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  • Head Parcel, the postie, met What, What Ever said, “Head, I’m What.” “You’re What?” said Head. “That’s right!” What said, “I’m What Ever, Head Parcel, or What.” :penthingy: ... · ID #922 (continued)
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  • #3326

    “Mind joining me on an adventure?” Sanso said while continuing to walk at a rapid pace on the trail in the middle of running people carrying buckets of water, as though he knew exactly were he was going. “Of course not” he took no time to wait for an answer, as clearly the young lady was way over her head in her first attempt to teleport.

    “I should be called the Sanso Bernar of Teleporting Mishaps, you know, it’s like I have this seventh sense to precisely arrive where stranded teleporters need me… that and lost socks, but that’s an entire different story, although I could recall quite many times where both had me landing on dirty launderettes…”

    He paused to look at the panting Fanella. “But you don’t get a word of what I’m saying do you?”
    She shrugged timidly, batting her doe eyes in a seductive manner, as she had learnt to do at the Versailles Palace when caught her hand in the honeypot, so to speak.

    “Oh, never mind.” He went on. “Well,… ugh, burp, excuse me, this sea cucumber isn’t sitting well me…”
    Fanella signaled she needed a moment to catch her breath too, and sat on a flat rock, covering her legs with her arms, suddenly self-conscious of her modesty.
    “What was i saying already? Oh, yes, I have to deliver a message to a sea cucumber, sorry, I mean a lady cucumber, who may be in grave danger of death… possi—blurp— by sea cucumber indigestion.”

    He looked at her from head to toes: “Well, you look reasonably pliable… That trick should work. I suppose you don’t have any wax, clay, salt dough or… well never mind, I have… just what I need here…”

    All the while babbling on, he started to unfold a large piece of patchwork, which was somehow folded in his satchel.

    “The map dancer, you see… well, he’s a bit of a pain in the butt to find. But here, hold that for a moment. With that bit of,… there, put your finger there, no, not here, yes, riiight there… with a bit of patience, and… tada!”

    Fanella looked puzzled at the cloth now wrapped around them, snug and tight.

    “Oh well, I know, the resemblance is passable, but that will do. Believe it or not, I have done a lot of sewing in the past, patchwork quilts, miniature needlepoint rugs for doll houses, curtains, upholstery… Oh sweet times. It’s been a while I’ve had to travel via rag doll. A bit rough, but leaves little trace to follow.”

    Fanella broke her silence “are you making it along as you go, or you really have a plan to get us out of this awful middle age place?”

    Sanso tittered softly, apparently pleased with himself.

    “Now, you may want to relax, the trick is in letting go and drifting through Time’s flow.”

    #3319

    The Chinese secretary who had Sanso interrogated didn’t show any emotion at the news of his escape. Showing emotion was a weakness, and at all layers of the organisation, the lower rank was kept in the dark and given information only when necessary.
    The higher the rank, the better they were at compartimentalising, and at shunning emotion altogether. Some even murmured that the topmost executives were robots posing as humans. Notwithstanding, they would have made great poker player, but the Corporations’ goals were much more important than a simple gamble.

    Despite showing any sign of it, Cheung Lok was pleased to see that Sanso had taken their bait. With a bit of luck, he would drive them straight to Irina, the socialite thief who had mysteriously disappeared with the aid of the mysterious organisation they only knew as “The Management”. The Management had accomplished the exceptional feat of eluding any of their attempts at gaining intelligence and leverage on them, and to this date, their motives were completely opaque and seemingly random to them.
    However, they always seemed to know beforehand what was to happen, so playing against them was particularly tricky.

    Cheung Lok, internally smiled to himself. The chopsticks were his idea, and purposefully planted as an aid for his escape. Rightly used, they allowed to create a temporary shield from the antiportation device. That was a loophole they’d hoped Sanso would know about, and indeed he didn’t disappoint. Or maybe he did all by luck, given the personage, that bit was expected, but all the same, the goal was accomplished.

    A robot carried a briefcase to his desk, and left the room silently.
    Cheung Lok opened the case, and on the screen, the figures and points on the worlds times maps started to flicker erratically.

