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Australia, Uluru, Dec. 2035

Sam wasn’t very fond of the Ooh dimension adventures; he didn’t yet have inserted a focus (or foocoos) here for that matter. And he was too engrossed in the City creation planning to design a few parks there anyway.

He just had his first night under the stars, on the freshly built wooden floor on top of a jujubaobab tree in the middle of the park where he could see the patterns he wanted to insert on the gardens. It looked a bit like the French gardens in the Versailles gardens most of his focuses liked so much in the past. He was aware of Yann, his shifting focus, who was precisely visiting the gardens at that same simultaneous time, with friends and family.
He laughed when he projected to him, and overheard a discussion where Yurick was pointing to a typo he made about the Jeff Kuuntz expo that was there. Decidedly, Yann had the same dislike of the Ooh dimension, preferring the Uuh’s.

When he started to go to sleep, the feelings started to blur in a strange mixture of imageries…

Jeff had strange dreams that night. He was singing Tumuuld to a certain Elizabeth who was speaking all funny, and playing djudjuriduu on the treetops, surrunded by inflated magunta colured balluuns…
Sometimes it tuuk his breathe away how life was strunge, but cuul.

A rendition of Eschraiel, Jib/Yann/Sam H. Ryell’s focus in the future who was introduced in that comment bodyflumping with Khris.

His focus animal is the nine-tailed fox, which appears sometimes in the story in bleedthroughs to his other focuses…

Finally, sailing on the Orgasmic Sea had not been as difficult as Akita would have thought .

Occasionally, while they were sleeping on the deck under the starry sky, he could hear a few “Ahs” and “Ohs” (something even some “Oooh” as far as he recalled) coming from the three ladies, but perhaps that was only the effects of their feeling again their skin against the sheets, since all their hair had almost now gone.

He was wondering if that was a special disposition of the Brits and people coming from the cold areas, that kind of bestial growing of hair, and shedding in spring… Could well be, as his Asian ancestors never had been accustomed to growing much hair themselves, he couldn’t tell for sure.

Perhaps they were dreaming too… As soon as they had found out about this strange piece of tile, their imagination seemed to have taken to new heights. They were speaking of Spreal, an ancient civilization buried for 570,000 years under the ices, near the Onyx river and had almost manifested the strong desire to come back to investigate.

Hopefully Kay had given him the perfect excuse to not comply with the sometimes erratic demands of the three Graces: the iceberg was slowly melting in the giant structure of plastic containing the freshwater from the berg, and the heat exchange was also giving the propellant for the trip. They probably wouldn’t be able to get away so easily if they backed-off now.
Hopefully their shedding had finished to convince them. Any vague desire left to go to the frozen place was long gone with the comfortable hairy insulation.

Akita had thought for a moment of going back to his homeland, in Arkansas. But now that probably most of his family was dead, or thinking him dead, there wouldn’t be much point in doing that. Instead, he’d decided to trust living in the present. Not worrying about that elusive past from another life, and only focus on what route was open to him now.
Sharon, Gloria and Mavis were apparently not in a hurry to come back home either, and now that Kay was more and more easily accessible for him, he didn’t feel alone at all. So all was well.

The two roses of Jericho had almost completely dried up, furled again into a tight ball exhaling a slightly pungent odor.

Yurick was impressed by the genius of this plant, which could die and “resurrect” countless times, while spending most of its time in this dried up state, only waiting for some water to revive it.

Perhaps essence was a Rose of Jericho too; he meant his wider self, he could feel it springing from the moisture of new prospects and challenges, then slowly crawling back to a state of balance. These last past days were a sort of clearing of the rest of the waters of the year. Things were looking a bit shriveled on the outside, but you could feel life and impetus was there, if only dormant…

Funnily, these two didn’t have any names, unlike Sha and Glo the aerial plants, which were still kind of resting on an empty beige egg carton upon the white toilets in the bathroom, where light, moisture (and aerial nutrients) surely never failed to float around.
It was funny, he thought all of a sudden; looks like the little hairy plants are travelers upon a big iceberg… What a funny story this would make.

So, the roses didn’t have names… If they were essences of roses, what would be their focuses?

