Incepto ne Desistam. A Pantser’s Motto?

Ok, I admit the title might be a bit of pretension, and no I am not classical trained. The snippet of Latin which translates as – ‘May I Not Shrink From My Purpose’ is simply a case of In Google I Trust. (And used in the hope that no Latin scholars will chance upon this and have grounds for pointing out my error in usage)  That said a Pantser should never shrink from appropriating stuff out of the Public Domain, short of blatant plagiarism that is, of course.

The reasons for aforementioned appropriation, its justification and then strident qualifier will come as no surprises to any Veteran and also Proud Panster. We who work with the barest of threads or the smidge-est of ideas for a plot, if we start with one at all, and thence aware of the perils of the journey which lies ahead proceed, boldly, carelessly, doggedly, anarchically, irreverently and other associated adverbalies all the while intent on reaching a conclusion.

Well we will have an idea of what we are going to write about. Some sort of reason or imagery. Maybe even the ending, or what we might think will be the ending, This faint image will fade like mists in sunny Spring Morn’s under a growing glare of circumstances.

At some stage you hope Characters will start tell you the way you are going about the business is simply not going to work and you should listen to them. However herein does lie one of the issues a Pantser might well have to confront on a regular or in extreme cases a daily basis, being The Characters insisting they known best. ‘Here’s what is going to happen, now you just be a good little wordsmith and write a few hundred words on the scene or plot twist. No, we’re not going to tell you how, that’s your job,’ At this stage you zone out to your family, friends and maybe some of your allotted time at the job you would rather not be doing while you wander the foggy lands of your imagination and writing skills trying to find a way through. 

Whereas I personally grimly indulge in taking up the challenge, it is understood this can be unnerving for someone relatively new to the process. Having a character mentally nudge you just before you drift off in nightly slumbers, or wake you up at some variable time, then leave you wondering ‘What?’ and resisting the urge to slither out of bed to sit vacantly at a laptop or blank paper is not really conducive to the creative process. I wonder if this is the true reason behind the sudden demise of a few major characters part way through some novels.

With all of this in mind here is something of an account which as is my custom is an intention either to be a warning or an ‘Ah. Not just me then,’ to any readers who are also embarking or struggling with a project.

Back in 2021 my previous trilogy came to a conclusion, and of course my creative side was wondering where to go next. Firstly there was a thought ‘Well you could do a follow up….Like twenty years on?’. I pitched an opening draft (or three) to the central characters of the previous work. They weren’t very enthusiastic. ‘It’s not just that we are happy with retirement Rog’. To be brutal we can tell your heart and imaginative whizz-bang is not in this’ Trelli being the most level-headed of the three as always is very forth-right while usually being polite.

Thus I examined various formats in the Fantasy  / Sci-Fi genres and relevant possible plot lines ranging from the irreverently comic to the lightly serious. The Fantasy outlines were all rooted in the world of the Trilogy (Never waste a good World Build ), Past, Present of Future but I could not get Characters who were interested in the plot lines. Some were dissatisfied that I was not going with a true Rom-Com while others were more intent on turning entire chapters into Shakespearean soliloquies or 19th Century Russian novel reflection on Life. Also the more action inclined folk were complaining about hanging around having a couple of paragraphs of sword waving while waiting for the possible true battles somewhere ‘up the road’. And none of the aforementioned sides were happy with the time given over to those who indulged in lecturing on geo-political realism. 

There was an interlude when basing the tales in a Sci-Fi setting showed promise. I am fascinated in the Quantum Mechanics concept of the 11 dimensions in String Theory, and wondered about with this as the basis for practical interstellar travel in days thus getting around that faster than light ‘thing’ . You travelled through the 11 dimensions. Great idea? Well in my excitement I missed the obvious 12th Dimension – A Creditable Plot, all I had were folk aimlessly mooching about a empire wide set up doing quirky things. Anyway the true Quantum Mechanics theories were nothing like what I had in mind. The format might have been Pantsing but not really rewarding Pantsing. More like a TV ‘Soap into ‘that’ season when the audience knows the writers have run out of quality ideas. 

