📚 › Doctor’s Orders

Following the very misunderstood Doctor Chris Bronklehampton in his various quests to better humanity. Not being shy of a few casualties on the way to said betterment. Mummies and magpies may be found, beehived assistants as well…

So the Story goes...

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  • May 8, 2008 at 11:56 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #837

    As Claude was entering deeper into the giant babul tree, the obscurity was resounding with joyful peals of laughters and whispered words that seemed to mossify into his mind, like they weren’t really words, but bubbles pops and boobles.

    He was resolute to find out whatever was going on in this place…

    May 9, 2008 at 8:01 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #839

    Veranassessee stared anxiously out the window of the compound kitchen. The sky was grey and threatening. The weather forecast was predicting strong winds and high tides asTropical Cyclone Ycart headed towards the coast.

    She could hear an annoying high pitched chattering in the distance, Sha and Glor were clearly delighted to be reunited with their old friend. The other two new arrivals had declined all offers of hospitality and had slunk quietly to their room.

    In her hand was the little jar of black stuff Mahiliki had sent her in his latest parcel. “This is full of Vitamin B. It will do you good” the note attached had read. She rolled her eyes. Ever the romantic, she muttered to herself. She put her knife in the jar and tentatively licked the gooey concoction.

    TELE LEVU OULU COW!

    She spat the disgusting stuff out and looked around for something to try and rid her mouth of the dreadful taste. To her suprise she found a plate of honeycomb in the fridge. Although there were bee hives on the island, Dr Bronkelhampton had always insisted upon tending them himself, becoming quite agitated if anyone else went near them,. Lately his mental state had not predisposed him to doing much more than shutting himself away in his office.

    I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Agent V, came a familiar voice behind her.

    May 9, 2008 at 11:59 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #841

    Jarvis was dozing in a dark corner of the kitchen. He was dreaming of bees, he had been assigned to the bee keeping a few weeks ago, just after the “incident”. He was one man the Dr could trust. In a previous life, he was keeping bees as a family business. But an accident with the bees led to his dismissal by his uncle. A regrettable accident, too much smoke, too much dead bees. Jarvis had been thinking of a sabotage, surely he had been framed but as he was thinking of quiting this poor paid job, it was also a perfect occasion.

    He had been engaged as a security agent… sort of. He had to pretend to be a gardener and not awake suspicion among the others. The funny thing is that he had soon been contacted by another organization, and had been offered quite a good price. All he had to do was observe and dream. Unfortunately, the man, Claude, who had approached him was disguised as a patient… and he had disappeared after the “incident”. Since then Jarvis had been having strange dreams of mummies, magpies, there was even one with 3 eyes 2 nights ago :yahoo_waiting:

    The light was turned on abruptly. Someone was arriving, still hidden by the tables and shelves.
    With the sound of the heels on the tiled floor, that was a woman… or the Doctor.
    A little twinge told him not to let him be noticed yet. He moved his head silently in a position from which he could see who it was.
    Oh! that big athletic woman, Vasse.
    Claude had told him about her. Jarvis had to be very cautious, because she was of another organization… another :cat_confused: he was calling her agent V. Well Jarvis wasn’t curious enough to ask any further detail, there were already too much to remember.

    She was doing something with a little jar of a brown substance, and brought a spoon full at her mouth. Her sudden coughing and spitting almost made him fall off his chair. But hopefully with all the noise she hadn’t noticed. Mumbling, she was heading toward the fridge. Was she possibly aware of…

    Yes! she was taking the plate with the honeycomb… he’d have to move quickly.
    As she was considering the modified honeycomb, he realized that she was about to eat it. So she didn’t know. :-? He had to warn her.

    — I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, Agent V…

    May 10, 2008 at 7:35 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #845

    She put down the plate of honeycomb and turned round slowly, her calm exterior belying the fear which had suddenly gripped her insides.

    He had called her Agent V!

    She had to stay calm, think quickly.

    And why is that, Jarvis?

    Jarvis, what did she know about him? He had been employed by Dr Bronkelhampton, although Veranassessee had resisted the idea vigorously. The fewer people on the island the better as far as she was concerned. But the doctor had insisted he needed someone to tend the gardens, and in the end she had decided it wasn’t worth making an issue of.

    I think I might be able to answer that question. Agent Gabriele entered the kitchen. His sudden presence had almost as disconcerting effect on Veranassessee as the revelation that Jarvis knew her identity.

    A little sideline of our beloved Doctor is to experiment with honeybee mutations. Isn’t that right, Jarvis? And in the process he has discovered a way to alter the chemical composition of the honeycomb. It looks and tastes like honey, but too much of it is deadly.

    Veranassessee turned to Jarvis. You knew this Jarvis …. but then why leave it in the fridge … and why warn me?

    Wasn’t me left it in the fridge. I saw it there earlier. I figured the Doctor left it there. Buggered if I know why. He’s an odd one that one. Getting odder by the minute too.