Well, what was imagination telling him? He could easily imagine them as sort of strange mummies who would dry up into balls of dried flesh and sinews and being revived sometimes during the flood seasons. Actually with the news of Venice (and next Rome) being flooded if there were some old mummies suddenly revived from old times and prolonged lyophilization, that could be a place to start. Well, they probably would have a hard time coping with all the changes and the pace of this time.
Alabama or Louisiana would be fun places to have some too… Funny mummies…

Sanso job apparently facility times (ahah!)
tree late awareness completely
managed Liz lost focus feeling (oops, did I confuse Tracy with the last Oohs and oohs?)
next Balbina window busy writing (okay, keep that in mind )
suddenly escape

When he had been hit by the blow of the watermelbombs and the furious lady he had come to rescue, Akita found himself in a strange peaceful place. He was getting bits of what was happening, but the will to resist and fight seemed vanished in a distant scene he was only distantly aware of.
He was seeing Kay, his spirit dog beside him, beckoning him to another place of white luminous and warm peacefulness.

“Am I dying” he asked, feeling the answer to the question wasn’t very important.
“Don’t be silly” the dog said mentally “Just let go for a moment, it’ll make things easier for you to get out of this place to another one you’d prefer”
“I’m not sure going anywhere is so important, being here reminds me of something long forgotten”
“Yes, you know this place, you’re drawing to you some memories of others of your focuses, explorers from your time and also ancient dwellers, in a very very distant past. These living memories will help you.”
“You were there too, configured differently but I remember you from there”
“Yes” the dog nodded “you had a pack of dogs in one of these explorer focuses. I was the alpha one, see…”

Some scenes moved in the white foam sprinkled with diamond dust like he was seeing through openings in a crystal cave. All was so clear it was elating.

“But we’re never going to get out of this place, not without a boat, a plane, not without a compass… and not without a brain!” he was being drawn back to where his body was, wrapped in the warm snet, jumping on the back of the snow scooter. “These women will lead us to a sure death, and pretty fast!”
“Just relax, even if they don’t give that impression, they know what they are doing. They focus on what they want, and they trust. They can’t see the dead-ends you are seeing. Sometimes you get caught up in those other memories of yours. You’ve read adventures of Antarctica explorers, most of them were drama, but it doesn’t have to be the same broken record now, you’re going to love that time if you choose to…”
“They’re so focused on themselves it’s hard to believe you. They wouldn’t see a leopard seal as a threat even if it was at their throats!”
“But they wouldn’t even draw the predator to them in the first place.” Kay was saying warmly “Have a little faith in them, there is a surprise coming along that’ll show you beyond a shred of doubt that their allowing for miracles is fairly titanic.”
“Titanic, yes… Now tell me I shouldn’t worry with all those icebergs!”
“Indeed” Kay said with a hint of mischief in its ethereal voice “Now, let’s wake up and have some fun!”

“Jeeze, I can’t help to be continuously amazed by Becky” Al said more to himself than to Tina who was reading silently in the room next to his.
“She struggles so hard at times, when all she needs is a little attention…” he continued in his breath.

“What are you moaning about again?” Tina said, who unlike Becky was paying much attention even when she didn’t look like it.
“Moonbeams! Did you see that last entry? There was as close as moon and beams as you could get in the previous entries in the Reality Play… I really wonder why we make things so hard for ourselves at times…”

— Well, because it’s fun, I suppose she’ll tell you… Come on, you know how she is, you don’t need to play your sumafreak labouring it to the bitter end…
— I suspect you’re right… And who cares about randomness anyway; it doesn’t look much fun these past few days, does it?
— Sure…
— Like I say. Look, you don’t even barely write yourself; if I didn’t know you’re here, I would probably do with the Play like the tomatoes plant; uproot it and cut it in pieces in a plastic bag for recycling.
— Oh, but you have to admit the bedroom looks so much better without all these creepers around the place… All for what, twenty one tiniest tomatoes?
— Plus the last two still ripening on the cupboard, Al retorted in a sullen manner.

After a moment of silence, Tina laid her book down, and came closer
— Yeah, you’re right, I don’t find it very funny for the moment, especially with that shift of vowellness in the Ooh dimension,…
— Hehe, you mean, that nasty habit of telling ‘peanut’ instead of ‘poonut’?
— Oh yes, but not only that,… Well, it looks like all my characters are eluding me, becoming alien… if you see what I mean…
— Yes, I see; and I must say you’re doing great with that; Becky would faint at the mere mention of something becoming alien, Al couldn’t help but laugh.
— No, but seriously…
— I know. I think what we need is some more of your inimitable talent at creating syncs. You’ve always been the connector my dear with those “magifestations” of yours.

She smiled.

— Now, speaking of random syncs, what have you got to say about that; we could create a music band
— What?
— Hang on, here’s the band’s name: 57th Ward of New Orleans and we could call our first album… Mmm… That’s it: The Cup To Overflowing … What do you think?

Mmmm… that may sound weirdo, but it seems very feisty all of a sudden !

