Search Results for 'tail'

Forums Search Search Results for 'tail'

Viewing 20 results - 161 through 180 (of 291 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #3765

    In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

    ÉricÉric
    Keymaster

      After a night of restless sleep, Eb’s practical ideas for the plan B were not much.

      He’d weighted multiple options, even toyed with mad ones like playing a sort of second coming, 3 days of night and so… but none had yet the potential to elegantly solve the issue at hand. Not that it was a matter of being elegant, but Eb liked elegant and simple solutions.

      He flipped the calendar to today’s picture. Run away, and don’t look back it said. “Great… If only…” he started to mumbled to himself.

      He poured himself a drink, and dragged his feet towards the console, eyes still swollen by the lack of sleep. His brother, Jeb, would have told him to do some wegong energxices to keep the juices flowing, but hell, there wasn’t much room in his cubicle, and for better or worse, he preferred to stick to booze.

      He liked to observe his ant farm, there were so many quaint and endlessly fascinating people in there. He liked the girl with the piglet for instance. She was often opinionated and sometimes oddly quiet. He had bent the rules for her, and didn’t report the piggy she’d brought to Mars with her. What harm could it bring.
      Now she was talking to it. He waved at the console to zoom in and put the speakers on.

      Remember, those odd stories Mater used to tell us. The Peaslanders and the blubbits was one of her favourites, she would go on and on about it, and laugh at our faces when we didn’t understand where it was going…
      She was lost in thoughts for a moment.
      It started like this “There was trouble in New Peasland. A plague of hungry blubbits had wiped out the pea crops.” Mater used to say it was from an old book of tales, and that the author had surpassed herself. She chuckled I guess for a long time, she was the only one to believe that. Now look at us…”

      Eb cut the sound before the inevitable complain about missing Earth blahblah. But Peasland? That was new… He wasn’t one to dismiss an out-of-the-blue clue, and did a quick research on the network to learn more about the tale. It took a while for the Central Intelligence to run the search. It had to go deeper than usual.

      After half an hour of waiting, he’d almost run out of scotch. Thankfully, the CI had found it. Pressed by time, and impatient by nature, Eb asked the CI to do a quick summary of the plot.
      The central intelligence almost bugged at the request, and could only apologize for not being able to degibberize it.

      It took him a few hours to read the book on the holographic screen, and at the end, couldn’t say if it was just a waste of time. Preposterous story, with no head nor tail, literally… But then his genius elegant solution appeared as an evidence.

      He’d known people were more likely to comply and control if they are told a plausible lie, within the frame of their accepted reality. He just had to bridge the discontinuity of their reality, with the reality of everyone else on the planet. The tale had reminded him of this popular movie about blue aliens. Blueus ex machina, that was it!

      He spoke at the console “Record this and run simulation parameters:”

      The blue men are from another planet —or rather the Mars settlers are led to believe they are from another planet.
      They bundle them all into a fake spaceship
      and take them on a fake spaceship ride
      and deliver them back to Earth. where they have been all along of course
      da dah!

      The answer came back after another painful hour of scotch-less waiting.

      “Probability of success: 68%”
      Well, that was the best Eb had in days. He was about to go with it when the CI chimed in

      “We took the liberty of running a modified simulation based on your setting, which we believe can yield a ratio of 97% of success.”

      Eb was surprised at the initiative by the machine, and was curious to hear about it.

      “We adjusted two points:
      1. We can simulate some event on Mars like earthquakes to increase the likelihood of a willing departure from the planet.
      2. The blue aliens may be a future inconvenience if they are fake actors, when the Mars colony comes out of simulation and back to Earth. We would rather suggest using religious beliefs and invisible hand of God or non-corporal aliens.”

      Eb was annoyed by the machine’s dismissal of his blue aliens. Kill his darlings?

      “CI, any other suggestion for point 2?” he asked.

      “Indeed. We can create artificial intelligence blue bodies based on my algorithm, which would make convincing aliens that can later interact with your governments and continue the disinformation.”

      Eb was too drunk to realize he was about to make a devil’s pact when he agreed to launch the secret order for cybernetic blue bodies.

