouragement, and ordered another beer.
    Lazuli continued, “But then I started noticing something. Most of the settlers seemed like nice people, unlike the management of this place ~ that’s management with a small m, by the way ~ take the last batch for example ~ that girl was the bees knees, cor! she was lovely. I don’t mean the old trout with her, the young one I mean. Felt real sorry to round her up, I did. But what could I do? If I hadn’t rounded them up, one of my colleagues would have done. But now, with the walls collapsing, I’d be out of a job anyway soon, so why not seize the day!”
    “Hear! Hear!” replied Sanso, clinking his beer glass with Lazuli’s. “We need to talk.”

    #3428
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      “But Mother, she is vile and hateful, you wouldn’t believe the things she makes us do, it’s not fun anymore!”
      “Well you know what they say, Cedric, if it’s not fun don’t do it. Although,” his mother added, “You are a bit lacking in discipline.”
      “That’s like a contradiction in terms! It doesn’t make any sense!”
      “Life’s like that” was the rather pointless reply. “When are you coming to visit me?” she started the usual whining. “All your life I’ve been crossing the oceans to come and see you, but you wouldn’t cross a puddle for me, your poor old mum.”
      Cedric could feel his stomach knotting.
      “But Mum, I can’t leave now, I’d be letting the others down, I can’t leave them here on their own with that prune faced troll.”
      “I see,” replied his mother, sniffing pathetically, “I know where I stand. Don’t you bother about your poor old mum, you have fun and don’t worry about me, I’ll manage somehow.”
      “I just told you I wasn’t having fun, you…you….” but Cedric couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not to his mother. But he thought it, and his stomach twisted painfully.
      Cedric spent the rest of the day trapped in the mental justifying conversation he was having in his head; the energy he was beaming out unwittingly encouraged the dwarf to single him out, adding to his misery.
      Cedric was trapped between the rock of his responsibility to his mother, and the hard place of Anna Purrna’s cane.

      #3427
      Jib
      Participant

        After the push-ups, Anna Purrna returned to her office, letting the Queens panting and sweating, certainly wondering how long it would last.

        The dwarf had requisitioned the best room and decorated it with pink and blue kitten plates on the wall left of his desk. The desk was positioned so that he would see anyone entering the room. It was something he had learned from Feng Shui, the position of power was when you faced the door and had no window behind. It was important no one could sneak up on you.

        Anna Purrna loved pink and blue, and she loved kittens. They were loving you unconditionally and were not as dependent upon you as dogs. And they pooped in their own personal toilets. She put her cane near a decorated hammer and sat at her desk. She sighed.

        Dependence was exhausting. She had fought all her life not to be dependent, especially when she realized that, contrary to the other kids, she couldn’t say when I grow up. She would never grow up, and those arrogant kids in the playground would make sure she knew it morally and physically. She wasn’t all that crooked before.
        Now, she was driving a Harley.

        She took her e-zapper and wrote : “ZR nut reddy 2 face O’Thor ET yeast”.

        Writing in code was a habit she had taken when participating in RPGs. She knew it was an attempt to conceal her own expression. But it felt soothing at the time. It also helped her get better characters than dwarves and goblins. They wouldn’t even let her have an orc, saying she was too small for that. With time and perseverance she became an Adept with great powers and cunning intelligence. She was respected and feared. Which led her to work for the Management.

        Her instructions were clear. Make them stand for themselves. At least that’s how she interpreted it. She had carte blanche for the means.

        From what she had seen until now, Terry was the most promising of the three, but he was still following his mates. Maurana was too attached to the rules and seemliness, and Consuela was far too dependent on her mother. Anna could just provide the environment, they had to find their inner strength on their own and not forget the group.

        The e-zapper purred, she had reconfigured it so that it would have a cat personality. It reminded her of her Riga, her previous ginger cat. She died a few years ago and Anna couldn’t resolve herself to get another one. She couldn’t replace her Riga in her heart.

        The message read : “Begin phase two ASAP. Meow”.

        #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.

          #3418

          “What a…” King Artie almost lost his smile after being dumped by Arona on the edge of the cliff.
          Fear not, little chipmunk, I will have you soon wrapped around my finger…

          He looked inside his bag for the precious bottled elixir. He’d managed to steal it from the P’hope’s apothescary. Among a bizarre collection of dried insects, the P’hope had some vials of pure waterbee’s royal jelly mixed with p’hopolis.
          Collecting the essence of flowers from all over the kingdom and distilling the mass beliefs into this life-sustaining elixir, the waterbees royal jelly and p’hopolis had many properties, a bit like a wish-fulfilling gem in liquid form.
          He knew using it would probably trigger some false notes in the mass belief organ of the P’hope, risking alerting him, but he had no choice, the damsel was already getting out of view, and he couldn’t spend days crawling down the shaky beanstalk.

          “Who said we couldn’t grow wings” he said after a gulp of the precious potion. That was the magic formula he needed.

          The smile returned as wings started to sprout out of his back, and without a second’s hesitation, he followed the sexy flying squirrel in mouldy cloak-wings.