Georges and Salome’s journal

From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 4)

Legends of the past can tell you a lot more on the present than what sometimes is actually revealed by present events. I discovered the truth of this statement when we arrived with Cil at the capital of Tùrmk. As Cil was discussing with officials of the Turmaki Gatherings, I was offered to go to their House of Remembrance. It was, I gathered, a sort of physical repository of the knowledge of the Turmaki that would allow me to bridge the gap of my abysmal ignorance of their history.

I was only barely starting to understand the odds of the physical configurations of space in this dimension, and I was nonetheless more than eager to add history to my previous geography lessons.
Turmaki are living in a sort of interesting land forming a sort of circle at the centre of which lies the most beautiful sea I have ever seen, with a very subtle and vivid shade of deep indigo blue. Most of Turmakis’ activity was directed inward of the circle, and the outer sea wasn’t a matter of interest to them. Later at the House of Remembrance, I learned that there had been an agreement in the past with the other sentient races to not mingle, so even if there was not physical barrier, all they focused their attention upon was their land, and theirs only.
Their Capital City, Tùrmk, may probably be seen as a very rudimentary city by all Earth-biased accounts. However, at that time, I had not really seen much of the Earth to be blasée anyway, so I was quite receptive to the beauty of its simplicity. It was located at the foremost point of an inner peninsula known as the Nirgual’s Head, facing twelve beautiful islands on which sacred temples had been erected.

My fascination for the beauty of these islands led me to discover more about their significance. In the House of Remembrance, a similar structure of twelve doors led me to learn that the twelve families held significance even here and throughout Alienor as well. Representatives of the families were chosen among the Guardians, as I remembered Georges had discovered and interestingly some of them had had quite an influence upon the history of the various people of Alienor. I couldn’t really trace it back to tangible proofs, but as I said, some legends are quite telling — thus corroborating Cil’s earlier statements.

I have not much time left to start telling them now, but I will probably tell more about the Legends of the Six ‘Fudjàhs’ —or Power Objects.

(Part 3)

“Franiel, dear lad, are you here?”
The voice was sweet yet authoritative.

“Yes, M’am. Is there anything I could do for you?”

Franiel had been at the service of Madame Chesterhope for a few moons, but he felt like it had been his whole life. He quite enjoyed the peaceful life at her mansion, which was interestingly only seldom visited.

He was offered food and shelter for his doing some repair work for Madame Chesterhope when she was requesting it. The rest of his time was free, and he used to go wander in the calm neighbourhoor to observe the nature which was so different from anything he had seen before. It was as though the whole countryside was by eerie mimicry perfectly suited to the strange lady with the foreign accent.

The simple work in communion with this nature had streams of words rise inside him like seeds sprouting after a warm rain. He wasn’t sure he wanted to express them however.
He had tried a few times to tell Lydia, but her merciless laughter alone would have nipped any of his attempts in the bud.

One of his greatest satisfaction was to go to the ‘motorbike’ and try to figure out its functioning. Lydia had laughed at his stubbornness to try to make the old piece of junk work —by her own words, she’d rather delete the whole thing out of reality, if it was for her to decide. Luckily enough, it wasn’t for her to decide, and nobody else really cared for his attempts.

He wasn’t seeing Madame Chesterhope so often, and sometimes she seemed gone for hexades without anyone being able to tell if she was there or not. She simply seemed to have disappeared.
He had been buggered for a while to figure out who the “Others” she had mentioned on their first encounter were, but apparently, had said chatty Lydia who believed the lady to be completely nuts, she was referring to “TEAFERS” (said in a mock-conspiratorial tone). “Teafers?” Franiel had asked puzzled. “Ahaha, you’re so thick sometimes.” had answered Lydia almost chocking herself into gales of laughter “Thieves! She’s obsessed about thieves! I suspect she’s got some precious stuff she would hate to lose. But believe me, to be as obsessed by thieves as she is, she probably hasn’t got all this stuff willingly given to her…”

Anyway, with all that being said about Madame Chesterhope, she remained to Franiel as much a mystery as she was the first day he’d met her.

— “Yes. There is something I’d love you to do, sweetheart. There are people who seem to be coming, and the mansion hasn’t received that many gentlemen for a while, as you can obviously tell. I would love you to assist Lydia in preparing the ball room, and the main hall, do some fixing where it’s needed, that kind of things.”
— “Yes, sure M…”
— “I won’t be there the next days, so be sure to make all things necessary before I come back. I count on you.”
— “Very well M’am.”

Georges and Salome’s journal

From Salome’s account of her introduction to the Turmak People (Part 3)

Cil and I have stayed on the Murtuane longer than was required for the report on the events occurring here. Though it was not required, it proved invaluable for me to gather much information on both the planet itself, but more important, on the interconnections with the other planets and the Guardians themselves.