    A loud clattering outside and they all turned.

    Winds getting up quickly, said Agent Gabriele in clipped tones. Secure the hives Jarvis. God knows we don’t need mutated bees on the loose. V tell the guests to stay in their rooms and away from the windows, and then meet me in my room. I’ll deal with the Doctor.

    :fleuron:

    Bloody windy here aint it. Thought I was coming to a bloody tropical paradise! Mavis was looking outside anxiously.

    Oh this aint typical. The weathers been grand. We’ve been out bloody sun baking most days.

    Oh we have! The sun and airs got special beauty qualities here. That Vessie told us that. Encourages us to get out and about.

    Ere I know what will cheer you up. Lets get a snack from the kitchen. There’s some special ureu beauty biscuits in the pantry, and the chocolate brownies are bloody delicious. Who’d have thought chocolate had special beauty qualities eh. She’s a genius that Vassie. Oh I tell you what, I found some lovely honeycomb in the fridge this morning! Sharon licked her lips in anticipation.

    Oh I’m bloody drooling here, Sha! You’re a bloody genius you are

    May 12, 2008 at 1:44 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #865

    Dr Bronkelhampton was eager to come back to the fridge to see if one of his patients had taken the bait.
    So far, his new discoveries have been promising. The use of honeycomb was a clever move, that would drastically lessen the need for expensive and cumbersome machineries. All he had to work out was the dosage.
    He was not sure the induced mutations wouldn’t be deadly…
    After all, that was what guinea pigs were meant for.

    MWAHAHAAHaaahAHha… cough cough… His Machiavellian manic laugh died in a raucous fit of coughing.
    That had almost ruined his eyeliner.
    Bugger it

    May 13, 2008 at 8:35 pm in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #873

    A few moments later she was not so sure.

    What’s the matter?

    Oh you know … I am a bit distracted …too much going on I guess. She did not want to tell him that she could feel the presence of Mahiliki strongly in the room, his sweet trusting face gazing reproachfully at her. He would be worried about her, worried about the storm. She wondered how he was getting on.

    I understand, he smiled ruefully, it’s hardly perfect timing is it? Anyway that wasn’t the reason I asked you to meet me here, but I guess it just seemed like too good an opportunity to miss.

    I am sorry, she said, rolling her eyes.

    Maybe some other time. He handed her a robe.

    Sure. She wrapped it tightly around her. Anyway, the Doctor?

    All taken care of. I left Nurse Bellamy administering warm coconut milk, unbeknowst to her laced with a sedative. The Doctor will be peacefully sleeping for at least 24 hours.

    And Jarvis?

    Jarvis is an opportunist, but not dangerous. He was employed by the Doctor as a bodyguard, but has since changed sides. He is now working as a spy for the Magpies.

    The Magpies?

    Your hunch was right. The Magpies are operating on the Island, and they plan to strike soon.

    :fleuron:

    Sha was gazing dejectedly at herself in the mirror. Glor what d’ya reckon. Are all these bloody beauty treatments working or wot?

    Course they are!

    They looked at each other. Well, maybe it’s a bit soon to tell eh? she said doubtfully.

    Mavis! Sha shook the lump covered completely by blankets huddled on the bed. Come on Lovey, the storm won’t urt you. What d’ya reckon Mavis, ‘ow do we look?

    A dishevelled head popped out. You both don’t look no bloody different to me, ‘cept you’ve put weight on, she said honestly.

    Well that bloody does it, said Glor, We’d better find that Vessie, find out wots wot!

    May 14, 2008 at 12:08 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #876

    Oh what absoloote rubbish, giggled Elizabeth Tattler, taking another large sloorp from her 4th glass of red wine and putting large determined scribbles through the last chapter of the latest Noovel. It was the continuing saga of the Tifijikoo Island story. She really had to finish it, old whats-his-face was on the telepooh to her daily now, demanding to know when it was to be finished.

    More Sex! he had shouted at her last time. More sex, we want the bloody thing to sell don’t we!

    Well I have shut you up haven’t I, she snorted to herself, thinking happily of Dr Bronkelhampton passed out on the couch wearing a pink dress and mascara running down his face.

    More sex eh? Hooommmm, Elizabeth did not particularly believe in putting extraneous sex in her noovels. At the same time that character Veranassessee was annoying her a bit with all her indecisiveness. And what a bloody mouthful that name was. Was it too late to change it? hooommm probably. She had modelled her roughly on the cleaner, Finnley, quite an attractive girl despite her pooty face and superior, bossy ways.

    She vaguely remembered something a tutor at writing school had said to her once about writing sex scenes … what was his name? Emonel … no that was not quite right … Meenol! That was it!

    Make your writing detailed, with accurate depiction of suction noises

    Elizabeth broke into fits of laughter, slamming her fist on the desk gleefully and startling Robert X. (Unfortunately the fainting Mongoats had been banned from the building by that nasty Mr Arak)

    You know Robbie-pooh what is wrong with this?