          #3416

          Noticing the distinctive odour of unwashed hair, Finnley looked around cautiously. Perhaps there was an intruder hiding somewhere. Of course, Finnley reasoned, it could be that Sadie had returned early, and had brought an unsavoury visitor with her who had left the lingering, but never the less pungent aroma. It surely couldn’t be Sadie, who was usually so scrupulously clean and sweet scented. Unless Sadie was poorly and had been too unwell to bathe.

          Her concern about Sadie over riding her fear of a possible intruder, Finnley checked the bedroom, calling out softly to Sadie, but there was no sign of her in there. Next she checked the bathroom, tapping gently on the closed door, and then cautiously pushing it open when she had no reply.

          Eventually, after checking everywhere and finding no sign of Sadie or any indication of an intruder, Finnley decided she was being over anxious ~ Sadie must have had a guest, and they had recently left the building together. She started to clean, methodically and efficiently. But her unease escalated as the more she cleaned, the stronger the smell of unwashed hair grew, and she was unable to pinpoint where the smell originated from ~ it seemed to be moving around, following her.

          #3403

          The sweltering hours of the afternoon limped along, and despite the lack of comfortable furniture in the Processing Department, Lisa and her two companions dozed off. Lisa dreamed of a folly in the City, and met a woman called Pseu who she was explaining her predicament to. When Lisa became lucid, she called Fanella and Ivan into the dream, while they discussed the situation.

          Pseu expressed a strong interest in meeting them inside the walled Gazalbion when they awoke. She had coveted some coordination point tiles from the ruins of an old temple long buried, and then rediscovered, in one of the tunnels.

          Visibly relieved, Ivan remarked “If you know where the tunnels are, then we can escape!”

          “Oh, we won’t escape through that tunnel, that tunnel leads down into the cities below. I have a better idea, leave that to me. I’m thinking of parachuting elephants landing on the wall itself, that was rather clever of old Lazuli Galore. Very creative, we’ll explore that idea further when the time comes.
          But first we must find the tunnel and the tiles. When you awaken in the Processing Department, look out for me, I will be shapeshifting according to the circumstances. Only you will notice me, but do pay close attention to the messages I am conveying, and follow me to the tunnel.”

          #3401

          The tunnel went on forever, forcing them to duck frequently and wriggle around in exiguous places. To make it worse, it wasn’t even fresh under, and the heat carried on as they went further inside. At times, Arona started to have anxiety flashes, as she was reminded of the labyrinthine tunnels of the dragons of old.

          To give herself more heart, she put her efforts in continuing exchanging niceties and other manners of rude elaborate insults with the stranger, who surprisingly was a match to boot.

          “Stop glumping, we’re almost there” he said to her, showing a final passage on a narrow ledge above crystal clear waters.

          She was too exhausted to retort something witty, but took a mental note that he deserved one more of what she had.

          When they emerged, the sun was almost set. The tunnel came out right at the rim of the floating land, and a tight network of ropeways were stretched under the tangled tentacles of the giant beanstalk, which kept the whole city and its neighbourhood afloat. More gymnastics in perspective she thought, but she was prepared for that.

          “Don’t go too close, you’ll fall to your doom…” It was the first time the stranger’s voice hinted at some fear.

          Arona smiled as elegantly as she could, despite being out of breath and red as a purpato. Lifting a limp Mandrake from the ground, she suddenly unwrapped her heavy cloak and lunged into the void below, the wind blowing in her strange mouldy wings.

          “Follow me if you dare!” she shouted to the stranger, while struggling to navigate the downward spiral like an oversized flying squirrel.

          #3399

          About a week ago, in the reserved section of the Storehouse of Exoteric Artefacts of Karmalott, Obax Winken was pondering in silence for the last hours over the nature of one of them.

          Any artefacts found down there, in the Fog Abyss, was tightly controlled by the P’hope. Nobody wanted an alien object to unbalance the delicate structure of mass beliefs by prematurely introducing abrupt changes coming from visitors, stranded travellers of other times and realities.
          Obax, as an erudite versed in interpreting the meaning of these objects, was entrusted with the classification and gauging of the danger that those objects could cause to the belief construct.
          If an object was deemed troublesome, it would be tentatively destroyed, or if that failed, stored in the forbidden section. But in most cases, objects left by travellers would disintegrate if just a thought projection, and those objects that came with them usually didn’t pose much threat.

          The one he was looking at looked like a strange mask, designed to be blown. He believed it was a cursed horn and couldn’t decide if it was in the interest of science to shelf it with its cursed energy, or remove the curse and release it to the masses for them to enjoy a swimming revolution…

          “Lucius!” he called to his assistant. He was a bit deaf in one ear. LOGSBOTTOM! he called again.
          “How would you call that strange trunk-like apparatus?”

          #3395

          A series of powerful meditation sessions with Greenie (Gwinie had told Irina she didn’t mind the moniker) had Irina more and more sure-footed in the strange reality of the island.

