📚 › Time-travelling Fin Whales

So the Story goes...

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  • in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #418

    She was swimming swiftly in the cold water of the frozen zone. Baaneke was quite young by her people standards. She was also quite adventurous though inexperienced. Very curious about the beings of the other side, those who had chosen to dwell on the dry parts of this world. She was quite amused at their clumsiness whenever they fell in the ocean.

    She was aware of her flock in the distance. The clarity of the water, its coldness made the clicks and the clacks even sharper. Their language had many subtleties and it was fluctuating with the vibrational quality of the waters in which they were generated. The further you were from the source, the more distorted it could be. Though it was quite precise and with some experience it was easy to focus on the energy and not the translation into sounds. But Baaneke wasn’t so easy peasy with this focus.

    Her long body was rather slim and her color was smorgle barnished sand. She was very proud of it, and found herself quite attractive. The young male were often brömding at her… a bit rude, but she was feeling a huge satisfaction :yahoo_blushing:

    She’d been following the strange floating structures for a few days now. The ancients called them : “sshiieap”.
    She was fascinated by the beings on it… they were so awkward and it seemed to her they took great care of not diving into the waters… How odd of them, it was so easy moving in there, more easy than outside where it was so dry and windy.

    She was aware of some signal in one of the shiieap, and she was curious about it. It was quite familiar to her.

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #505

    Sirielle looked through the crystalline window.

    A humpback whale was passing by. Sirielle loved the song of the whales. Gorgean whales like this one were males, singing all during the rut to attract females miles away. Every season they would keep most of the same music, adding variations at times to the melody. This one was a sly one, Sirielle could tell. With its beautiful purulent budgeonic spots on its back, it was an old mighty male whale that she had seen already the past seasons, but its song had changed ever so slightly. It had probably plagiarized some of the most successful songs from other whales to become more attractive and that would make him a bit over the top.
    At least, the females had a good parade for such insistent huge males, they could just put themselves upside down, close to the surface, so that the indelicate male could not have access to the holy of holies.
    Sirielle felt so close to the whales.

    Today, she had noticed the first changes on her body. She was growing gills, and soon would be able to breathe underwater. She was already a proficient swimmer, from a young age, as her hands and feet had grown swimfins. But the most interesting modification wouldn’t occur before a certain age.
    When she had entered the room of Crystals, she had been a bit disappointed. She had expected some great ceremony with old wizened long-bearded robed priests to operate the crystals, but there had been only a young man not much older than herself, and a distracted middle-aged woman.
    The Crystals had the ability to beam some specially focused light and provoke realignment of the patterns of the body. It was like the vibration carried by the light and enhanced by the crystal would be modifying the vibrational quality of her organism, and make it change itself quite naturally from the inside.

    She couldn’t wait to go out in the oceanic depths and test her newly grown organs to swim with the huge cetacean.

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #665

    Fine weather in Hawaii , he thought after the plane had landed at the Honolulu International Airport. He’d been offered an Orchid lei but didn’t really pay attention to it, almost discard it. Who had given it to him. He had no idea. Though the flowers were real now, and the smell was quite pleasant.

    A man was waiting for him outside of the airport. Japanese breed.

    Mr Langlade? My name is Isashi Mamoru. Aunt Alana was expecting you this morning.

    Robert Langlade wasn’t here to apologize. She was the reason of his presence here, well what she possessed actually. The sooner he would meet her, the sooner he could continue his quest.

    He got in the red car, and waited for the man to close the door.


    Harry was looking at his daughter walking on the beach with her new friend. She’d lived with her mother in Arizona since she was born and she was only visiting him on holidays… when she had time. She had a western style and he wouldn’t have changed her, it was her choice. He’d wanted to change his own when he was her age, more trouble than he had expected. But it was another life, it was another Harry. He was not from Hawaii himself though he was born here. His family was originating from Korea. His path had moved him away from them for many years. He eventually came back, but he was different now.

    This evening he was feeling melancholy. 58 years old. What was the purpose of his choices?
    His daughter that he called Makana, seemed happy with her friend. She’d told him she’d met him at a conference in Boston last December. But he was not very present to his perception. Though he respected her choices again.

    Alana had told him about an old friend of his. She’d warned him. He was there to take something sacred. She had fear in her eyes.


    Narsila was swimming swiftly, following the direction of the calling. She knew others of her kind had heard the signal and were heading toward its origin. It was one of these emerging rocks where the humans had chosen to live.