      #3668
      F LoveF Love
      Participant

        “Will someone get rid of that old woman with the horrible accent?” hissed Finnley, ungraciously.

        “What on earth for? She is doing a splendid job. I must say though, Finnley, just as a side note, it is good to hear you sounding more like your normal ungracious self.”

        “I found dust,” muttered Finnley, glaring accusingly at Haki.

        Elizabeth look unaccustomedly thoughtful. “Do you think you need a break, Finnley dearest? You really must be exhausted after all the splendid proof reading you have been doing for me this year. Why don’t you go home for a while, on full pay of course.”

        Finnley burst into tears. “Where is my home though?” she snuffled. ”I am not good with descriptive details. I just found myself in this stupid story doing your stupid cleaning. And now I have a Bulgarian sister, to boot. And,” she looked witheringly at Elizabeth, “ proofreading is one word”

        “Crikey, matey,” said Norbert patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “Christmas is a killer, in’t? Family coming out of the woodwork like blimmin worms. Keep ya chin up though, eh. Ya can’t be letting things get to ya like this. Ya wouldn’t be able to carry on like this if ya were in bloody China ya know. Like bloody robots they are there. I don’t think they know the meaning of the word feelings over there.” He shook his head in wonder at their philistinism.

        “And ya right about that one,” he added quietly, with a conspiratorial raised eyebrow and a slight nod of his head towards Haki.

        Elizabeth leapt up and rushed to the bookshelf. “I know what you need! some Lemon Juice! I will pick one at random; they are all absolutely superb.” She opened the very small book and closing her eyes stabbed the page dramatically with her finger.

        ”Let’s not be overachieving fucks.”

        “Wow,” she mouthed, awestruck. After taking a moment to recover herself, she looked sympathetically at Finnley.

        “The oracle has done it again. Do you hear that Finnley? You are an overachieving fuck.”

        Finnley rolled her eyes.

        #3537

        In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

        ÉricÉric
        Keymaster

          Under the cold starlight, John enjoyed to drive on the dunes, off the well-run tracks, glancing back from time to time to check on Yz. He had spent many years in his youth following his mother’s husbands, as they were assigned his guardianship in turns, and would take him around for their various outposts assignments.
          He’d learnt the topology of his land in much details, and had a few of his own favourite places. Without knowing, he’d name them like his ancestors would have of the unspoiled lands and mountains of ancient Earth. The Rabbit Head, the Meditating Monkey, the Buddha’s Butt… Of course, none of these names were official, but everyone would know exactly what place he was pointing at, even without knowing the geoquadrant designation.

          Tonight, for the magical display of lights, he needed a magical place, and he knew just where.

          There was a ring of old stones past the Buddha’s Butt. They were mostly hidden from sight, although the place was at a higher altitude and could be seen from afar. He’d discovered them by chance, two or three years ago. He didn’t come too often, as the access wasn’t easy.
          The stones were nested inside a plateau of collapsed land, like an old caldera. They were huge boulders of unequal sizes, forming a quasi-perfect circle, more than two hundred meters wide. It felt doubtful they’d been erected by men, but somehow the eerie place seemed possessed by some sort of vibrant intelligence.

          “I’m going to show you something” he told Yz after stopping the sand scooter.
          “Of course you are. Don’t be so mysterious!” she retorted. “Where is it?”
          “A few clicks up the hill, shouldn’t take long. Just follow me carefully and mind your steps, the stones are slippery.”

          #3506
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            “I see you are doing well with the exploration of playful spontaneity, Liz,” remarked Godfrey with a dry grin.
            “Don’t you start, Godfrey. Everything has to be planned down to the last detail first.”
            “Controlled spontaneity is it?”
            “More of a solid base, a platform if you like, a launch pad for a cooperation of revelation and inspiration, a raft for the craft to avoid a sea of confusion. That sort of thing.”
            “So, how’s it going?”
            “Oh, it’s going very well indeed! I think we’re on chapter 57 of the plans already.”

            #3461

            Lisa sneezed. She had forgotten she was allergic to fluff.