    #3314

    Fanella gazed into the dying flames of the campfire, while her toasted cheese cooled. “2121, here I come!” she said in a confident sounding voice, but she shivered in apprehension. 2121, 2121, she repeated, watching the flames, 21 21 12, 21 12 12 1212….21 12…1212…. her eyes were getting heavy and she started to drift off. Is that a tractor coming up the beach? she wondered, Or a motorbike? The very ground was starting to rumble and vibrate.
    Suddenly she was wide awake, and the the flames were towering over her head. The heat was blistering and her head was filled with roaring sounds, and hissing snapping cracks. As she was standing there trying to make sense of her surroundings, someone slammed into her from behind, making her legs buckle ~ there were people running in all directions, carrying babies or buckets of water, portraits or small wooden chests or squalking chickens. It was mayhem in the narrow alleys between the burning houses, showers of sparks and choking blasts, ear splitting shrieks and blood curdling howls assaulted all her senses, as she spun around looking for a way out of this appalling scene.
    “Surely this isn’t the island in 2121!” she exclaimed in anguish. “But if it isn’t then where am I? And when?”
    “This is Southwark, wench, and I can’t believe we’re having another Great Fire already” replied a man in an arousing blue codpeice who was running along beside her. “If you want to get out of here alive, follow me!”
    Fanella was not in the habit of running after strange men, but she couldn’t take her eyes off that gorgeous blue codpiece.

    #3307

    Sanso was tied securely on a Louis XVI chair, inside an ornate room kept mostly in the dark by heavy embroidered curtains that smelt of celery.
    He was craving for a tomato juice to go with the smell, and could hardly focus on an empty stomach.

    He could have easily escaped from his predicament, but he was curious about his captors, and the reason why they had him abducted after he went back to his little love nest in the R&R B&B where he’d hoped to meet again the mysterious Lady Cucumber. That was his name for her.
    He was hopeless with names, and although he was sure he had heard hers before, he preferred to remember people by associations. With Irina, that was Cucumbers. There! he thought, another proof of the brilliance of this method, as I remembered her name… Iris? Eyrin?, well, Lady Cucumber.
    He’d made love to many a lady in his life, a lady in Salmon, even a Lady Mermaid, a Lady Gingerale, a Lady Panty, a ladyboy even. He could go on for hours thinking about them, but the lady Cucumber had spun a spell around his head it seemed.

    After his last mission on a rescue with Miss Bob and her Sponges Squarepanties team, he’d run back for the 2222 B&B.
    No sooner had he arrived that heaven and hell broke loose and things went to rules and “do that or else”‘s, all things he abhorred with a passion. The links, and keys for his chains, that he could suffer, so he focused on it for awhile.

    He was woken up by a splash of ice cold water on his pants and a raucous voice in his face. Better that than the reverse, he chuckled to himself.

    “Something funny now? Tell us, where did she go?”

    He knew better than to feign ignorance, so he preferred to feign knowledge, which he’d found usually worked miracles.

    “Of course. She stole something from you…”
    “Damn right, she steal it, and we want back it.”

    The accent was difficult to place, he’d known so many inter-dimensional dialects that sometimes it was hard for him to remember.
    He would have said some northern Chinese dialect accent, with a bit of kiwi.

    He needed to know a bit more before disappearing. His curiosity was aroused by the implication that what she stole was certainly valuable. What could it be, a revolutionary hairsplitter, a butt-fluffer, a fringe freckler, ah! his head was teaming with great possibilities it was making him dizzy.

    “Don’t be silly Mister Sanso, she steal it robot very precious and advance technology.”
    and before he could reply:
    “Yes we read your mind, I confirm… You have silly thinks Mr Sanso.”

    He was starting to think now was a good time to get lost, and started to confuse their mindreader with energy patterns otherwise called gibberish thoughts.

    The chains and ropes gave way easily.
    His next move was to phase out of the room, but instead he managed to fall on his butt, in the middle of mocking looking Chinese in tuxedos and purple bow ties.

    “Ah, I see, you have some antiportation technology…” Sanso was a fair player. The temptation was big to run for another exit, if only for the exhilaration of a chase in the corridors of that strange place, but his stomach was thinking otherwise.

    “I see you are vely fond of kewcomber, we are no animawls, we will give you delishius kewcomber.”

    Minutes after, he was thrown with a certain form of Chinese ceremony in a small cubic windowless room. On a table next to the door, was his meal apparently.

    He recoiled in horror when he opened the lid covering his plate. The strong odour of garlic pricked his nose.
    “No way! Fucking jokers!”
    That was even worse than to eat boiled cucumber chunks in spicy sauce.
    Swimming in soy sauce were slices of chewy sea cucumbers that looked more like fat juicy leeches from a filthy bog.