A pivotal point in this exploratory mission was the impressive encounter with one of the few still focused Nirguals of this dimension. N’meôrl, as he introduced himself to us, out of concern for the current events came to contact Cil despite his looking askance at the Guardians on the whole.
As it appears to be, due to their acute awareness of how energy can be manipulated to create one’s own reality, some of the Guardians became to view themselves as superior in knowledge and skills as to the other conscious creatures roaming on this dimension —most of whom already having far more understanding of things deemed “magical” in my own earthly dimension of origin. However, viewing themselves as such (though by no means the standards in the Guardians societies) had them manipulate some of these others; mostly to entertain themselves or to experiment, without concern as to the others’ reactions.

Frown upon by many Guardians, this practice was tolerated notwithstanding, and had created a few pockets of what the Guardians called “slaves”. Inquiring to Cil as to how people with such thin veils between their subjective creative source and the objective realizations could become “slaves” to others, she had struggled a bit to explain to me at first. Allowing her to reach into my awareness for associations or analogies with similar energetic displays, she surprised me —surprised is even a mild word for my initial reaction— by telling me it was the same as our religions. Struggling initially to understand her point, I find myself, if not entirely agreeing with it, at least being able to explain what she meant by that. To her, people were ultimately free unless they themselves were tricked into bondage. But bondage could be of various nature, and she continued to explain, physical bondage was the less efficient of all. “Guidance”, on the opposite, with the proper construction of suggestions and beliefs, could yield very efficient results.
So, those “rogue” Guardians were nothing else but priests? The difference between this association and Cil’s distaste for them seemed too strong. Perhaps I would have to reassess my own beliefs.

So, apparently some of these Guardians had been responsible for disturbances. Cil seemed to understand that something grave was happening, but when she tried to explain to me, once again words or clusters of thoughts seemed to fail her. She found in my memory some analogy which seemed again quite besides the point, though very intriguing.
She said it was similar to what our medicine men were doing with their needles. She probably had reached into my memories of traditional acupuncture medicine. She went on to compare the planets as a single body, with bumps and hollows in energy; usually, the body knows how to harmoniously balance both of these, and a bump can reflect into a hollow and vice-versa. Sometimes, when people create illnesses, the practitioner will move these to help. But something else was happening here: the flow was artificially changed, she said.
“What was the point in that?” I asked. She pondered for a moment, then answered without judgment that it was probably for the sake of the experience.
“The Nirgual is mostly warning us that this experience may not lead to an equilibrium before long. That it may profoundly modify the energy on the planets, and not for the better. The Murtuane and its Turmak people have mostly had a stabilizing impact on the very energetic events happening on the Duane. Modifying this could quickly take things out of our hands” she said worriedly.

It’s quite poetic today:

Already expect work
Shall black round focus
Watermelons times
Window night
Movie hope
Creation form
Georges met hot Madame
Theresa floor

“Did you see how Malvina went to her date?”
“Yes I saw it beloved” and she added with a giggle “though she probably wouldn’t like us to call that a ‘date’ huhu”.
“Ahaha” Georges was enjoying himself with various associations connected to his periphery. Associations with words like ‘date’, or with time-space connections, like the ones related to the dress Malvina was wearing.

Salome huddled herself up against Georges, and not looking at him, said in a dreamy gaze “I remember perfectly that first time we heard about the Zynder”
Georges answered, surfing on his own associations “I remember how people had so much trouble pronouncing it ‘right’ — Ze-In-dear, Zee-Indeer, Zaindher…ahaha it was so funny”.

Then coming back to Salome’s last sentence that had been hanging in the soft silence unanswered. “I think I heard about it before you did, but I was vaguely aware of it. You were the one to tell me the legend.”

“Yes, on that first day on the Kandulim, where the Zentaura told me about it.”
“I would love you to tell me again…”

The Legend of the Zyndre

as told to Salome by Zharon the 44th, of the Zentaura’s tribe

There is a legend among the people of this place, that people love to remind themselves of in times of despair. It’s the legend of this mythical creature named the Zyndre.
What the Zyndre looks like, nobody knows for sure until they see one. Because once you see one, you know what it is, without a shadow of doubt. It may be tricky because some people have seen one, and they get into fights about what it looks like, for such is the nature of the Zyndre that its form is diverse and it doesn’t show itself to two people the same.
That’s why my people have named it Zyndre, which means “the creature of a thousand forms”.
Some people have searched to catch it, but their attempts have always failed. For the Zyndre doesn’t show itself to the forceful people. The Zyndre is a peaceful creature that will find for you what you most desire.
That’s why many people have used to represent it with a large nose, for it is a seeker. It may find anything you want, but you have to desire it so much that it becomes the main focus of your attention. It burns in your head, not like a madness, but like a warm reinsurance, a soft knowingness that you will indeed find it, that which you desire most.
So that once you find the Zyndre, you know you’ve reached that thing that you desire, because the Zyndre is pointing you in its very direction.