            “Are you sure that the temple will be there ?” asked Sanso who’d been thinking about those strange properties of the island.
            “I’m not sure”, cackled Lazuli Galore, “but that’s worth a try, don’t you think ?” He was wagging his tail, obviously happy to swim in the sea.

            Fanella had long stopped thinking about goals and directions, she didn’t mind where they were going. She was enjoying the fun of the ride, and even the rain seemed welcome. She was looking at the plum dolphins who had been following them since their departure. One of the young ones was particularly playful, he was swimming around the giant duck, and jumping out of the water each time he passed near the young maid.

            #3458

            Rene has been lonely. He stopped counting the centuries long ago, long after his creators had left Abalone. Long before the first settlers arrived and began to plant seeds of discord. He had been appointed by his creator to be the guardian of the threshold. He had long forgotten what it meant. He only wanted friends.

            When the first humans arrived, it seemed that they could be great friends. But they didn’t see the beauty of the temple, only its ruin. Which was sad, very sad. And so Rene stood alone in the old temple, the new temple, the middle aged temple, depending on the time corridor he took.

            Now, for the first time in eons, people were on their way to the temple. He would meet them with might and glory. He seemed to remember that most humans revered unicorns as symbol of purity and fairy tails, at least that’s what Rene heard from the mind of one of the newcomers. Lost in between aphids, Jack and asses. He didn’t know who was Jack. Anyway, he had chosen his sphinx shape. Rene would be a unicorn.

            #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.”

            #3431

            Jeremy’s landing was confusing. He’d been lost in an emptiness —for God’s know how long— where it seemed there was no rule at all. He couldn’t see his body, nor feel it, which was somewhat disturbing for a dancer. He’d tried to speak but there was no mouth to produce sound. He should have been afraid, but there was no body in which to feel fear. Though he could certainly feel the presence of Max. They were kind of merged together, which was a bit confusing as he experienced the desire to lick his fur, stretched his body and curl his tail. The cat seemed content, which also helped Jeremy focus and relax even if there was no body to relax.

            Then life sprang to him like a sausage. The association startled him for a moment, it was part of the minute mental and psychological adjustment to this new environment. His sense of hearing came back first. At first he heard round spitting sounds and red voices. Then it sounded more like human voices.

            “Can’t you give him a blanket, he’s naked. Maybe your cape Arona”, said a woman’s voice.
            “I think I have something in my bag that could suit him”, said a man.
            “What don’t you have in your bag.”

            When his eyes could see, he saw orange strokes in the sky as if it was burning. He suddenly felt nauseous. Yep, no doubt he had reintegrated his body. He sat up straight, and gagged.

            “He’s awake!”

            Jeremy couldn’t decide if he was indeed awake or merely dreaming. The girl who had just talked looked quite green, and an angel was getting clothes out of a leather bag while Max was trying to befriend another cat busy talking with a girl in a cape. That’s when he saw the robot and a blond woman with fizzy hair. The name Irina popped into his head.

            He tried to calm down with the breathing exercises he’d learned in his yoga class. The ruins of what looked like an ancient Mayan pyramid with Greek columns floating in the sky didn’t help.

            “His vitals indicate confusion. Nonetheless, he’s recovering quickly from the transfer, Madam”, said Mr R.

            #3390

            The heat wave on Abalone was making everyone sweaty and grumpy. With the recent ban of fans, considered a sign of sedition by the P’hopery, wind retailers were thriving more than in the last series of years.

            Arona, whose hair had a tendency to curl when wet, had found that the only solution was the “Dry air out of an oven” bottle.
            Before the last gushes of air were out, she asked : “ Mandrake, would you like some air ?

            #3333

            Jeremy didn’t understand what “sorry about the Chinese” meant when Sanso and his near naked woman friend had left.
            For one, it was a bit traumatizing to see them shrink again in the fat ugly mess of a cloth that was supposed to look vaguely like a doll of sorts, then disappear inside the map he’d been drawing for them.

            He looked at the map. A precious detailed map of an island, he’d been encouraged to draw for them. As usual he danced in a trance to make it, holding a cucumber in his hand as an anchor, the loon guy had said.
            Frankly, why he’d went along with their nonsense was now a bit beyond him. Probably seeing them getting out of Max had shaken his believability limit to a new level.