    The call was not directly connected with them though. It had been activated from another dream.

    in Reply To: Circle of Eights, Stories #1025

    Narsila was very close now, she was feeling more of her kind around, exchanging impressions and information about the area and the activities there. The storm was approaching and the humans were sheltering before its arrival.
    It was clear now that the storm was not of the usual kind. It was connected with a portal, and some in her group where creating a pyramidal action to facilitate its emergence. The sooner it will open, the softer the energy would be felt. If they waited too long, the portal could be more persistent, and it wasn’t desirable.

    in Reply To: Strings of Nines #2666

    Robin Peter was handing out yellow sou’westers on the street corner. The Rain of Terra was just about to commence.

    :weather-showers-scattered: :weather-showers-scattered: :weather-showers-scattered: :weather-showers-scattered:

    in Reply To: Strings of Nines #2667

    Robin Peter’s wife, Felicity, was handing out sample bottles of shampoo on the opposite street corner. Felicity knew that fresh rain water was marvellous for the hair, and often wondered why so many people went to such extraordinary lengths to keep their hair covered during the rain. They ran across roads in front of traffic, and dashed hither and yon, tiptoeing through puddles, racing home to their houses and flats, and then went straight into the shower to get themselves wet ~ after they accidentally got themselves wet outside.

    “There’s nowt so queer as folk,” as Felicity’s Granny always used to say.


    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.”

    Although Basque whaling had been in decline for some years (which is not to say that whalebone basques had declined in popularity), the Santa Rosa whaling galleon had been patrolling the waters of the Bay of Biscay for almost 600 years, a ghost ship, navigated by the ghost of the last whale killed by her crew. Her name was Belen, although nobody knew that was her name. At the moment of her death she had had a premonition, a knowing of a far distant future when whales began the extraordinary pursuit of compiling lists of all their other lives. One in particular, Maria del Mar, a fin whale in the Gibraltar waters of the early part of the 21st century, had connected with her. Maria del Mar had a special interest in time travel, and urged Belen to occupy the ghost ship and keep it afloat as a practice portal for whale teleporting.

    The three maids waited in the balloon for most of the night, in increasing agitation. Mirabelle’s face was like thunder, imagining Igor ravishing the Breton wenches as they slept in their beds. As is often the case during a long tense wait in the black of night, the maids thoughts turned increasingly murderous, worry transposing to anger and thoughts of vengeance.
    The truth was that the Russians were having a great deal of difficulty finding any food. The peasants were starving and there was nothing to steal. Dreading returning to the balloon empty handed, they continued the fruitless search.
    Meanwhile Pseu was leisurely perusing ceramic tiles in the Locmaria quarter, unaware of the difficulties of the Russians.
    Eventually, the three men returned to the balloon, with nothing to show for their nights escapades. Mirabelle snorted derisively, resisting the urge to slap Igor.
    “It’s getting light” said Boris, “We really must leave now, food or no food. Let’s go!”
    The balloon rose just as the sun was casting a pinkish glow and the river mists were rising in ghostly wisps.


    Exhausted from lack of sleep, the occupants slept, taking turns to stay awake. Fanella was on the first watch, shivering and grumpy with hunger. Surreptitiously, she gobbled down a few foul tasting handfuls of lard. When it was Adeline’s turn to keep watch, she had a similar idea, and likewise swallowed some greasy globs of lard, thinking, as Fanella had done, that a few handfuls would not be missed. When the others took their turns on the watch, they also had similar ideas, erroneously assuming that nobody else had thought to do the same. By lunchtime, when they’d all had sufficient sleep, there was not a great deal of lard left. A dramatic and judgemental argument ensued with everyone accusing each other of monumental stupidity, but as Boris wisely pointed out, they were all equally to blame.
    “But we’re over the sea now, and we’re losing height!”
    Uh oh, said Pseu to herself. I can increase the wind speed to hurricane force, but that might be a bit too risky. Or I can allow the wind to resume it’s prevailing westerly course, but that wouldn’t help, they’d end up back where they came from and that would be catastrophic.
    “Perhaps I can help” whispered Belen telepathically. “If you think you can land the balloon on my decks.”
    It would be a tricky landing, but there was no other option. Quickly Pseu worked out the likely coordinates of the ultimate descent and beamed them to Belen.
    “The homing parrot will help” added Belen. “Follow the bird and adjust the wind direction accordingly.”

