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July 22, 2014 at 9:58 am #3290
In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
After a moment of stunned silence, Sadie decided that trusting in synchronicity to provide the answers, or rather the questions, was her best course of action. She quickly pulled up a random question generator on the e-zapper and asked politely, “Have you always had such arousing arms?”
July 22, 2014 at 8:23 am #3287In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
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.
July 22, 2014 at 6:06 am #3283In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
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 *BOIt 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.”June 15, 2014 at 11:42 am #3221In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
Mirabelle and Adeline sat in the morning sun on the verandah, appreciatively nibbling the perfectly formed sliced toasted bread and marmalade.
Almost six months had passed since they’d been found on the beach, confused and soaked, babbling incoherently. An early morning beach walker had found them (she had wondered if she was dreaming or hallucinating), and had attempted to engage them in conversation. A rudimentary smattering of French acquired during a grape picking sojourn in France many years ago helped. Much of what the bizarrely clad group said was incomprehensible, but it was clear that they were lost and hungry, so Lisa invited them back home with her. They were reluctant to get into the car, fearing a trap, and when she started the engine, they panicked and scrambled to get back out until Boris calmed them down and suggested they had better trust this stranger because frankly, what were their options? She seemed kind and helpful, even if she was shockingly under dressed with her legs exposed for all to see, and had an invisible and very noisy horse pulling her carriage.
Lisa lived in a relatively new community of creative and forward thinking individuals who were in the process of renovating an abandoned village in the orange groves. They called the village the Trading Post, a name that was a loose play on words on the social media platform where they had first become acquainted and traded and shared posts. They were a diverse assortment of people from all over the world, united with the common goal of experimenting with a new type of anarchist culture, a novel creative and expansive playful approach that was becoming increasingly popular.
Pierre and Étienne’s knowledge of French had come to the rescue upon the first arrival of the group, as they unraveled their strange tale. After much confusing conversation and translations for the rest of the occupants of the village, it became clear that the group were time travelers, although somewhat accidental and clearly unprepared.
While the travelers rested after an unfamiliar but welcome meal, the villagers discussed the situation with much interest and curiosity. It was decided that they would keep the news of the travelers a secret for the time being, and gradually assist them with learning about their new timeframe, current customs and the local languages.June 15, 2014 at 12:29 am #3220In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
Irina wondered why Management was insisting she take a vacation in January. The memo she received only raised more questions, both of a philosophical as well as practical nature.
Irina
Your mission is to get the time travellers to trust you. Then await further instructions.
Faithfully, Management
Appendix 1: there is no such thing as trust
Appendix 2: believe in trust totally, and believe in it not at all.
Appendix 3: if you are trusting that there is no trust then you are trusting in something.
Appendix 4: FOR THOSE WHO NEED TO KNOW: it is January 18th, 2222June 9, 2014 at 6:00 am #3192In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
Pseu was monitoring the progress of the hot air balloon and its motley crew. The prevailing winds were from the west, which would have blown the balloon towards Siberia, quite the opposite direction to their intended destination of the lighthouse on the Galician coast. Despite protocol which decreed that weather manipulation whilst time travelling should be strictly avoided, Pseu had no option but to reverse the wind direction. Thankfully she had excelled at her weather training in the City, and was adept enough to limit the wind direction change to a narrow swathe of air currents immediately affecting the balloon. (Superstitious peasants working in the fields below upon noticing the strange craft flying rapidly against the wind crossed themselves and scurried away from the shadow of the balloon, fearing eternal damnation.)
The occupants of the balloon were meanwhile appreciating the scenery from an entirely new perspective, oblivious to Pseu’s assistance and merely enjoying the ride and trusting that they would reach their intended destination.June 4, 2014 at 2:02 am #3182In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
Sadie briefly considered suggesting that her rampage of negativity was another brilliant idea for a team building exercise, but given the circumstances decided there really wasn’t time.
“Fuckityfuckfuck!” said Sanso checking the messages on his trusty sabulmantium. Of course, Linda Paul had tried to persuade him to use one of her fancy e-zappers but Sanso had steadfastly refused. The sabulmantium was aesthetically so much more pleasing to him, and much easier to synch with the multitude of devices used in the different time periods he was sent to work in.