    He ate reluctantly, arguing with his stomach about the benefits of the collagen in said sea cucumbers, and at the same time realized the Chinese mobsters were probably from the Chinese Robot Incorporated Mission Eternal, a renowned corporation that had managed to free countless people from menial jobs thanks to prodigious advances in robotics.
    The Lady Cucumber was suddenly more than a mysterious beauty, she was also a mysterious wanted beauty, and he couldn’t wait to… But he had to guard his thoughts for now.

    He looked at the bamboo chopsticks with a sly smile. He had not said his last word, and the person who could boast of having Sanso detained was not born yet.

    #3306

    Irina started to smell foul play when she arrived at the coordinates indicated in the last of the laconic messages sent to her by the Management.

    “Are you sure you got the coordinates right Mr R?”
    “Very much so Madam, but if you will allow me, I will double check to alleviate the hint of doubt I perceive in your most suave voice.”
    “Yes, do that please.”

    When becoming anxious, Irina tended to get prone to bossiness, and didn’t like what she heard in her voice.

    “I adore this door.”
    Yes, that was much better with suave undertones, with a hint of foreign raspy accent to spice it up.

    In truth, the door was plain, wooden, with a number painted on it, half erased, and a series of symbols which, although she could not place them, raised a distant alarm in her mind.
    “Rainbow magic?…” That was how they renamed the lore of black magic when it was privatized and re-marketed to the masses. She had not seen rainbow magic in ages, and there was no way that door would lead to an actual island without moving her out of this time and space.

    “Bloody buggers. Should have read those cryptic fine prints more carefully.”

    She realized there was a good chance her promised island was in a godforsaken place lost in time. She could count herself lucky if the deserted island was not in the palaeolithic and raided by dangerous dinosaurs…

    There was little choice. Either boldly embrace the great unknown behind the door, and trust her luck, or stay behind, short of the island of her dreams and probably condemned to run from the Management’s evil plans anyway.
    At least, with option one, the lottery could be favourable.
    That was what you got for dabbling in sketchy and questionable shots.

    “Mr R, are you ready?”
    “Always, Madam.”

    She felt lucky and pressed the door.

    #3302

    She started to carefully hollow a golden-ratio sized box out of a big enough chunk of pink granite rock.
    She couldn’t wait to test it, it was recommended to enhance her capacity for astralling and some said, teleportation.

    #3301

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

    #3293

    The whales’ dance on the dark bluish background lit by the tiniest reflection on floating seahorses and other sea creatures, made the scenery look like an eerie night skyline, full of moving stars.
    The added feeling of weightlessness was empowering, and soon, the three queens passed side glances, barely interested by the words of wisdom of the hologram, and catching each other’s mind, almost asked their question at the same time.

    Terry was the quickest this time, “Please, please, can you do a rendition of the Name Game with your disco ball lights, we’re all dying to do a dance! Please?”

    Interestingly, the Hologram didn’t show any hesitation as it started to sing, and the three queens were all glowing as they adjusted their wigs, fins and other appendages.

    The Name Game
    Terry!
    Terry, Terry bo Berry Bonana fanna fo Ferry
    Fee fy mo Merry, Terry!
    Sadie! Sadie, Sadie bo Badie Bonana fanna fo Fadie
    Fee fy mo Madie, Sadie!
    Come on everybody!
    I say now let’s play a game
    I betcha I can make a rhyme
    Out of anybody’s name …

    The lights were on, and the dresses glittered, Terry in the spur of the moment added kelp extensions to her wig to match the sardine tones of her suit, while Sadie’s only concession to fashion was a little glowing golden jellyfish that seemed to match her bob cut, and made for a funny pulsating hat.

    Adamus was on, and unstoppable

    The first letter of the name,
    I treat it like it wasn’t there
    But a B or an F, or an M will appear
    And then I say Bo add a B
    Then I say the name and Bonana fanna and a fo
    And then I say the name again
    With an F very plain and a fee fy and a mo
    And then I say the name again
    With an M this time
    And there isn’t any name that I can’t rhyme.

    A chorus of dolphins tried to join, having Consuela burst hysterically into peals of unstoppable laughter.

    Consuela!
    Consuela, Consuela bo Bonsuela Bonana fanna fo Fonsuela
    Fee fy mo Monsuela, Consuela!
    But if the first two letters are ever the same,
    I drop them both and say the name
    Like Bob, Bob drop the Bs Bo ob
    For Fred, Fred drop the Fs Fo red
    For Mary, Mary drop the Ms Mo ary
    That’s the only rule that is contrary.