    Although there were many dolphins in the Bay of Biscay, there were none close enough to the drowning balloon travelers to help ~ not without teleporting. Six pink dolphins from the rivers of the Amazon jungle were the first to respond to Pseu’s call. The shapeshifting time traveling pink dolphins home base timeframe as it were, was the beginning of the 21st century ~ in this particular incident, 2020 to be precise. They were regular visitors to Maria del Mar’s home base time location in the Alboran Sea, between the Pillars of Hercules, and thus, they were familiar with the ghost of Belen and her affiliation with Maria del Mar.

    It was said long ago that the role of the parrot is that of opening communication centers. When this totem appears, one should look to see if one needs assistance in understanding views that are different from one’s own.
    Huhu didn’t care about any of these human assigned meanings to its existence.

    When the grip of Irina’s mind over Huhu the parrot was suddenly released, it found itself out of sight of the floating balloon and struggled to glide over the oceans’ air currents without losing too much altitude as well as precious degrees.

    The air was cold and the ocean had no end in sight, and if a parrot knew despair, Huhu would have succumbed to it already. But it was a brave parrot, as though inhabited by some divine spark, and it continued bravely, only guided by his senses.

    When it was about to faint from exhaustion, and dive dangerously close to the sea, was the precise moment when it noticed fumes swirling around in strange vortices erupting from the sea.
    A strange boat appeared at the surface with a shining light.

    Little did Huhu know, but it was the ghost galleon Santa Rosa which had a special thing for birds in distress, and would appear at times of need, a haven of luxuriant foliage and birds cackle, a benediction of safety in the turmoil of the seas.

    Nobody knew clearly when the galleon sunk, one of the last of his kinds in the Old Continent, probably around the early 1111s, but one thing was sure, it was a ghost ship long before Huhu was born and brought to Versailles in 1757.

    A ghostly form picked his soft body from the ground, delicately removing the key entangled on its foot, then placed the bird with great care on a bed of moss.

    We can go now Belen said the man to the whale captain of the ghost ship.
    Whale that! came the answer.

    The ghost captain of the Santa Rosa was an old Peaslander, Peter Pugh, otherwise known as Petit Pois on account of his vast girth. He’d had a fascination with whales all his life, admiring their immensity and smooth shapelessness, and had devoted his life to increasing his own blubber ~ unfortunately to the point where his legs failed to carry him further and he died, alone and frozen, on a cold winter Peasland beach. A particularly wild storm with immense waves had sucked him out to sea, taking most of the beach with him, but his spirit lived on, piloting the galleon for his ghostly lover, Belen. It was a match made in heaven ~ in their ghostly forms, they were vast but weightless, able to occupy the galleon fully, filling every nook and mossy cranny with their energetic formless bulk (but without sinking the ship or flattening the foliage).
    “Whale that!” he cried in response to Belen, excited to be teleporting to the balmy waters of the Pacific. The rough harsh climate of the Bay of Biscay reminded him of that cold winter in Peasland ~ he was looking forward to a tropical sojourn.
    “To the Big Island!” he shouted, and did a merry jig which caused a tsunami a few hours later on the Galician coast.

    Belen quickly found out there was something amiss in the usual navigational patterns from her tile guidance system.

    Her initial plotted course to jump from Bay of Biscay 1757 to Hawai’i 2222 was almost whale calf’s play. Relying on the tiles beacons, it was easy for her to hone to an intermediate time, at the same location, from where it would be easier to navigate the ghost whaling boat. 2222 customs clearance was always a bother, as soon as human had started to time-travel, they had put unnecessary barriers around some key timezones such as this one.

    Her favourite stopover was on the other side of Galicia on the Mediterranean coast del Sol 2020, but then…

    Peetee Pois as Peter was affectionately called by Belen was the first to notice the sails of Барк Крузенштерн, the Krusenshtern swollen by the wind, seconds before they came crashing onto it, launching all the birds in a massive flock around the town that the tall ship had just left (coincidentally with Igor on board as one of the newest recruits of the Russian sail training ship).


    Lisa was still arguing with Adeline in broken Spanglish when they noticed the flock of birds at the horizon.
    — Something’s happening on the beach, Lisa snapped, quick let’s go have a look.

    The search was for naught, the crystal conch had disappeared.
    Belen and Peetee were so busy getting the Santa Rosa back afloat, and out of sight of most of the humans around, that they had for a moment lost sight of it.
    During the crash, there was a moment of overlap in time and dimension that had created a bridge so to speak, and some of the sailors had found way on the old ghost whaler.
    Usually, they wouldn’t be able to go past the birds’ fierce guard, but most of them were in disarray, scavenging the nearby beach and distraught.
    Belen had quickly reorganized the tile patterns from the backup grid when she’d realized one from the usual one was dislodged, and in a flash, all the intruders were back were they belonged.