“Ive got to do what!” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I was looking forward to a bit of R&R in 2222. Well, I can’t guarantee the zebras but I will do the best I can.”
June 2, 2014 at 7:02 am #3174In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
“Frindle, is Geoffroy alright?” asked Trumble. “He seems to be muttering that peculiar gibberish again, is he having another one of his turns?”
“It’s his control issues again, Trumble, he’ll get over it. I think he’s already seeing the green light. He’s having trouble seeing each moment as discrete, with it’s own back story, each story entry as a picnic basket, complete with it’s own history and associations. Each picnic basket is a piece of the puzzle, but they may not fit immediately together, and I think that’s what troubles him.”
“As usual, you’ve hit the nail on the head, Frindle. Funny how it all seems like deja vu, doesn’t it?”
“Trusting that the invisible connecting links are seamlessly interwoven even if they are not apparent is not for the faint hearted” added Jingle, “It would behoove us to remember that we all struggle at times to fit the pieces together. Which is why this is all such a beneficial exercise.”
“True enough, Jingle” replied Trumble. “Many’s the time I’ve had a mad scramble to find a connecting link and make it fit.”
“And many’s the time you’ve fucked up but by not paying attention, Trumble” Frindle pointed out.
“Ah, but that’s because I’ve been paying attention to another aspect instead, you rude tart” retorted Trumble.May 29, 2014 at 6:08 am #3151In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
Sadie was momentarily distracted from her team morale building attempts by her telepathic conversation with Pseu. Could she afford to go out of body at this crucial point in the mission?”. Linda Paul would not like it but Pseu could be very compelling at times. Sadie did not entirely trust Pseu—there had been whispers at the Academy that she was somehow connected with the Russians. Sadie wasn’t too worried about that; she knew all that mattered was her own high vibration.
May 29, 2014 at 5:59 am #3150In reply to: The Time-Dragglers’ Extravaganzas
“Sadie! psst!” Pseu whispered. “Come with me while they’re getting prepared, they’ll be ages sorting those hoops and bums out.”
“Where are we going?”
“To the Estate, I want to show you the new KILT tiles and the links to the thread in 2014.”
“But I’m having enough difficulty keeping the threads of this thread in order, Pseu, really!”
“They’re connected, it will all start to make sense, trust me!” Pseu replied. “Finn the whale has just made an appearance: in the Gibraltar waters.”
“How can that possibly be connected to Versailles?” Sadie looked unconvinced.
“Trust me” repeated Pseu. “It will become clear when you’ve seen the new tiles.”March 29, 2013 at 3:17 pm #3019In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
The Pointy Hat surge had been resurrected in Spain, a premature re-enactment of an elaborate ritual of the religious past. Premature because the ritual wasn’t quite in the past yet, but was hovering on the shoreline of past ritual and future re-enactment. The overall energy of the surge was difficult to categorize, and a challenge to divert ~ if indeed, a diversion was necessary.
Mari Fe was wary of creating another fiasco like the Three Kings Parade, and had not announced any detiled plans, or any details, either. She trusted that should a surge diversion team be required, a surge diversion team would appear; and sure enough, the Wordblade had answered her call. Mari Fe was aware of the false flag propaganda about the Wordblade, and the deliberate rumour that the Surge Team was looking for him, but she secretly admired his alphabet slaughtering ways and radical approach.
As the letters of the alphabet came straggling in from the battlefields of the south, Mari Fe welcomed them, and gave them all soup, urging them to rest. She warned them that they may be called on during the weekend, if the premature retro rituals got out of hand.
March 29, 2013 at 11:08 am #3017In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
meanwhile in South Africa, an alphabet slaughtering surge made landfall, scattering the inhabitants, celebrities and everyday heroes alike. Some suspected the elusive Wordblade
“Alliteration ascends the assonance of abseiling abstract aspects of anterior antiquities from ancient altars,
Bouldering down blocks of brooks that break the boring & bland borders of bondage,
And blinking through bleak and black boxes of brisk bravery.