            The map was beautiful, drawn in fine green isopleths ; looking like the finest intaglio printing he’d ever seen that seemed to shift and move in gorgeous optical illusion patterns. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy it, as he’d promised them.

            There was a light knock on the door.
            When he saw the man’s face with his round sunglasses though the peephole, it dawned on him what Sanso had meant with his cryptic “sorry about the Chinese”, and Jeremy already regretted, too late, not having destroyed the map.

            #3330

            With the aid of the holographic map, Irina, Mr R and little Greenie have been exploring the island.
            The next day they found a crashed plane from Aeroflot, not very far from their own landing spot. It was half burried in the mud and covered in green mossy vegetation. The doors were open as an irresistible invitation to enter.

            “A surprise, Mr R. I thought that this place was on your map. If I remember well, it didn’t show such an object.”
            “Forgive me, madam, indeed this plane wasn’t there when I triangulated the map I showed you.”
            “You mean it’s fresh ?” Irina’s voice seemed to suddenly carry some interest. “Maybe we can find some survivors”, she added, already doubting it considering all the moss on teh metallic shell.
            “I’m afraid we won’t, madam. I didn’t want to bother you with that little detail until I was sure. There are objects on this island that only appear after a certain date. Have you noticed it also happens with the vegetation and the insects ?”
            Irina pouted, “I prefer leaving that to your expertise.”
            “Of course, madam”, said the robot, affable. “The paradox is…”
            “Another paradox ? How interesting.”
            “…that it doesn’t seem to include us, or that little person.”
            “Any idea what the implications are ?” Irina began to wonder if there was any danger of being stuck permanently on this island.
            “I have several hypothesis”, he began, “The most probable is the lost room hypothesis. We arrived there through time space displacement and are not a natural part of this environment, hence we don’t change with its natural environment or inhabitants because we are not under it’s time sequence according to the Lehmon’s law.”

            Irina pouted. She looked at little greenie and thought of the implications about how their new friend arrived there. Whenre did she come from ? For her to be a bog mummy, she must have been there a long time. Or did she arrived already bogged ?
            Something caught her attention about the plane and distracted her of further thinking about the subject of their continuity risk in this place. The logo of the plane looked not so oldish.
            “Mr R. ? What do you think the date of the crash was ?”
            “The plane was lost in 2112.”

            Without further thought about safety, she entered the plane, followed first by little Greenie as she have been calling her new protegee, and by the robot who despite still talking about technicalities of accidental space time crossing theory, had turned on his speleo lights.

            Interestingly enough, Irina noted the clothes on the chairs or in the alleyways, here a pair of glasses, there a necklace, all layered as if the person wearing them had been puffed away.

            “Well, well, what have we here ? The light Mr R, please,” said Irina with as much excitement as a snail. He obliged her with his usual professionalism, revealing a teal blue scarf with pistachio green spirals. She took the cloth and stretched it to have a better look. It was one of those artistic kind of hippy abstract patterns connecting you to the cosmos.
            “I can’t think of anybody who would buy that thing, maybe she stole it from one of those duty free shops before they took off,” she said as petulantly as a pitfall trap.
            “Come here little Greenie, it’s time to make you pretty.”

            Irina did not have the chance to play with dolls when she was a kid, she didn’t know if she had some psychological lack or a bad doyle dating from that unremembered period of her life. She had compensated by toying with real people, playing with their emotions and deeper needs, or what they thought they needed. She became an expert at manipulating others, which gave her her first job in insurances, and then in the secret services. But then, she dealt with adults, showing emotions, or a certain level of brain activity. She wasn’t used to children stored in bogs.

            She tried to put the scarf on Greenie’s head, and to smile like she had seen people do in the movies. Although something unexpected happened. Greenie became suddenly distressed and agitated. Then, she punched Irina in the face and began to mumble incoherent things.
            That child is stronger than I thought. And at the same time, she noticed a name in that gibberish. Didnt she just shout : “I frigging love you, Sadie Merrie.”

            “Her brainwave is showing unusual activity”, stated Mr R. “And my sensors indicate the presence has returned, with some friends. They just appeared outside of the plane.”