          There was always confusion when she tried to change her surrounding too forcefully. All the transitions seemed like traps to dull her senses back into old familiar patterns, such as securing the perimeter, and idle talks with Mr R. Simple things like changing her focus from one object to another was proving challenging, and she had to keep herself awake grounded in shifting sands, staying clear from the comfortable dreams.

          Thoughts of the light city in the clouds carried her, and she’d programmed Mr R to help her with reality checks. Mr R, unlike what she’d thought initially, was not completely immune to the effects of the changes of reality. She surmised it was because it was an evolved AI, and he probably incorporated evolved perception constructs into his programming. In a sense, he was programmed to chose between alternate realities to fulfil the expectations of those in his care. Without this choosing program at his core, or whatever speck of consciousness it was, he probably would have been immune as any piece of inanimate matter —but also probably less useful, as her reality would have been irrelevant to him.

          Irina had found out that she was actually lucky to have found Greenie, since during her long sleep, she had maintained a sort of ground reality based on the blueprints she was familiar with, which seemed quite close to what the City called “reality”.
          Meditations had revealed, by parts that Irina had interpolated, that Greenie was trained to be part of an order of people, who betrayed her and left her for dead. Her training had helped her survive, and even in Greenie’s quasi-autistic state, had helped Irina too.

          Irina decided (and hoped it was the first time she had) to go to the cloud city, and help Greenie return to her rightful place.
          It did cross her mind that it was maybe what Management had wanted her to do all along, and that her island could only be her gift if she claimed it.
          Feeling the thought leading her towards unwanted manifestations and slumber, she snapped out of it.

          “Mr R, prepare everything, we are leaving at dawn. To the beanstalk.”
          “Madam, everything is already prepared, as you asked hours ago.”
          “Very well Mr R. Then let’s make dawn happen and let’s paddle.”

          #3392

          The Chamberlain was in panic.
          The King have disappeared, what shall we do, what shall we do…

          He had scoured the many places of leisure and rest he used to visit, the baths, the game rooms full of _bises_-slut machines, the taverns, the knights’ training grounds, the wish-fulfilling room, even the folly at the top of the castle…

          Worse, there were signs that he had gone somewhere, on his own. He hoped it was not that beanstalk idea again… If the King went down the beanstalk unescorted, it could mean a lot of trouble.

          Until he was found, the P’hope couldn’t know about it.

          #3389
          Jib
          Participant

            Vertice Rottring was a trained observer for the Remote Vision Network of Karmalott, RVNoK for short. She had been sent along with the team of magi to bear witness of the meteor shower.

            A joker had carefully placed a note with confusing impressions about an imminent rain, hoping that the magi would undress and actually take a shower, falling pray to the disruption of the mass belief cloud protecting them from the transitional power of the bog.

            #3383

            Lisa was lost in thought during the hours that they spent in the waiting room of the Processing Department. Among the many things she pondered was the nature of their beliefs that had landed them in this situation, the energy they were projecting, and the ramifications of the reflection. She was intrigued with the letter that Sanso had read out to them upon their arrival ~ underground cities had long been a particular fascination. What had been the circumstances leading to so many ancient underground cities being constructed? Nobody knew for sure, but it seemed to Lisa that they had been a means of escaping the surface. But why? Was it because of climate catastrophe, or some other disaster rendering the surface dangerous or inhospitable? Or had it been situations of siege, or hostile populations on the surface? Or had it been merely a curiosity to explore living in a different environment? An idea suddenly occurred to Lisa that she had been judging life on the surface of the planet as the ideal right way to live, the most preferable option, and life below ground as a second rate choice for survival purposes, but perhaps there were unimagined benefits to living below the ground.

            Lisa’s meandering thoughts led her back to the summer of 2014, when the seige situation in Gaza had exploded as the population of the shifting world addressed restriction and shielding energy, creating an amplified imagery at one of the main coordination points. Interconnection was coming on strong, like never before, and individuals the world over, struggling with their own self imposed boundaries, sought for release en masse and joined together to support and encourage each other.

            It had been an exhilarating time, but also a frustrating one. Interpretations of the words and messages of perceived authorities became mass beliefs, and for a time the restrictions increased. Those adhering to traditional authorities repeated the party lines, and the so called “new agers”, rooting for change but at the same time terrified of it, and in no small measure, terrified of other people and different cultures, created new mass beliefs based on their old fears. The strongest new age belief was a translation of channeled advice, construed from the vague “focus on the positive” to mean “ignore anything you can’t bear to acknowledge”. Rather than accept differences, initially masses of well meaning individuals criticized anyone endeavouring to acknowledge and accept the global situation, and pushed their advice to ignore the horrors, for fear that they would unwillingly bring anything unpleasant to their own attention. It was ironic to Lisa that the ones advocating not to judge, were the ones that judged her the most for her actions, and the activists judged her far less, while not advocating less judgement at all.

            #3382

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

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

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

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          • Well, Illi thought, I could shelter under this heavy cape, but what would be the point of that? It’s smelly and dark under there, at least the rain is light and clean. What I need to find is a cave. I’ll create a cave to find! Wouldn’t be much fun to just create a cave, Illi reasoned, ... · ID #149 (continued)
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