Creeping into crops of crooked crocks with crotches of cockroaches cramming into cans of calamity, the crisp cat crackles the calling.
Dreaming of damning devils and demons dancing in droplets of dreary darkness drags the drunken diligence from the draught’s damnation,
Even the everlasting ethereal elves ebbed and eased into the effervescent eloquent estate of eternal elitism.For the feeble and fumbling fatuous frontiers, the folly frolicked and fornicated with the familiar friend from foes’ fervent fevers;
Greater than gradient grand gestures of gestaltic granite grasses,
The gruesome grizzle grabbed the gore by the gripped grunting.
Higher than homelands of hands in horizons,
Heavens and Hells or Hades hazily hear the honing of the horses and horns-
In internal infernos of inflicting infringes of institutional insurrections Interrogations instigated imminent innate innovations.
Jacknives of jaundiced and jilted jokers jabbed at the jumping jingles of the jesting jackals that jet over jerseys of jeering,
For the Killer Krakens kelp the kites from kids who keep kaleidoscopes of kind and keen keepers.Longer than languid lads that laze in lost latitudes the lieutenant lounged behind lines of lingering losses-
Maids mellowed around mazes of men and manners of mad moments and made for mates on mattresses on mothered matrimony.
Noisy & never-ending neckties on nests of nicked numbers never nominated the nurses that nosed the nuns for nuns’ nihilism
Beyond the Oligarchs of overt operations of obligating omnipotence ostracizing the omniscience & omitting its ownership to the omnipresent order.
Pilgrims to pentagons by people from poached & palpitated places of placards of propaganda pondered their positions in this power polarity
When quivering quills of quavering queens quelled the quarterly quests of the quaint quarrels.Because roving rivers of raging ravines and raving reviews raced to the rest of the ripped rampant ravages and revelled at the rambling randomness
Structured subsiding and subsidized societies should string the strongholds of the supreme sultans of seeded senses.
Taking the trusty treaty the trussed toppled truants took the trickling ticking of time to the tables of trampled trees of timber,
For under the ubiquitous umbilical umbrellas of ultra-sounds from upper-level ulcers underground underworlds underestimated the union.Vivid visions of voracious vampires of vexing vacuum vortexes vilified the vindicated vindictives from the violent vapid vanity
While wild & wily whiskers of whispered whisky whisked the wailing widows
From the wells of wanting when the wanton warriors walked on waters.
Yards of years of yearning the yesterday’s yonder yarns of yellow yolk yawned Into the youth’s yoked yams
For zigzags of zapped zebras to zip the zest in zealous zones.”February 21, 2013 at 7:32 am #2997In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
After a few months travelling from Spain to France in their quest for the dragons, with already two visa applications for China rejected, endless unkind mocking laughs or condescending looks from strangers, and having had to pawn temporarily the sabulmantium to buy Vincentius a shirt, Arona and her motley family were thinking it was time for a turn of fate.
It didn’t take them too long hopefully.
Of course, the sabulmantium was recovered as soon as they had realized it was actually more lucrative in this dimension to have Vincentius take off his shirt in shady bars at night for a few meals and lodging, and some little extras. Mandrake had been kind to provide ample squeaking mice supplements, which Arona had politely declined, for which Mandrake faked each time the saddest of disappointments. All in all, so far their life on the roads had been easier than she would have thought.
Of course, they’d lost Sanso a few times as he couldn’t stay at one place for too long, and keeping track of his movements was near impossible. So they relied on trust that he would always find his way, which surprisingly enough, he did every single time.He had been the one to provide them with the way to the island actually. One day, after weeks without news, he’d reappeared, hammering at the door of their little room at the top of their 9 storey hotel in Paris, near the St Honoré Market Place. He was wearing the quaintest bright violet velvet surplice, and was carrying a bottle of glowing green liquor.
To settle in a lovely island of the Ocean they called Pacific… It didn’t take too much convincing: Paris was starting to get boring, and far too cold. Arona missed the moist glowing warmth of Leormn’s cave, that was so good for her skin. She didn’t miss the riddles though.