    Robbie-Pooh, Robbie-Pooh, cackled Robert X.

    IT’S BOORING, The damn characters never do anything. Right well, time to fix that. She took another few slugs of her wine.

    :fleuron:

    Oh God, said Agent Gabriele. Who gives a shit about the Doctor or bloody magpies. I can’t stand this any longer. I must have you Agent V. He lunged towards her, ripping open her robe and exposing her naked body.

    You are so beautiful. All I ever wanted is you. That’s why I demanded this assignment on the Island … to see you again. I have not been able to get you out of my head. You’ve been driving me crazy

    NO NO, cried Veranassessee weakly, but her body said YES YES

    YES!

    Agent Gabriele kissed her on the mouth, making strange and passionate slurping noises, and, unable to resist any longer, she gave in to his need for her.

    ( Yes, Yes, YES! snorted Elizabeth, momentarily unable to write for laughing. Hooommm what about that Mahiliki? He was pathootic. Did he want the girl or not for God’s sake? )

    :fleuron:

    Mahiliki stared anxiously out at the storm. He could think of nothing but his darling Veranassessee. He must know if she was alright. He must go to her. He grabbed his car keys and drove like a madman to the airport.

    ( Hoommm, thought Elizabeth, I really don’t know anything about small island airports and planes. Well booger that, I will research them later on the internoot )

    You must fly me to Tifijikoo Island! demanded Mahiliki, holding the pilot (who had been sitting out the storm in a little airport building thingy ) at knifepoint.

    Are you mad? said the pilot. There’s a freakin cyclone, or hadn’t you noticed?

    Yes, I am mad, I am mad with love. Fly me there or you are a dead man.

    :fleuron:

    ahahahaahah, laughed Elizabeth happily.

    May 14, 2008 at 10:26 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #878

    Old Narani is becoming too soft.
    While the attraction of the hole was intensely beckoning, Phurt had been appointed by a strange twist of fate to the guard of the prisoners by the Old Mother.

    Bugger Narani whisspered Phurt, why not just kill them, these stupid two-legged animals. Why the pain of keeping them alive? Good thing the daily dose of sedative venom had them quiet now. They would only scare the mooing preys. Stupid, stupid.
    Of course, it would be easy to just sink a little more than usual her sharp tooth into their neck so fragile. A regrettable accident…
    Phurt couldn’t help but smile a grin as wide as her hairy eight-eyed face. But she wasn’t known as the Doctor of Breath for nothing. Her mere breath could be as sweet as a jasmine scent or terribly deadly. She had never missed a target, never could have.
    She was no mere Spinner; how could the Mother have put her to such a slighting task. Degrading. For her, the most promising Hunter of her generation to be doing this while they all were securing the hole perimeter.

    She would have to go. Something was nudging her to move, something like a fluid water sound, that whispered that nothing could happen to those prisoners. No one would be fool enough to dare to enter the Nest.
    Ahaha, why would she care? Nobody would know. And the little ones would alert her in any case.

    With a prodigious jump, she sprung to the forest in the direction of the hole. She couldn’t be denied her destiny.

    :fleuron:

    Is it gone now? a voice whispered under a pile of giant ferns
    I think it is growled Araili’s voice Thanks to the Snoot’s power of suggestion, I suppose… The Snoot might find spiders eggs delicacy enough to help us in our rescue operation.
    Shall we go there now? Kay? Ready to go and report back if everything’s clear?
    Ready.

    :fleuron:

    Rafaela was not finding it very difficult to jump on the rocky slopes. It was only difficult for her to remember to stay physically focused so that Anita wouldn’t fall to a certain death. And of course, even more difficult to resist to the attraction of nibbling a few crunchy thistles and brambles that grew here and there.
    But Yuki’s attention was here to remind her, and so far, their progression had been smooth and easy.

    But all of a sudden, the small pink nose of Yuki raised in quicker spasms sniffing the air intently.
    What? What? asked Rafaela who almost forgot her focusing. What?! Did I fart or something?

    Anu who was having the time of her life jumping on the coarse back of the goat giggled at her clueless question.

    — I think the spiders are moving too. We’ll be reaching the hole before them, and the Snoot tells me they won’t be moving close to it. But they won’t let anything or anyone get out of it. Let’s hope dear Armelle will spot a path for our friends.
    — Not to worry, Rafaela said matter-of-factly, Army is good at spoohtting. She’s the best I know at that.
    — OK, let’s move on…

    :fleuron:

    Claude was finally seeing a pinhole of light, at a close distance. He could just continue to crawl out his way to the light, and he would soon be release. And to cheer him up, he reminded himself that no man nor beast he feared, with his phenomenal strength agility and speed he now had. Too bad he didn’t have any time to get a proper super-hero attire he smiled to himself.