    Maurana was shaking her head in seducing moves, pretending not to die of envy of the others, and expecting her turn.
    And the music went on…

    Okay? Now say Bo: Bo
    Now Belen without a B: Elen
    Then Bonana fanna fo: bonana fanna fo
    Then you say the name again with an F very plain: Felen
    Then a fee fy and a mo: fee fy mo !
    Then you say the name again with an M this time: Melen
    And there isn’t any name that you can’t rhyme
    Maurana! Maurana, Maurana bo Baurana Bonana fanna fo Faurana
    Fee fy mo Aurana, Maurana!

    And they continued with all sorts of names for quite a while, even some of the whales’ and dolphins’ who were obviously enjoying the interlude.

    :fleuron:

    “Did you get all that on video?” Maurana asked Sadie.
    “Of course I did, the ezapper got it all. Linda Paul and the network won’t believe their eyes, it’s some heavy material! Even better than gold bars!” Sadie could barely believe what had just happened.

    The whales seemed to have been so thrilled that after a moment of silence, a smaller one broke off the cycle, went to the huge crystal and took a heart shaped shard of it to offer them.

    “I guess that’s their way of burning a DVD, what do you think?” Consuela was blissfully hopeless with technology, but could also have some moments of brilliance.

    “We should go now” Sadie said looking up from the ezapper “it looks like some unidentified giant blue crab is coming at us, and we better let the whales handle it.”

    “Are we going through that awful sewer again?” Maurana was starting to get green at the idea.

    “I don’t think so, I had Sanso pick us up at the underwater cave thanks to Consuela surprise reconnaissance mission. He just arrived and he just texted me his location. It’s not far from here. He seems to have managed to herd a few octopi to carry us across. Always surprisingly resourceful this one, I might start to like him…”
    Snapping from her emotions, she continued
    “Time to say your adieus to 2222 ladies. Tonight, everyone’s a winner. We’re going to be famous.”

    #3288

    “That’s amazing”
    “How wonderful!”
    “Wow, so great!” … For a moment, was all they could say, in varying lengths and tones of “ooo’s”.

    While they were looking at the show from a distance, Sadie realized they were not alone.

    “Madam, if I may disturb, it seems you have dropped your key”
    The robot which had suddenly appeared looked vaguely like the one which had dropped them underwater, except for the octopus costume. After all, all robots looked the same.
    Sadie took the key a bit suspiciously, and in the second she took to examine it and as she was about to reply it wasn’t hers, noticed the robot had already vanished.

    “How strange it looks just like the sister key to the one Maurana got in France, the key from the ferrets… Wonder never ceases…”

    “Honey, may I interrupt your voovvvs and borrow your key for a minute” she asked Maurana.

    The two keys seemed to match, and when pressed together, clicked and became one, without any visible seam.
    Without notice, it suddenly escaped Sadie’s grasp, and darted towards the crystal, as if activated by it.

    Sadie covered her ears, thinking it would shatter the crystal, but its vibration absorbed the key, and it started to glow more wildly.

    A voice started to echo deep under.

    “My name is Adamus St Germain, please ask your three questions.”

    #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.

    #3285

    Secretly, Sadie had a beautifully laid out plan in her head, like a vacation plan with stop-overs at luxury hotels, and activities to entertain the children.
    That made her slightly miffed about the succession of sidetrack adventures and the lack of focus of her protégés.

    The plan was simple enough, they had to take the magical crystal from under the whale’s noses, and get back to the closest Time sewer, where they could funnel up (her fancy verb for “complete”) the special reboot edition of the Time Draggler’s show.

    Surprisingly, Linda Paul’s interest and instructions seemed to have weakened and her usually generous and unwarranted input have been inordinately limited. Maybe the summer heat wave had mollified her, or her projects had shifted since the pilot of the Time Draggler’s show had failed to grab the network’s attention and fulfil its promises.
    She couldn’t say. But something in what the techromancer told her had stuck, and she couldn’t quite shake it out. “A train will come for you, and you will have to catch it, this Time is your train.”
    The hell if she knew what Time that was anyway.
    But one thing was sure, this one-time gig was growing on her, and she didn’t want to get back to dog food tasting. So one way or another, she’d have to make it work, and move the drag’s lazy butts to make a heck of an entertaining show.