The entry point of the tunnel was inside the catacombs, and they’d almost got lost a few times, she could have sworn, although Sanso was ever confident they were on track, even when a few dead-ends were staring at him in the face with toothless skulls grins. But after a few hours, the tunnel actually broadened, and glowed a lovely shade of orange.
It was funny, traveling through the Earth’s crust, made her almost feel at home. If all the dragons of this realm had left, and were hidden somewhere, she was certain it had to be to such a place. It gave her hopes again to meet one in this strange land which had forgotten magic.
January 7, 2013 at 4:31 pm #2945In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
His razor blade in left hand (he was ambidextrous with a slight favour for the left side), Ed suddenly remembered his future struggle with the daft cumbersome vermillion man, so he quickly turned off the portal. Then, against all common sense and years of procedures, decided to put it into his pocket.
Everything following came back at once, interspersed with bits of smashed objects and blurs. But something he distinctly remembered was that Mari Fe was in the apartment, although he didn’t remember bringing her home from last night. It was against company policy to sleep with subordinates, so it had to mean something fishy.
Recalibrating the portal using the failsafe code, he directed it to the secret headquarters where he had started to stockpile dangerous artefacts collected from previous surge control operations, deciding it was the best course of action before assessing who was to be trusted or not in his Chicks team…January 5, 2013 at 11:22 am #2909In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Mari Fe was wondering how long Ed was going to be in the bathroom. There had been no further sightings of the time travel mouse, and still no sign of Bee and the red car, and no sign of Baltazar arriving from Tartessos either. And just a few hours to go until the parade!
Mari Fe decided not to worry, and trust that everything would work out. But deciding not to worry wasn’t the same thing as changing her energy, as she was reminded when she heard the sounds of shouting and breaking glass coming from the bathroom.
“Ed!” Mari Fe banged on the bathroom door. “Ed! Open the door!”
January 5, 2013 at 5:07 am #2907In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Yann was proud of himself, he had answered his first phone call in Chinese.
When they first arrived at the hotel, it was a wonderful and colorful place, all those reds and warm yellows, with well chosen touches of blue and green. The morning light was illuminating the lobby in a soothing way, it seemed as if it was gently brushing the leather of the armchairs and sofas. He noticed an old cleaning lady carefully sweeping the tiles of the floor one by one.
“I love this place”, he had told Yurick. “It’s so peaceful, I feel energized.”
The big smile on his face stayed there even when he first realized noone in the hotel could speak English or French, or even Javanese. Yurick was speaking Chinese after all.
But Yurick was not always here. He had to go out for a meeting with a certain Lulla for work. And Yann desperately needed to call a taxi. So he plucked up courage and called the hotel management.“Ni hao [incomprensible Chinese words] ?”
Did it really ended with a question mark ? Yann was not sure. “Ni hao”, he said. He was so concerned by the thought of his awful pronunciation that he missed what the person answered.
“I number 447 (translated from Chinese). I wanting taxi.”
“[incomprehensible] 47 ?”
“No. 400, 40, 7.”
“Ah! 447. You are the French guy. (translated from Chinese)”
“Yes, French guy. I wanting taxi.”
“Ok, [incomprehensible]. Ok ?”
“Ok. Thank you.”He hanged up the phone with an artificial sense of trust. That, he had learnt in that country was primordial. You launched your rocket of desire to the universe and trust that it would all end up as you desired. With that philosophy you better be clear with what you wanted.
January 1, 2013 at 7:57 am #2888In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Aqua Luna was was mopping the floor of the Surge Team’s HQ. She was not strictly speaking a member of the Team, and the only sponge insigna she had was her mop and the few sponges she used to clean the keyboards and the screens of “the deck” as they called their room full of computers and screens and blinking red and blue lights.
She’s been here for ages, since Lord Ed Steam had founded the organisation actually. People didn’t usually pay attention to her and she could go everywhere. Almost. There was a room where she couldn’t go and she didn’t know what was in there. Only the higher ranked members could penetrate this secret room. She tried several times to cast a glance just before they closed the door, but there always was some bloody smoke coming out of the room.