“You know Georges”, she says “that night on the beach, I dreamt of the Zyndre”
“Really? And how did you perceive it?”
“It was beautiful, not like the classical representations we see, of that big-nosed creature; it was so elegant, like a small silver-shining spotted doe, with tall feet proportionally to its body, not unlike the Qilin of the ancient Chinese; and it was proposing me to ride it to escape its enclosure.
And I was thinking in the dream, ‘it must be strange and a bit uncomfortable when it’s galloping’ —because it’s small, and my feet will touch the ground.”
“So did you ride it?”
“Yes, and you were with me, and it was carrying us with ease and grace, like it was floating and gliding above the ground…” Salome looked at Georges with a smile “So that when I woke up, I knew without a shadow of a doubt, that I was exactly where I most desired to be.”

on a Yukailli Airlines Flyboat, Cruise#557
Long Pong vicinity, International Waters, October 2008

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We are sorry to tell you that for unexpected reason, the flight has been rerouted to Auckland, New Zealand. Our final destination, Tikfijikoo Island is under strict quarantine for an unknown…”

— “WHAT?!” Dory was drawn out of her clouds contemplation by the voice of Ignoratio Elenchi
— “Shhht!” Becky commanded her a bit rudely.

Then, after the voice of the captain faded out in an incomprehensible muddle, “Oh, great! Now, we didn’t get what’s happening…”
“Oh, as if we care for the reasons…” Dory said pragmatically. “Such a strange creating we did this time. I was so expecting to get to this island, and now it’s closed to tourists?”
“Don’t worry, we may get there later… At least, this time we got to board on this strange airline, even if just for a round trip.”
“Good point, Beck’!”

Then, as if a sudden idea had just stuck her she added with a gleam in her eyes “Hey, that’s a really nice creating actually; we may be back home just in time for Day of the Dead celebrations…”

Sometimes things seemed to work in cycles and round trips she thought to herself…

Rneyl ba na Bpgbore zbeavat. Gurer vf gur cebzvfr bs urng va gur fxl ohg sbe abj rirelguvat vf pbby naq fgvyy. Fur bcraf gur onpx qbbe bs gur pbggntr naq naq fvgf qbja pnershyyl ba gur jbbqra fgrc. Ure obql uhegf sebz gur avtug.

V xvyy guvatf, fur guvaxf, fheirlvat gur qel oebja cynagf va gur fznyy tneqra fur unq gevrq gb perngr.

Fur jbaqref vs gurer vf fbzrguvat gung jnagf gb pbzr gb yvsr vafvqr bs ure, gura uvqrf sebz gur gubhtug. Abg orpnhfr fur qbrf abg jnag vg, ohg orpnhfr fur vf nsenvq. Fur qbrf abg xabj ubj gb oevat guvf guvat gb yvsr. Gur fueviryyrq cynagf orne funec grfgvzbal gb ure snvyher…

[ encoded in ROT13 ]

“What is that?” she asks. “It doesn’t come from The Book, does it?”
“Well, our best team of psychic archaeologists just got it retrieved from purported old discarded bits in the Crypt.”
“of…? You mean… apocryphal part of The Book? Are you serious?”
“Quite possible, you see. Do you know what’s the ancient meaning behind that word ‘apocryphal’?”
“You tell me.”
“‘those having been hidden away’… But the intricacy of this reality makes it possible for us, in the future of The Book, to re-insert it directly into the past.”
“So they’re no longer ‘apocryphal’…”
“You could look them up actually, and perhaps you’ll find even the part where they’re speaking about us finding it even…”

— Aaaaalbert! You’re not ferreting again in my old discarded files, are you?
— Err… No, of course not Tina.

Al quickly changed the view on the cyputer and added with a hint of malice in his voice “You don’t have anything to hide from me anyway, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be silly Al, and you’d better prepare yourself. We’ll be late for the big Hallowe’en party at the Father Chase Memorial Garden. Becky’s supposed to make an apparition at the party, remember.”
“Becky? You mean… The Becky?”
“Yeah… You’re so absent-minded sometimes sweetie, good thing you got me, Sumafi as you are. Yes, that old twaddle-speaking silly exotic Becky, the one and unique!”