    After a week, most of the ghost birds and live ones that wished had rejoined the deck, the main damages were repaired with some blue light energy, and the Santa Rosa was moored near the village.

    “Without the conch, no tide” Peetee Pois said ominously. “We better remote-view its position, as I suspect someone may have taken it. And we’re still in 2020!”

    “Raining?! At this time of year?” cried Lisa in alarm. “I will have to rethink my packing now!”
    Using her telepathic skills, Lisa was pretty certain that Frank and Molly were in Lisbon ~ and that they had been the ones who had stolen the whale vomit tile. Packing her case quickly and booking a flight, she was almost ready to set off to track them down. She remote viewed them again before setting off, and spotted them on a bridge near the Belen Tower, slick with rain.
    Mirabelle, grab an umbrella, and get in the car. A change of scenery will do you good. No arguments!”
    What a bossy cow, thought Mirabelle, and they call ME a bossy tart!

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

    “Yes, I could be able to plot a new course, without doubt, even with that tile missing” Belen said to one of the dolphins of the neighbourhood who had come for an update on the stranded ghost galleon.

    I was weeks of Simultaneous Time, and being stranded was particularly difficult for a Conscious Breather such as Belen, even if the ghost whale now didn’t really need to breathe, the force of habit was strong.

    Peter, his usual jovial self had said nothing, and had merely enjoyed some forays inland, looking for the tile and the conch, occasionally bringing news from the strange neighbours of the nearby village.

    In the end, Belen couldn’t really remember who was who in the strange tales he made of it, there were so many humans involved and truly, their earthly concerns weren’t relevant to hers, and there was only little they could do to help with the situation.

    The Harmonium Convergence was about to start, the crystalline aquatic organs would start to play the tunes for the new dreams of the new era to be sung.
    And yet, the so-called magical conch was still missing. Belen dreaded coming back ashamed to the Youngers without the ancient divination tool. Frankly, it was more of a permission slip, as her orca friend Batshatsassani called it. She would say to her that “every modality, every ritual, every tool, every technique is a permission slip that allows yourself to give you permission to be more of who you are.”
    She knew she didn’t need it really, but she liked the rituals of old, and to be honest was a bit fearful of not only revealing they were not that important, but more, introducing new ones… Would the whale and whole cetacean family be ready for such an end to the religious era?

    While she was struggling with the thoughts, she managed to guard them from the psychic prying of her dolphin friend, by misleading him on meanders of the endless memory halls that she was guardian of.

    Peter suddenly appeared with a popping sound. “I think I found the conch!” he exclaimed with glee in his eyes. “Yes, it’s Igor, you know Igor…”
    “What about Igor, darling, you know I lost complete track of all these landers strange names”
    “He’s the guy who stole the…” Peter stopped realizing this wasn’t really a question about Igor. “The conch, he brought it back with him!”

    Then to his and her own surprise, Belen replied
    “Forget about the conch, darling, I’m sorry I’ve led you to believe it was important, but it’s not, not really. It’s just a ordinary object to lead the philistines astray. It’s not more powerful than the whiffling of a shillelagh. The true treasure is always within ourselves.
    Gather the birds, and let us prepare to leave in the next hour, the Harmonium Convergence is about to start in 2222, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

    Baffled by the revelation, Peter knew enough to not contradict his whale partner, and went merrily with the new flow which seemed so full of excitement and potential new science revelations.

    Belen had a thought “Actually Peter my dear, any other conch we can find will do just as well. Just pick one on the beach before we leave. Dipping it in the Time stream will crystallize it just as well.”

    Peter replied excitedly “Whale that. Let’s spanghew that boat to 2222!”

    Just as a thought of love for the gift of such inner revelation, before she left the nice spot of the Spanish coast, Belen cleared her throat and :yahoo_sick: retched the most lovely green scented blob of ambergris on the beach, next to the spiral made of broken white shells that some drifters had drawn on the beach a few days ago.