    “Look! I vink vey’re over vere!” Maurana was getting the gist of the telepathic conversation.

    It was lucky the interior of the cave was lit, as outside the night had fallen like a cold black carpet on a pack of dust bunnies, dropping the water’s temperature. Luckily, the suits seemed to have their own warming as well as glowing mechanism.

    Terry was over Consuela, who seemed unconscious and in a REM sleep.
    “Hey! Consuela learnt your eye rolling technique!” Maurana gleefully tuned towards Sadie.
    “Don’t be silly, I think he’s in shock, pass me that electric eel, to wake that bitch up.” Terry was always for a bit of drama. It seemed to do the trick.

    “Woah, you can’t believe the stuff I’ve seen…” Consuela’s pupils were dilated so much it was hard to see the whites of her eyes.

    “Classic case of red algae intoxication, no need to consult the ezapper for that” Sadie said. “It is known that dolphins use it as a shamanic tool to astral. The concentration in these waters is surprinsingly high. Nothing than some fresh water can’t cure.” Too much time under water, she started to babble like a fish.

    The Time window wouldn’t stay indefinitely open. She needed to get them move, and take back her authority. With children like them, one thing that worked was to shake some shiny stuff in front of them and let them follow it.
    “Anyone interested in a Whale Queen’s Race?”

    #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.

    #3279
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Consuela’s eyes were as round and big as life savers as she tried to absorb everything she was seeing in the underwater cave. Every tile, every key, every shell contained layer upon layer of images and information like great piles of slippery transparent slides. Multiple luminous trails floated from each layered image, intertwining with other layers. Her three dimensional land vision struggled to hold on to something familiar, something to balance, and failed. Consuela lost all sense of direction and perspective in the cacophony of data, knew not which way was up, or down, or sideways or any of the other directions presenting themselves. She started to tumble and roll, gasping and flailing and snatching at the water but there was nothing to hold on to.

      #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?

        #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.

        #3260

        Mirabelle tapped Lisa’s arm. There was no response, and Lisa had been in a sort of trance for a full 22 minutes. “Lisa! Are we lost, or have you found some navigational information?”
        The interruption caused a bit of interference in Lisa’s remote viewing, crossing her channels somewhat. She started to speak:

        How do you calculate upon the unforeseen? It seems to be an art of recognizing the role of the unforeseen, of keeping your balance amid surprises, of collaborating with chance, of recognizing that there are some essential mysteries in the world and thereby a limit to calculation, to plan, to control.

        “That doesn’t sound all that helpful, frankly” replied Mirabelle.

        #3257

        “You look just like your father” was Lisa’s mother’s only remark when Lisa had thoughtfully sent her a couple of photos from Portugal. No compliment coming from her, thought Lisa, rolling her eyes. And it wasn’t even true ~ she looked nothing like her father, something else must have triggered her mothers comment, some other association.
        “Remember your new policy, dear, don’t take it personally” Mirabelle reminded her. “Just another cranky old crone stewing on an old trigger. Besides,” she added, “What about Frank and Molly? Can you get a more specific remote view? Stuck in a carob tree could be almost anywhere.”
        “You’re rather sweet for such a bossy tart” replied Lisa with a grateful smile. “Shush now then while I access their location.”
        Lisa closed her eyes and waited for the images to appear. There was an explosion of purple and a great deal of static before an image began to appear of carob pods on a car windscreen. As Lisa viewed the glass a strange thing began to happen and she started to focus on the reflections. There were dozens of people approaching, all wearing brilliant white robes trimmed with gold. The robes were short, and revealed a considerable amount of tanned muscled leg, and a murmur of appreciation escaped her lips. What handsome fellows, she thought, but there’s something odd about them. Either this is a fancy dress party on a dry dusty hill, or another time zone.

        #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.

          #3252

          It started raining lightly on the hut and the queens found themselves woken up from what had seemed a very long dream conversation.
          “What just happened? What did he tell you?” Consuela asked.
          “All in good time” Sadie answered still processing the information.
          “Let’s go back to the beach, we will be late for the wetsuits fitting.”

          The ezapper’s GPS started to send new instructions. “In 10 meters turn left…”
          Then it added ominously “… at your peril”.

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        • Head Parcel, the postie, met What, What Ever said, “Head, I’m What.” “You’re What?” said Head. “That’s right!” What said, “I’m What Ever, Head Parcel, or What.” :penthingy: ... · ID #922 (continued)
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