    :fleuron:

    On Tikfijikoo, the Magpie’s energy maze-cloak was now lift. The fury of the cyclone was now in its full power, and the Magpies were starting their swift deployment.
    The item was left unguarded in the operation room, as far as they could tell, and in the chaos of the elements, surely a few magpies would be unnoticed.

    They had to move quick now. The portal would be opened soon too. They couldn’t come back without bringing “it” back with them.

    May 17, 2008 at 2:19 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #889

    Wow that had been bizarre! Veranassessee stood at the bathroom basin and splashed icy cold, reviving water on her face. She knew she’d had sex with Agent Gabriele … however the experience had a slightly surreal quality, not unlike a dream, details slipping elusively away from her as she tried to grasp hold of them. She giggled nervously as she dried her face with a towel. Did she really want to remember? She had just passed Agent Gabriele in the corridor and he had winked at her, saying he couldn’t wait to try the ‘reverse cleaning maid ‘ again. A sudden image came to mind and she saw her skin darken in the mirror as a hot wave of embarrassment flooded her. Good Grief! She thought guiltily of Mahiliki. She hoped the other island had not been too badly affected by cyclone Ycart, so far it seemed Tifikijoo had come off quite lightly.

    Veranassessee had already checked on the guests, Jose Maria and Paquita were still in their room, Mavis was huddled under her bedding and informed her in a muffled voice that Sha and Glor had gone looking for her.

    :fleuron:

    Well she’s not in her bloody room so where is she eh? Gloria and Sha were on the warpath, determined to get some answers from Veranassessee.

    ‘Ere, Sha! Bloody hell! Glor shook her head in disbelief.

    What’s up Glor?

    Bloody magpies … there are bloody magpies in ‘ere!

    What! Nasty little buggers those magpies. Poke yer bloody eyes out if yer aint careful.

    ‘Ere what they up to eh? Bloody hopping all over that whats-a-ma-callit-doo-dacky machine.

    They’ll be going for the shiny bits I reckon. They do that those magpies. ‘Ere we’d better stop them, might never get our bloody beauty treatments if they bugger that machine up.

    June 13, 2008 at 11:44 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #930

    Tikfijikoo was in sight, washed by strong winds and pouring rain.
    Hopefully, the major part of cyclone Ycart has passed.
    A faint smile briefly illuminated Mahiliki’s face at the thought of soon being reunited with his love.

    July 2, 2008 at 11:25 am in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #970

    When Veranassessee entered the room, looking for the guests, she was startled to discover the awful mess.

    At first, she thought the cyclone Ycart may have been doing the wreckage, but soon she found out that no wall was gone, so it was obviously coming from inside the facility.

    What the…

    The super-calculator computer had been torn apart, and the electronic insides spread out everywhere.
    The Confregration would be furious that all was left of their precious asset they entrusted the mad (mmm, mentally challenged) doctor to carry out his insane (err… unusual) experiments was a big pile of unworkable chunks.
    She was thinking of how she could cover up that mess… given that the doctor was still probably reeling in frilly suspenders and silky dresses, she had time to clean up a bit. The Doc would probably won’t notice a difference, as megalomaniac as he was, he wouldn’t admit that a great part of his strides in his researches on spider genome were coming from the super-calculator…
    That nose of a b… nurse Bellamy was probably cleaning up his drool, so she might have enough time to act.

    Pushing aside a few coconuts, Veranassessee backed away suddenly…

    A trail of purple blood now?

    September 21, 2009 at 11:32 pm in Reply To: The Eights’ Shift, Stories #2338

    Though the more Ann thought about Monica, the funnier it seemed. Guilt was such a tiresome emotion.

    “Fancy old Bronkel deciding to go for a sex change! I must have sensed something when I wrote him in as the crazy, brilliant, cross dressing Dr Bronkelhampton in the Island novel!”

    She thought for a moment, “did I ever finish that novel?”

    Ann sighed. What was she like eh! Always starting novels, never finishing them. No wonder old Bronkel, ahem, Monica, got so fed up with her.

    Anyway, perhaps she would give Monica another chance as her pooblisher? He … she… was certainly much kinder and easier to deal with now. That Godfrey, or whatever the heck his name is, wasn’t doing much for her career.

    The writer wondered again how to strike out text and correct the inadvertent slip into the Ooh dimension.

    An idea for another novel was forming in the murky convoluted depths of Ann’s brain, something about a gorgeously cuddly big teddy bear man, with his unruly tumble of brown curls and his colourful FairIsle sweaters, who had flown the nest from a potato farm in deepest darkest Idaho to pursue his dream of being an Elsespace Guide at the Worserversity.

    “Brilliant, Moonica will loove it!”