And yet still, there was the persistence to write another work or series of works. True to Panster’s code, having no plot and no characters would be poor excuses for not writing. What was required was some need to kick-start. This arose in a naturally sideways manner from the need to use my Netflix subscription and thus by chance watching two series of animated story lines based on computer games. The fine level character development and attention to plots held me to repeat viewings. Happily nothing has been appropriated from these but the experiences did stir me into thinking up all sorts of combinations of people, places and events, based in my precious world-build. Encouraged somewhat by something which might ‘develop’ I then indulged in one of my naughtier ploys as used in Writing Prompt challenges. This was to listen to audio book versions of respected and revered works of Fantasy Fiction and intersperse the narrative with my own irreverent observations or additions to put me into my writing mood, Yes, I know it’s not dignified or mature but Pantsers reserve the right to utilise the ‘Works for Me’ approach.   

Thus the project commenced with a few characters who had been hanging around for a while but never cared much for the scripts given to them. This time satisfied with the initial scenarios and basic directions they set to work content to veer off script as they saw fit. The modest hub-bub attracted other folk who had previously told me ‘They’d let me know’ and gradually one of those communities of characters essential to the tradition of Heroic Fantasy began to accumulate. At this stage there was the general debate about which way the plot and sub-plots might develop, fortunately there was an agreement that there would have to be one central theme with room for differing narratives to work through. Everyone was of the belief that if it was going to be Heroic there would have to be some sort of conflict. Adoption of the nascent natural element The Ethereal was enthusiastically approved of as its evasive nature allowed for all sorts of liberties to be taken with Time, Place and Rationale, strict adherence to Continuity being a bit of a trial. 

As the work reached the 10,000th word passage I felt sufficiently confident enough to release a public notification this launch might have potential.

On Outlining A New Writing Venture (A post with no reason other than I was having fun with it) 

This bold step taken there was no option but to continue.

Now I have passed the 20,000 word stage. Characters are settling into their roles, back stories are starting to form and I have the outline of a plot, of course this will not survive contact with the main characters and the support characters more than capable of effecting a change. Whether the Whole evolve into more than one volume is something which is quite beyond current forecasting. All that truly matters is ‘It’s On Its Way’

What more could a Pantser ask for?

Mischief as a Therapy (A possible series of irregular musings) Pt 1

cartoon-boy-doing-a-happy-dance-by-toonaday-6279

There have been, and will continue to be many worthy commentaries, blog posts, social media memes and essays lamenting the domination by the Republicans. The problem being that no matter how much erudition, rationale or passion demonstrated in these, those grass roots Republicans who have supported Trump in the face of all evidence will simply laugh, jeer and mock. And the rest will go into denial….for a year or so anyway.

So what’s a good liberal, democrat and the rest of the coalition of to do? Obviously continue with your good works, campaigning and opposition, yes for this is no time to give up, in fact the opposite. However……

(Read the rest in a whispered voice )Furtive  

You do need some lightness too. What’s wrong with little mischief? Just to annoy those who have set their nation on the same course the Titanic took. I mean nothing really mean and vociferous, just enough to make them go Yosemite Sam   

 

Something to drop into one of their rambling posts, or on their social media Hoo-Hah sites, or even on your own if you have a varied following. A modest disturbing of their morning breakfast cereal as it were.

For instance, during the campaign I read a lot of tosh from various of The Pack about Socialism and Socialists which demonstrated they knew as much about the whole topic as most of them do about Climate Change. Rather than try and talk to that brick wall give them a taste of the ‘real stuff’, with no commentary, just leave it around. This one should spill the cereal:  

Plus this Wiki-link
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Which_Side_Are_You_On%3F

And walk away.

No it won’t change any minds….but you have to admit, your snigger level might go up to 11

Be creatively mischievous folks. It will help see you through these times…you deserve a little indulgence 

Lines Which May Have Sunk or Maybe Made The Whole Thing…More Interesting

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We all have our favourite quotes from plays or films. And we also have some which just didn’t work for us personally. Whatever. It cannot be argued though that a change in the line, or maybe an additional one might have made the whole thing ‘different’.

Hold that thought, and consider the following:

Braveheart – ‘They may take our lives….. Hey guys! Where are you going?’

Hamlet – ‘To be or not to be…That is the….Aww chuck it! I’m off down the pub,’

To Have and Have Not
Slim- ‘You know how to whistle, don’t you Steve? You just put your lips together and blow’………….
Steve… ‘Pffffffrrrrfft,’

Gone With The Wind – ‘Quite frankly dear. I…. have to admit when I see you looking so lost and forlorn and yet painfully beautiful, my old heart just melts. Come let us try once more,’

Dirty Harry –
Callahan – “You’ve got to ask yourself one question: ‘Do I feel lucky?’ Well, do ya, punk?”
Bang!
Robber – ‘My bullet-proof vest says…Yes’

Titanic – ‘I’m king of the world!…..Whoooop!…Arrgh!…..’ Splash…..’Blub-blub-bloop’

The Shinning – ‘Here’s Johnny!…..Owwwww! Yoob bust by dose! Wherd yoob get dat ‘ammur frumb?’