            #3329

            Jeremy was 23 years old and living in a 57 square meters apartment in Brooklyn. He had two passions in life. Dance and maps.

            Max growled. Well you could consider Max as Jeremy’s third passion. Max was a ragdoll cat with a tiny little genetic defect. His fur had this faint pink tint as if it had been put into a washing machine with red clothes. Max purred, satisfied.

            Jeremy’s apartment was an artwork in itself. He was painting as a hobby and had drawn a few maps on his white walls. He had the precise stroke that dance demands of a dancer’s move, he had the eye of a falcon concerning details and he loved connecting dots. For some of the maps he had used pointillism, and for others the ancient art of collage he had learned with his grand-mother Martha. Inspired by Matthew Cusnik he had made portraits of dancers with maps and other landscapes.

            Jeremy has been interested for some time in a particularly beautiful picture of the Abraham Lake that he wanted to render on one of the last remaining areas of his ceiling when Max jumped on his lap, purring like a caress junkie in need of a few strokes. Jeremy obliged his cat distractedly, too engrossed in the meanders of the picture and the few maps he could already see in his mind like a puzzle.

            Max jumped on the desk and tried to force his way between the keyboard and Jeremy’s hand. But he didn’t have enough time to fulfill his desire. The cat began to cough as if it had a train of thought stuck in his throat.

            “Shit! You’re not going to puke on my keyboard!”

            But it was too late, the cat opened its mouth and threw up a little ball of hair which bounced off the keyboard and crashed down on the floor.

            “ehw!” said Jeremy who cringed when he saw the hair ball on his carpet. “I don’t know what you ate but it smells like those wheat Polish biscuits.

            Jeremy had already taken some tissue to clean the cat’s mess, and the cat, certainly thinking it wasn’t enough was licking his fur again.
            “Don’t make another one like that. You know I don’t like it.”

            He was about to take the ball when it wobbled suspiciously. Then it began to grow. Jeremy blinked several times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. When the hairball reached the size of a soccer ball, it was obvious there was something inside, it was deformed like the belly of a pregnant woman when the baby kicks in her bowels.
            “What on earth have you spawned, Max!” He looked at his cat, horrified that it could be one of those Aliens.

            Soon it was as big as a corpse bag for two, and Jeremy could tell from the voices that there were at least two people inside.

            Sanso got out of the ragdoll hair ball first, perfect hair as usual. Fanella struggled to get out of the mess of hairs, and was a bit disheveled.

            “Time for a reality check”, said Sanso. “Am I dreaming ?” When he saw all the maps and the ragdoll cat, he knew he was at the right place.

            “Who are you guys ? And how did you get out of Max ?” asked Jeremy.

            #3300

            “You have such arousing arms, Mirabelle” said Lisa, tipsy from the summer cocktails.
            Mirabelle didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or bat her eyelashes. “Fancy a holiday? Just the two of us, somewhere exotic, or perhaps on an island somewhere? I’ve always fancied Corsica, or perhaps a rocky isle off the Amalfi coast.”
            “I don’t know what to say” Mirabelle replied. She wasn’t sure what Lisa had planned for her arms.

            #3299
            Jib
            Participant

              It hadn’t been easy to obtain Sadie a pay raise. The management always seemed to look for new ways to cut the costs wanted to give her an extra for the good job. Although this time, LP could put the golden balls and the rebirth of the network in the balance. They could have had enough to give the whole team a decent salary. Indeed, it wasn’t really fair that the young queens were not paid at all. Unless of course you counted props, wigs and fake eyelashes. Eventually, Linda got Sadie the extra and the raise she had asked for, and new contracts for the three young queens. She shall not forget the tears of joy in their eyes when she announced them they were part of the big Queer Network family. It had made her feel good and generous even if it was not her money she was giving.

              Linda Pol wrapped her luscious lips around an authentic straw and sucked up voraciously the glowing rainbow cocktail. Mmmmm, this new Peas’cocktail is divine, she thought. After the buzz created by their last network and that mysterious quest of Saint Germain for Peasland, peas-thingies were everywhere. She put the glass back on the edge of the Jacuzzi and looked at the little magenta umbrella for a moment. She didn’t know what was the most pleasing, the bubbles gently massaging her back in the water, or the gorgeous scenery of the Merry Otter resort in Maui. Linda Pol hadn’t had good vacation in a long long time, and if she had been in vacation this place could totally be one of her first choices destinations.