    Gliding through layers of consciousness, Belen carried her precious cargo of the Santa Maria and its birds towards her destination.
    There were various variations of the same 2222, and she carefully adjusted the course along the 202 years gap, so as to swim to her favourite version of it. It required much love work on her part, addressing, piecing and peacing off many parts of human consciousness, while at the same time tenderly caring for the memories stored with her immense ghost body.
    The 2020 version they had just left, she knew, was already on the proper track towards global enlightenment. There were still horrors, concerns and anxiety about the course of the future, but with a greater perspective, it looked like the positive actions were gaining momentum and leaning towards a brighter fuller and richer future.

    She could feel the Contact Crystal pulsate steadily and it opened her blowhole chakra. Blowing her mind, as it were.

    The Big Island was like a beacon, with the flows of lava rippling heatwave signatures in the ocean, and it didn’t take long to enter the stream that would lead them to the pod and the meeting point.

    As she sensed they’d arrived in 2222, and that they were floating on the surface of a calm ocean, she gently opened the energy bubble sealing the ghost and alive cargo of birds and vegetation, so they could breathe in the pure air and enjoy discovering around.

    Belen, look at you, not a ounce more of blubber since we last met! You ought to tell me how you keep so fit”
    “Batshatsassani!” Belen was pleased the see the great female orca who’d come to greet her.
    “Still with your entourage, it seems” her friend said without a hint of malice, blowing a few rings of bubbles around in a relaxed manner. “Let me accompany you to the ceremony.”
    “With great pleasure, dear. Rest assured, I won’t carry my entourage along for the time of the ceremony.”
    “It would have been cumbersome, no?” Oftentimes humour (and irony in particular) were a lost subtlety on the orca’s mind. Belen just smiled to answer, revealing a great range of ghostwhite perfect baleens.

    As they swam their way along the beautiful clear ocean, they were greeted by a pod of joyously rambunctious great dolphins, a good half size bigger than their common dolphins cousins she’d seen swimming near the coasts of Portugal. The leader of the pod was doing acrobatics to retrieve and play with a funny scarf made of colorful feathers. It was no surprise the dolphins were playing games, really. That or chasing food took the best of their time. But the scarf was the strangest thing Belen had seen in a long time and it triggered some kind of forgotten memory. Odd thing for her to not remember a memory, unless it was from another probable dimension… She followed the urge to ask.

    “Were did they get that?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing important… Four strange aquatic thingies went down earlier this morning, making a whole lot of noise around. They looked like one of those aliens, but so clumsy we thought they were probably sickly and left there to die by their tribe. The ‘phins took the fancy red gills from one of them.”
    “Are you serious? Are they OK?” Belen huge heart felt panicky at the thought of the small creatures left to die without help.
    “Of course they are, I knoooow we have to keep our reputation, you know. Where they are now, I’m not too sure. But the octopi from the camouflage squad are on it, following them. According to the last I know, the aliens have been lost for awhile in the underwater caves. When they’re exhausted, we’ll send them somewhere else… Can’t attract too much attention to ourselves, with the ceremony and all…”

    When the bubble of air popped open, and the veil of mist lifted, all the birds woke up excited and rushed out to taste the 2222 fishes and for some of them, to enjoy cracking macadamia nuts with their beaks shut.
    Among them, Huhu the parrot felt its brain change in a weird brainwave he’d experienced before.

    It knew what needed to be done next.
    Surreptitiously, Huhu crept on the vines covering the floating mess that was the galleon, very slowly, in the direction of the Captain’s cabin, where the Captain’s treasures were kept. A heap of rubbish really, mostly gathered on various of Peter’s visits inland —broken shells of attractive and incomprehensible forms, shiny mother-of-pearl squiggles and brightly colored beads of various materials, former sea trash sanded down to their round form by the power of the elements, and left bereft of any hint of their man-made origin.

    The second key was there, next to the window, with a faint metal shine on its brushed surface, laid in the middle of an array of strange metal objects, most of which were rusted and unrecognizable, old keys as well maybe, or virtually anything else.

    On a schedule, Huhu, swiftly assessed that no other prying eye was looking his way, and that Peter’s ghost form was softly blinking in a snoring fashion, then leapt on the table, snatched the precious key, and flew out of the window to join Irina at the rendez-vous point on a particular rock off the shores of 2222, Big Island, where she was sunbathing in her mermaid costume, while Mr R was close too, in his octopus suit, and as well, on a mission…

    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.

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

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

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

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

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

    Adamus was on, and unstoppable

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

    “Wait, wait!”
    When Jonbert in his crab suit arrived on the spot, most of the life had deserted the place to go for a half-brain peaceful sleep, except a few remaining inebriated whales making some more ambergris gyrating around the fading crystal. At times, the hologram could still be faintly perceived.