    June 6, 2009 at 11:55 pm in Reply To: Strings of Nines #2607

    It all came as a surprise to them. At first, they didn’t want to believe the “others” telling them they were dead. Glor went there first, then Shar shortly after. Apparently some side effects of the beauty treatments they’d taken during their trip in the mysterious island of Tikfijikoo.
    :ghost: :ghost: They started to believe it when they witnessed their own burial ceremonies. Was a bit strange at first, but soon they couldn’t help but gossip about their friends outfits and hairdos. Then all of a sudden, it was funny! They could go anywhere in the blink of an eye, spy on everyone, and get a good laugh together —and not with just any bloody disincarnate ascended being.

    Shar?
    — What Glor?
    — What we’re going to do now?
    — I think whatever they said about it, I quite liked the island. Perhaps we can pop-in there, have a good party with lemurs, especially now that everybody’s been deserting it.
    — Oh yes, and let’s get find that doctor, scare him outta his wits force him make beauty treatments for us!
    — Now that’s talking lady! :yahoo_skull:

    December 11, 2009 at 2:01 pm in Reply To: Strings of Nines #2649
    Jib
    Participant

      Patricia M wondered… why would she have received a box of leeks? And the smell was not very pleasant after one week in the box, in the post company facilities or in the transportations. There was a card in the box with the leeks, almost disintegrated with the juice. There should have been something written on it as Patricia could still see ink traces, but it was all blurred and blended with the paper. Nice color though, a beautiful purple.

      “Where the devil is everyone?”

      Miss Bossy Pants looked around the empty office with a mixture of disappointment and confusion. She had been anticipating the surprised looks on her colleagues’ faces at her unannounced return —she had no illusions about her popularity and knew better than to expect a joyous reunion—but the room was disconcertingly empty.

      Hearing the door behind her, she spun around in relief. It was the new guy, Prout, carrying a brown paper bag and a take out coffee.

      “Hello!” he said, hoping he did not sound as awkward as he felt and wondering if he could back out the door again. He had only met Bossy a couple of times and found her bluntness disconcerting. Terrifying, even. There was no reply, so, taking a sip of his steaming coffee, he bravely persevered.

      “Welcome back. How are you feeling?”

      “Are you the only one here? Where is everyone?” snapped Bossy Pants.

      Ricardo took a deep breath and focused on a wilted pot plant on the window ledge.

      God, I hope I don’t start rambling.

      Connie and the temp, Sophie, went to Iceland … something about following a lead from Santa Claus and I’ve not heard from them since. And Hilda … I don’t know where Hilda went to be honest. She emailed me a few days ago wanting to know what to feed Orangutans.”

      Bossy had paled. She seemed to shudder slightly and put out a hand to steady herself on a nearby desk.

      “They eat mostly fruit,” he continued, “but other stuff too of course. Insects and flowers and stuff like that. Honey I think, if they can find it I guess, and bark. And leaves. Mostly fruit though.”

      That’s probably enough about the Orangutans. She is clearly not into it.

      “I got a bit held up actually; there is a young boy outside drawing maps. Quite young … youngish. I am not sure how old really but he was little.They are bloody good too—there is quite a crowd out there watching him draw.”

      “Iceland,” whispered Bossy, her face a deathly white colour.

      “Yeah, Iceland. Keflavik … Miss Bossy, are you sure you are well enough to be back? You don’t look so good. I mean, you look good … attractive of course … I don’t mean you look bad or anything but you do look sort of pale. Are you okay?”

      “Santa Claus.” Bossy sat down slowly.

      “Yeah … I know, a bit crazy, right? They seemed to think it was a really hot lead.”

      “Stupid idiots; the lead wasn’t from Santa Claus— I will bet my life that it was from that depraved scoundrel, Dr Bronkelhampton! I heard through the grapevine he had gone to Iceland with a new identity after the Island fiasco destroyed his reputation—we covered the story at the time and it was huge—and now he is clearly after revenge. Dear God, what have they got themselves into?”

      “Thanks,” said Bossy taking her cup of tea.

      “So, tell me more about this evil fruit-loop doctor,” said Ricardo with an encouraging smile.

      Bossy looked intently at him. “It’s no joke,” she admonished him sharply.

      “Oh, no. No, of course not. I mean, yeah, I really want to know. It all sounds very … intriguing. And sort of creepy, to be honest. But definitely not a joke.”

      Bossy relented and gestured imperatively for Ricardo to be seated.

      The doctor could best be described as a mad genius. He believed he had found the answer to looking eternally youthful but didn’t want to go through the time and expense of clinical trials through the normal channels. So he set up a testing laboratory on a small and relatively unknown Pacific Island. Tifikijoo, I believe it was called.”

      “Uh huh. Actually I do vaguely remember something about that story.”

      “We got the story first,” Bossie said proudly, “but there was a media ban on publishing some of the information, unfortunately. The Doctor managed to get funding for his tests through an undercover organisation whose hidden agenda was to hide an ancient crystal skull while at the same time providing them with a facility where they could continue their own secret testing into spider genomes. I can’t tell you too much about that — it was all hush hush. So, you wouldn’t have read about that in the news, I bet,” she added with a smug smile.