              Unfortunately, she wasn’t there for vacations or relaxation. She wasn’t there for exercise either. She had been asked to attend a conference and meet with one of those new Random Science scientists specialized in the ambergris tiles. As if it was a joke from the Universe, her name was Amber Graystone. But Linda Pol had long learned that there were no such thing as unusualness, you just hadn’t seen enough of the world.

              A boy came to refill her cocktail. Girl, you spend too much time looking at young bums, she thought, ageing beliefs were everywhere. She was feeling drowsy with the bubbles and the alcohol, almost dreaming of whales and ambergris.

              “… Graystone is taking her job too seriously”, said a man’s voice.

              Linda Pol opened her eye, just enough so that her fake eyelashes could still hide she was awake. When she was young, her curiosity had put her in trouble more times than the number of her pair of shoes. She had developed strategies and an incredible butt recognition skill. It had helped her win many contests in her youth and avoid boring conversations later on.

              The two men wore bath suits. Linda could clearly see that one of the butts was slack and lifeless. Almost avoiding the contact with the fabric. An American butt fed with hamburgers and soda. The rest of the silhouette seemed to naturally spread out from its central component.

              The other one moved like a mustang, the shiny red lycra was only here to help you see more clearly the outline of the flesh, not hide it. The curve of the bottom of the spine indicated a Russian ancestry. She felt a rush of adrenaline. She loved how Russians rolled their Rs. They could do many things with a rolling tongue.

              “You want me to take carrre of herrr ?” asked a voice carrying ice.

              “No, just remind her to whom she owes her subsidies. And her results.”

              #3272

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

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

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

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

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

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

              #3263

              “But we’re on vacation!” exclaimed the fellow with the bright orange wig. “You can’t send us on a timedraggling mission while we’re on holiday!”
              “I’m sorry but there really is no option. The other team is fully occupied in 2222. I did send them a message but they completely ignored it, they seem to be engrossed in a sub aquatic adventure,” replied the one in the blonde wig. “You will receive extra timetravel over timeslip, though” she added.
              “And an extra wig and clothes allowance?” asked the cheeky one in the top hat.
              “Oh, alright then! Now, here’s the situation. You’re to track down the Belen portal tile, stolen by Frank and Molly ~ last seen stuck in a carob tree down a goat track not far from Tavira. You will have to get there before Lisa and Mirabelle, which might not be difficult as they seem to have become sidetracked in the pursuit of Frank and Molly. If they get too close to the tile, send them on a wild goose chase somehow. I will leave the details to you ~ they are not hard to distract. Once you have located the tile, you’ll have to cloak it in the blue of longing, otherwise Lisa will pick up the trail again. Any questions?”

              #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.

                #3232
                F LoveF Love
                Participant

                  Queens Team and 2121 originated time-travellers

                  Reginald / Maurana Banana
                  Cedric / Consuela Winnie
                  Amar / Terry Bubble
                  Sadie Merrie
                  Linda Paul

                  Supporting team

                  Pseu, Maria del Mar, Janice (from the City, around 2257)
                  Sanso (from other dimension, multi-dimensional travel contractor)
                  Frindle, Trumble, Jingle (fuck knows who they are)
                  the Hawai’i techromancer

                  Management team (around 2222 and later)

                  Irina, mermaid Russian spy and parrot whisperer

                  Jonbert, the orchestrator of the time-travelling arcs, wanting to retrieve key information from St Germain which were collected in 1757. En route back to 2222 to intercept the whales’ crystal with help from Linda Paul’s team, and his luxury submarine