Her mama had told her many times, ‘Aqua Luna, there is no smoke without fire’. There must be a huge fire inside that room for it’s always smokey.
The door opened again, but she was too far and she only could see the fumes again. ‘Could that be a dragon ?’, she thought. But what use could the surge team have of a dragon. Aqua Luna knew for sure that dragons were real. Her Mama had told her so when she was a kid, and she trusted her Mama, even when she was shouting at her. ‘It’s for your own good Aqua Luna”.
This time it was that young woman, Cornella who went out. She seemed concerned and she was talking in her unicomp.
October 1, 2010 at 7:40 am #2709In reply to: Strings of Nines
As any mindful reader, if there are indeed any who have been following this wondrous tale, would surely know by now, the idea that Mandrake would lick Arona’s toes is extremely unlikely. True, Arona did proffer her toes invitingly to Mandrake, however he merely snorted and disdainfully looked away.
“That Wawakawakwaka place with about 35 letters in between the “W” and the “N” sounds very odd doesn’t it?” mused Arona.
“Thirty four letters as a matter of fact.”
Arona rolled her eyes. “Trust you to count them.”
January 21, 2010 at 10:32 am #2402In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
“What?” The Majorburgmester of Peasland almost laughed of surprise at the incongruity of Fwick con Troll’s idea. “You’re telling that this…”
“Little spider, yes”
“Contains a potent venom that could wipe the blubbits off the face of Peasland?”
“Absolutely, dear Majorburgmester”
“Are you out of your Fwicking mind, Fwick? What breading this nasty spider could possibly bring us any better than a plague of crop-eating blubbits in rut?”
“I was actually talking of breeding them, sir” Fwick objected
The Mayor continued unperturbed “Besides, we already have our fierce constable Stoll drill the mythic Eight Dimension for answers.”
“That would be placing a lot of trust in that foolish venture, I’m afraid to say, Majorburgmester. To date, very few people have managed to return safely.”
“Oh, who cares if they ever bloody come back Fwick! Come on! All we need to do is extort the answers from his spouse who’s kept all their heads in a safe place, I have no doubt of that.”
“Well… I wouldn’t place my head on this bet if I were you…”“Ah, bugger off then with your stinking spider, and do your bloody experiments… As long as it doesn’t involve my name, and especially in case any misguided and sad assassination should occur, ahahaha. I’m joking of course.” The Mayor’s face (which was framed and hanged on the wall of the Majorburgmester Hall’s main office) suddenly shut any hint of humanity that could have been left on it.
January 5, 2010 at 2:14 pm #2400In reply to: The Eights’ Shift, Stories
Phurt knew there was something strange, her previous memory was that she was dead and now she seemed to be perfectly alive and alert.
The environment was strange, though. It was all full of little balls and she could see many headless people. Compared to them, her size was quite ridiculous and she prefered not to make her presence known for the moment. She will have time later for her projects of conquest of the world. But is what world was she?All at her thinking, she didn’t see the creature coming and she almost died again out of fear when it began to breath in the air around. Maybe it was some kind of hoovering creature. She began to feel the vibrations as the dog (who has his head on for a change) began barking to notify his master that he has found the strangest little creature aroud. The master of the dog was a child of New Peasland and when he saw that strange little creature that he had never seen before, he called for his mother, who in turn didn’t know the little creature at all, and she asked her neighbor what it could be, but the neighbor didn’t know as well, so the went together to the mayor who in turn didn’t know what to think of it, but he was sure it had not been spotted before by a mayor of New Peasland, he would be the first, and he asked the kid to entrust him with his find and that he would tell him soon about it, thank you!
All alone in her matchbox, Phurt started to relax, the last few event had been frightening and she couldn’t do anything to escape her assailants, but the eventually let her alone, even if it was in some kind of jail.
MOUAAHAHAHAHAH, she laughed of her little spider laugh, which resembled more to a little squircking sound than to a laugh, especially in the New Peasland dimension. She had laughed because the walls of her prisons seemed quite tender and it would not demand her too much effort to get out. But for now, she was exhausted and needed some rest. It was not everyday that you found yourself alive again.
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