      “Uh, no,” answered Ricardo, privately wondering if Bossy was the mad one. It was all starting to feel a bit surreal to him.

      “Did the doctor know about the skull stuff?”

      “No, the doctor was genuinely only interested in preserving beauty. Unfortunately, to this end, he killed one of his first guinea pigs. And tried to disguise his crime by mummifying the body. That’s when it all began to implode on him.”

      “What happened to him?”

      “He had some good lawyers and was found not competent to stand trial on the grounds of insanity. And the fact that all his clients had signed liability waivers helped a bit. He was sent to a high security psychiatric institution but managed to escape by reverting to his female identity—he was transsexual—and hiding in a laundry trolley.

      The doctor hated the way he was portrayed in the media and most of his venom was focused on our people. We had a guy working with us then, John Smith, and he covered the story with Connie. They got the brunt of the hate emails. John nearly had a nervous breakdown with the stress of it and moved to the country. Pity, he was a good writer.”

      “So what makes you think Santa Claus and the doctor are one and the same?”

      “Call it a very strong hunch. The Doctor was born in Iceland and had strong family ties there. And now I fear he has lured Connie and Sophie there in order to exact his evil revenge!”

      “Well, hello there! My name is Barbara, I will be your host during your stay at the Hidden People Estate of Genethic Rejuvenation. Welcome Ms and Mr Asparagus !”

      Barbara’s luscious mane of blond hair was a sight to behold. Tina was almost jealous. She quickly remembered her guru’s words of the day.

      “ Dogs bark at what they don’t understand: See the Positive

      So despite her hopes for a less effusive (almost annoyingly American) introductions, she got her critical mind busy with quickly finding five things to appreciate about Barbara. It was tougher that it looked. Well, for one, she liked the cleanliness of her white nurse blouse…

      Barbara’s chatter seemed inexhaustible, as they coursed through the grounds of the Estate.
      “Of course, we have arranged for your appointment with the best doctors, they will get you in tip-top shape in no time” she giggled irrepressibly.

      Tina glanced at Quentin. Her cousin was calm as a clam, as usual. He didn’t even seem to register the strangeness of that establishment.

      “I’ll be leaving you to have a hot shower, and refreshments, complimentary of the house of course, and I’ll be meeting you later. Dinner will be served at 7, please be on time. Tomorrow morning, breakfast is served from 7 to 9, and your appointment is at 9:30, with Dr B. In case you need anything, you have my number.” Barbara giggled again, blinking at Quentin in what could hardly be construed as flirting.

      “I’ll skip dinner Q, see you at breakfast tomorrow”, Tina closed the door on her cousin without ceremony.

      She finally collapsed on the bed, crushed by fatigue of the flight, jet-lag and all that road trip through small European winding paths. Made you almost miss Maine.

      Barbara was glad to be done with the last guest tour. She still had the orangutans to feed before her day was done.

      “Hello darlings” she said to the caged beasts that looked eerily human. “Care for some fruits? Today’s coconut on the menu. Coconut oil is good for your hair.”

      Her intercom started to buzz. The last patient in the observation ward seemed to have failed the treatment. Another one. Her attention was needed.

      “Don’t worry, my little hairy friends. You may soon have some new friends…” She winked at the apes before closing the door.

      Barbara!” the Dr called her assistant early in the morning.
      “There has been a breakthrough! I have tested version 2.2.1 of my new organic substrate, and it shows promising results.”

      Barbara giggled “Well of course, Doctor. Shall we test it right away on your new patients of this morning appointment?”

      “That’s tempting. I am not usually one to push for caution when science progress is called for, but… maybe, this time, not just now. There are still a few DNA kinks to work out for the solution to be perfect. We’ll see how our last subject reacts in the next days.”

      “This Yannosh!” Quentin erupted when he saw the packed up mess in his suitcase.

      “How can this guy always muddy up the simplest things! I wonder why Tina likes him so much.” He eyed the suitcase and seeing the neatly packed shirts and trousers, he finally laughed at his outburst.
      “Yeah, that explains it!”

      He picked the first clothes out of the pile, and got out of the room to find the breakfast.

      The air was still a bit chilly in the morning, and the grounds seemed almost deserted. He wondered were the rest of the staff was. It was supposed to be a luxury resort, and beside the eccentric Barbara with her beehive hairdo, he had not yet seen many people.

      “Well, no bloody wonder it’s called the Hidden People Spa! Nobody’s up yet or what?” Quentin turned at the familiar voice.
      “You look in great spirits this morning dear” he greeted Tina “How was your night’s sleep?”
      “Can we skip the formalities Q, I’m already bored. Let’s have a tartine of rúgbrauð at the Þorramatur, shall we? I’m famished.”