                  1757 King’s Versailles

                  The Queen
                  Madame de Pompadour
                  her maid Nicole du Hausset, coming from a line of time-smugglers
                  Mr Aliette the wigmaker and finger reader
                  Count de St Germain
                  Giacomo Casanova (pseudonyms Monsieur de St Galle / Jacques de Seingalt)
                  Father Balbi, Casanova’s travelling companion
                  Theater du Soleil actors (Lison Tailleur, Jean Pastisse, Geoffroy du Limon, Francette Fine)
                  Robert-Francois Damiens, the assassim
                  Jean-Pierre Duroy, the Grand Intendant, his wife the Pastry Chef Annie
                  Cook and Helper
                  ghost of Marguerite Isabeau

                  The 1757 originated time-travellers

                  Mirabelle the oldest and bossiest, Adeline the youngest (thief of the first ferret) and Fanetta, the French maids
                  Igor Popinkin, Boris and Ivan the Russian con-artists and saboteurs hidden with the Russian Ballet troupe visiting Versailles
                  Huhu the parrot
                  The Whale ghost, the ghost ship (died/sunk around 1600s) and time-travelling fin whales of 2020s
                  Belen, the whale
                  Santa Rosa, the galleon
                  the ghost obese gardener-captain Peter Pugh Petit Pois, from Peasland

                  The Spanish farm and fat mermaid dolphins

                  Lisa, Jack
                  Pierre and Etienne
                  The Italian cruise ship
                  pink Amazonian dolphins

                  #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”

                  #3200

                  Irina buzzed for her robot, Mr R. All the elite class had robots. Most nowadays were barely distinguishable from humans. However, Irina fancied herself to be someone who did things a bit differently. The design of Mr R was fashioned on the robots from classic twentieth century literature: his “head” a glass bubble sensor unit with moving antennae, his trunk-section a rotating cylinder with controls on the front, extending bellow arms that ended with mechanical claws and bellow legs with tread tractor units. He was able to move with deceptive speed and agility. Personality-wise Mr R was programmed to be the epitome of deference and tact.

                  “Did you have a pleasant time with Mr Sanso?” inquired Mr R politely. “I believe you have a spot of cucumber on your face. Allow me to remove that for you.” He did this with a deftness belying his dangerous looking extremities. “And how else can I serve you this morning?”

                  “Thank you, Mr R. Mr Sanso proved to be inscrutable as always. Please provide scanning assistance. Target 2121 Time travel mission 2222.”

                  “Delighted to oblige, Ma’am!”

                  Irina scanned the brains of the time travellers. The 3 drag queens were hypnotically sensitive and should be easy enough to manipulate. The girl, Sadie, was more problematic. Her motivation was happiness and her purity of intention meant that she would be difficult to manipulate successfully. Sanso, she knew already, was a law unto himself.

                  Irina felt a stab of fear as she thought of the 22nd of February 2222. (Fear was an unusual emotion for Irina—in fact all strong emotion was unusual—and it took her a moment to identify it.) All the 2’s in alignment. If the time travellers were successful in retrieving the crystal and decoding the information before that date, what would that fateful morning look like? Would Irina herself even exist? Doubtful.

                  Life was pretty good for Irina. In 2222 the Elite were free to pursue their goals—without the confines of the ethical and economic considerations of the old days. They were not confined to human bodies either; they could be robotic, animal or some other more exotic design or mythological creature. It really just depended on how the mood took them. Irina, with the expert assistance of Mr R, was planning in meticulous detail a mermaid-like body, complete with gills and a tail, so that she could travel to an underwater location for her next vacation.

                  It wasn’t like that for everybody though. And this “progress” had not come about without a huge impact on the environment. There were large pockets of people scattered throughout the world who had eschewed the new technology, instead choosing the way of Love.

                  “Looooooooove!” Irina rolled her eyes and Mr R chuckled politely on cue.

                  If Irina had her way they would dispose of the time travellers the moment they arrived. Or better yet, send a team back to 2121 and dispose of them there. Management had forbidden this route, not for any ethical reasons—there were few moral guidelines nowadays—but out of caution. The vote had been close. Apparently there were some documents from the early channellers foretelling disastrous consequences if the time travellers were unable to return to their century. Management had decreed instead that the time travellers must be diverted from their goal.

                  The crystal itself was closely guarded by the whales until the so called Chosen Ones arrived with the key.

                Viewing 20 results - 161 through 180 (of 291 total)