    “It’s so unfair, I’ve invested so much in this quest to see it fail now and have other reap the reward! I have a question, answer me!”

    The St Germain hologram seemed roused by the word question, if not by the emotional request.

    “A question… Mmm, sounds tempting, I didn’t really get a good question in ages, not to be rude with the previous ones, but well…” he shrugged.
    “Alright, alright, a few questions but be quick with it, I’m nearly done packing my data to transcend to Peasland.”

    Despite the draw to ask more about Peasland, Jonbert was steadfast in his resolve and asked the question that had been on mind rehearsed many a time, hopeful for a mind-blowing answer.

    “Life everlasting is at hand; all I need is to refine enough gold to go through time…”
    “Oh, or simply a bit of gugleshopping would do”
    “Nevermind, must be a data interference”
    “How do I manage that? Can you teach me transmutation?”
    “Well, sure I can, it probably would help, actually I just did it again right here about half an hour ago.”
    “Where is the gold? Where is it?”
    “It’s in the heart, that’s where true transmutation works. Maybe you should listen to some music, I hear a hit song is on its way.”

    Jonbert had the vague feeling he was being mocked, if not by Saint Germain, by fate or worse, his own attempts at a futile quest.

    “But seriously, endings are not so bad you know” the hologram went on “sometimes some experiences are like being trapped in a crystal. I was trapped in a crystal, in a previous life, a long time ago you know… But I digress… You see, new life sparks new creativity. I suggest you make peace with your life and go on with the rest of it, otherwise you’ll find out you have missed it completely. No amount of fountain of youth is going to make you feel better, not in this state. But the reverse is true, the more you will enjoy and inhabit your present, the longer you will live, without even ageing.”

    It surely wasn’t an answer he was expecting. Nobody would have dared give him such answer.

    “Take it as you are not dead yet, this capacity to be surprised is a great feeling… Now I must bid you farewell my friend. You had indeed some great questions…”

    “Wait!” the unexpected words had stirred him somehow and Jonbert had a sudden idea “Tell me a bit more about this Peasland place,… are they in need of a person in a place of authority? Can I come along?”

    “I don’t see why not. Let me recalibrate that crystal, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

    And with a flash of light, the hologram and the crab-man disappeared to the relief of Belen who was monitoring the scene with interest mixed with concern.

    “That was unexpected. And bloody hell, I’m dead. Those humans know nothing.
    Well, look at the Now, it’s high time I go back to Peter, he and the kids must be worried green sick…”

    Peter dear, what would you think of some up-scaling?” Belen asked her portly ghost partner.
    “You mean? Our place?”
    “Well, That galleon is a bit mouldy and creaky, true enough… And we’re all a bit cramped in there, and nooo, don’t give me that look, it’s not because I’ve been eating more, haha.
    Honestly, I don’t mind haunting it. You had something in mind my dear?”
    “It just occurred to me that there happens to be a luxury time-travelling equipped submarine now floating around without a captain.”
    “Oh, and you knew I always wanted me some submarine to swim and bob just like you… How sweet of you!”
    Belen nodded with a whale smile.

    “But… What about the birds? Can really take them with it, can we?”
    “Don’t mind the birds, we can leave them with the galleon, and honestly there are worst places and time to leave them than in Hawaii 2222.”
    Peter giggled approvingly.
    “Well, I’ll consider it, and we’ll see tomorrow.”

    The woman sitting next to me on the plane never stopped talking, she must have told me her whole life story, Aunt Idle wrote in her diary. It was a long flight from Australia to Iceland, I’m not complaining ~ it was quite an entertaining story. She said she came from Blue Lagoon campsite in the Adirondacks originally, although that was many moons ago, as she put it. Then she joined the army, but she didn’t tell me much about that, only that she’d been posted to Kenya and had taken to the place, always meant to go back and never did. She’s been married twice, once to a northerner called Bert Wagstaff, but that didn’t last long ~ nice enough guy, she said, but a bit boring. No kids. Then to Trudell. That was another story she said, but didn’t elaborate.

    She said something about investigating fungus but the drinks trolley appeared. She asked for Blue Sapphire gin but they only had Gordon’s, and then she started going on about when she was in India. She had a book in her hands the whole flight, although she didn’t stop talking long enough to read much, it was The Rabbit, by Peter Day, with a picture of an upright man with a rabbit head on the cover, all in white, rather surreal.

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