      “Doctor, doctor, I think we’ve located our escaped test subject.” Barbara gleamed at the Doctor, showing her a bit of newspaper.

      “Not that rag again!” he grumbled “You should know how I hate that piece of rubbish.”

      “Well, they make for entertaining rea…” She quickly swallowed her last words, seeing the mad look in the Doctor’s eyes. “… they make for interesting findings… sometimes…” she pursued more vehemently, “such as this one! Look! The Hairy Trenchcoat Ape Sightings by our special extreme reporter in … well sorry, I can’t read that location’s name, it looks so hopelessly from the British Isles…”

      “Well, we will soon see if this is contagious now, shan’t we?” The Doctor said with an evil glee.

      “Be as it may,” the Doctor continued “how are our new guests doing so far on the rejuvenating cure?”

      “Oh well, they’re curing alright.” Barbara said matter-of-factly.

      The sixth finger on Barbara’s left hand looked quite odd, but it was a nice recent addition from the Doctor. She looked at it while the Magpies were slowly awakening. A bleak bipping sound was all there was indicating the average pulse of the seven spies.
      The Doctor, poor man, seemed to have had some difficulties recently to remember her name and also that she was a woman. Since a few weeks, in order not to startle him when she entered the new lab, she had had to get rid of her beehive hairdo, but she had kept it in a secret vault in her bedroom and every evening she took it out and brushed it and put it on her head to remind her.

      She had been quite dedicated to the Doctor and had stayed despite the last mess at the Hidden Spa. She spent an awful lot of time erasing all the links and comments that could lead to them, hence such an empty thread. It was all her doing, Barbara’s, and she could do that because of her new left pinkie in which she had an electronic key controlling all the machines and the lab’s security network. And it was connected to the Internet.

      The bipping sound was accelerating signalling to her that they were close to awakening. She was going to call the Doctor, he had said that he had to be there when they opened their eyes because he must be the one on whom they imprinted. Like birds you know. He would be like their mother and they would obey him. She turned on the comlink and called him.

      “What?”
      “It’s Barb, Doctor.”
      “Who?”
      “Your assistant.”
      “Oh. Why are you disturbing me in my Jacuzzi?”
      “They are awakening.”
      “Who?”
      “The Magpies.”
      “Oh. I’m coming.”

      But there was no more time.
      The pods were open and the seven Magpies were looking at her.

      “No! No!” said the Doctor who entered at that moment. “What have you done!?”

      The vibration of the phone on the table made Barbara jump and she almost deleted her report. Her heart was racing at the thought of erasing what took her an hour to write. She reminded herself to breath like she had learned during her hot yoga class the previous week. It quieted her heart a little and she checked her hair out of habit and winced when she felt the short haircut. She checked her phone.

      “Wonderful!” she said readjusting her glasses. A new acquisition, big and cat eye like, the brim covered with colourful strass. She couldn’t resist.
      She got up from her desk and adjusted her skirt with her six fingers hand. She went to the Doctor’s office and knocked three times on the door. A sleepy voice, a tad angry, asked from the other side: “What?”

      “It’s Barbara. Our undercover agent sent me a confirmation that the Dreamcatcher operation is a success. Subject zero has been activated unaware that you are manipulating her dreams.”

      Barbara’s office was dead silent apart from the regular bips of the machines. The whiteness of the painted walls made it feel like a psych ward. She shivered away the memories that were trying to catch her attention.

      It’s been two hours since the Doctor had locked himself up in his rage-release room, a spacious soundproofed room with padded walls. Not even a small window to look inside and check if his anger had subsided. Barbara clearly preferred the trauma of the shouts and cries and the broken plates that were hidden here and there for him to use when he needed most. But when he started his therapy with the AI psych module, the damn bot suggested he built that room in order to release his rage in a more intimate framework.
      Now the plates collected dust and the sessions in the room tended to last longer and longer.

      Today’s burst of rage had been triggered by the unexpected gathering of the guests at the Inn. The Doctor was drinking his columbian cocoa, a blend of melted dark chocolate with cheddar cheese, when the old hag in that bloody gabardine started her speech. The camera hidden in the eye of the fish by their agent, gave them a fisheye view of the room. It was very practical and they could see everything. The AI engineer module could recreate a 3D view of the room and anticipate the moves of all the attendees.

      When that girl with the fishnet handed out the keys for all to see and the other girl got the doll out, the Doctor had his attention hyper-focused. He wanted to see it all.
      Except there had been a glitch and images of granola cookies superimposed on the items.

      “Send the magpies to retrieve the items,” he said, nervousness making his voice louder.
      “Ahem,” had answered Barbara.
      “What?” The Doctor turned towards her. His eye twitched when he expected the worst, and it had been twitching fast.
      She had been trying to hide the fact that the magpies had been distracted lately, as she had clearly been herself since she had found that goldminer game on facebush.
      No need to delay the inevitable, she had thought. “The magpies are not in the immediate vicinity of the Inn.” In fact, just as their imprinting mother was busy digging digital gold during her work time, the magpies had found a new vein of gold while going to the Inn and Barbara had thought it could be a nice addition to her meager salary… to make ends meet at the end of the month.

      It obviously wasn’t the right time to do so. And she was worried about the Doctor now.

      To trump her anxiety, she was surfing the internet. Too guilty to play the gold miner, she was looking around for solutions to her boss’s stress. The variety and abundance of advertisement was deafening her eyes, and somewhere in a gold mine she was sure the magpies were going berserk too. She had to find a solution quickly.

      Barbara hesitated to ask the AI. But there were obviously too many solutions to choose from. Her phone buzzed. It was her mother.
      “I finally found the white jade masks. Bought one for you 2. It helps chase the mental stress away. You clearly need it.” Her mother had joined a picture of her wearing the mask on top of a beauty mask which gave her the look of a mummy. Her mother was too much into the woowoo stuffs and Barbara was about to send her a polite but firm no she didn’t want the mask. But the door of the rage-room opened and the Doctor went out. He had such a blissful look on his face. It was unnatural. Barbara had been suspecting the AI to brainwash the Doctor with subliminal messages during those therapy sessions. Maybe it also happened in the rage-room. The AI was using tech to control the Doctor. Barbara would use some other means to win him back.

      OK. SEND IT TO ME QUICK. she sent to her mother.

      September 6, 2019 at 1:33 pm in Reply To: Newsreel from the Rim of the Realm #4792

      The Doctor was at times confused about his own plan. Well, most of the time if felt clear and perfectly diabolical, and he could easily understand why at times lesser minds could get confused about the twists and turns —and to those lesser minds, it would usually suffice to say “don’t worry, it’s all part of the Plan.” It was difficult to properly phrase the sentence so that the Plan doesn’t get too easily confused with any plan. But he was expert in conveying that it wasn’t a mere plan.

      After having tried and used old or elaborate devices beyond known technology like alleged alien crystal skulls to outcomes of various satisfaction in the past, he’d realized that those so called AI technologies were a silent gangrene for the mind. By becoming more tech-savvy, people lost their savoir and their savour by relying too much on external support. People were becoming malleable, predictable, and replaceable.

      His bloody assistant was a sad testament to the downward evolution humanity was rushing towards. It was a strange and sad irony, that by enhancing their ineptitude, he was actually working to the perfection of the human race.

      “Ah yes! Evolution!” That was his legacy, and he was of course profoundly misunderstood.

      This whole sad business with the chase after the dolls and the keys and the remote control of magpies, and the psychic blasts, beauty treatments and Barbara enhancements, all that made sense once you showed it in the proper light. These were the catalyst to the real and interesting events. The ones which mattered.

      It all started after the Army got him out of his prison rot in exchange for his work on some special science experiments. Top-secret, evidently. His handler, a certain nobody by the name of Fergus, was assigning him the experiments.
      While he was dutifully working on his assigned projects, he quickly realized that he was given vast funding which would have taken him more time to gather on his own, so he did his part, all while experimenting and honing his skills. Clearly, the Army lacked any vision beyond the confines of “find a better way to torture, maim or kill mass amount of individuals.” Primates. Luckily, their experiments with remote control, brainwashing, and body modelage were less gory than the average science experiments, and far more into his own area of expertise.

      It took him 5 years to escape. This plan (a smaller plan, part of the Plan which had not yet fully hatched at the time) — this plan for an escape started to form when Fergus let slip important bits of information, which seemed insignificant taken in isolation, but meant a whole new area of discoveries when put together by a brilliant mind like his own.
      Fergus started to gloat about securing some secrets as a blackmail or fail-safe policy in case the Army’s “hired help” misbehaved. This part was known for a long time, it was what was called our ‘retirement plan’ in the contract we signed. What was more peculiar was when he started to let details slip about the method. All thanks to little doses of hypnotic potion in spiked shared drinks, courtesy of the Doctor. It seemed clear that this elaborate scheming of keys and dolls was child’s play and nothing particularly genius, however what was more interesting was when Fergus started to realize that the dolls his niece had made somehow matched certain persons of interest without her conscious knowing. There was a deeper mystery to be cracked, and even Fergus wondered if the Army had not tempered with his family genetics to induce certain characteristics or something of the like. Well, all ramblings of a simpleton you would say, but maybe it wasn’t.
      After all these searches to externalize certain abilities of the mind, the Doctor was starting to get fascinated by people exhibiting these qualities naturally.

      The appearance of this strange red crystal seems to confirm these doubts. There are untapped forces at play, and maybe doors that could be opened.

      Barbara suddenly irrupted into the room “Our guests are coming, just received a text!”

      The Doctor sighed thinking some doors should remain closed.

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