Casablanca
Rick- ‘Here’s lookin’ at you kid’…
Ilsa-  (giggles)…(snorts)…Huh?…Wassat suppose da mean Sham? (Mimicks in deep voice)…’Here’s lukin’ a’ yew’ (snort)…..Jus’ pour us anudder shot huh?’

And while we’re on the subject…

Casablanca
Rick- If she can stand it I can! Play it!
Sam plays ‘Grieg’s Piano Concerto’….
Rick ‘What the heck is that? I said-‘
Sam (over the music) ‘Enough with the self-indulgence Rick,’

Goldfinger
Bond – ‘A martini. Shaken not stirred.’
Bar Tender- ‘A shot an’ a beer. Take it or leave it mack,’

For us Brits…..
Henry V –
Henry – ‘Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
Or close the wall up with our English dead……Pardon?
Waddya mean. Tough luck chum. We’re Scots, Irish and Welsh? ‘

Or

Henry – ‘And say ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day.’
1st Soldier to 2nd Soldier- Who? (2nd solider shrugs)

(later at end of speech)
‘Shall think themselves accursed they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.’
3rd Soldier to 1st & 2nd Soldier: ‘Again with the Crispin. Get on with it. This bowstring is getting slack.’

Richard III
Richard – ‘A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!’
A Loyal Nobles arrives- ‘Here my good king. Take mine.’
Richard- ‘Thank you good sir. And thus do I gift you this (hands him crown). (Then calling off stage). Hey! He’s here! (two finger whistle) Look at this crown! Found him! Richard! Get him! (exits swiftly)

Back in the USA

Bonnie and Clyde:
Bonnie: ‘And we rob banks’
C W Moss: ‘Well an’t that small stuff. I’m lookin’ to be a hedge fund manager.’

Conclusions

Mind you, some just cannot be improved upon:
Othello (In amongst Othello’s closing lines) – ‘Here is my journey’s end. Here is my butt,’

And finally the one which inspired all this; taken from a similar theme in Brit- Michael Green’s book ‘The Art of Course Acting’
‘Oh look. Here comes Godot,’

Feel free to add your own……

Just Sharing a Smile or Chuckle

Humour….Comes in all shapes and sizes doesn’t it?Laughing and pointing

For instance

Charles Schulz’s Peanuts Cartoons.

You might not like them, but you will have heard of them or seen them, because Snoopy Charlie Brown’s sometimes pet dog is so universal, in particular due to his impossible act of sitting comfortably on top the the apex of his kennel. From there aside when he’s not musing or in aerial combat with The Red Baron he is writing The Great American Novel.

Personally I would suggest Schulz’s humour is at its most incisive and witty when we are privileged to see Snoopy the Author in action.

Just to share one which no matter how grumpy, grim or downright mean I feel will always lighten the mood and put me level. It’s the combination of a magnificently awful corny (but clever) punch line and then the response, one that makes perfect sense.

Snoopy writing G Reluctance

Be fair. You can understand her reaction, can’t you?

Well, It Seemed Perfect #Blog Battle : April – Messy

Messy

King Prendertugh was a person of thorough approach strengthened by a gift of ‘The Long View’, (in political terms that is. Not as with his worthless brother Frenderbugh who yearned to be able to see maidens bathing).  Prendertugh had discerned long ago that his kingdom of Freyback would have to go to war with neighbouring Kcabyerf over the lordship of Vendregan, whose family The Burdeph knew they had little say in the matter and thus lived up in the Olps; the tallest mountain range in their realm.
It was a recognised fact that a successful campaign would rely not just on weaponry and killing people, but to have a most intricate set of code; for it was another recognised fact that King Dehigget of Kcabyerf, a most wary fellow had nurtured a body of highly skilled code-breakers.

Prendertugh however had invested six years in having exceptionally gifted and intelligent folk devising the series of codes to be used by his army, spies, and disruptors . The code was based on a now unused language spoken by folk from who had dwelt in what had once been fens, but had been long ago drained, so had the folk. The process took three years, another two years were spent training code couriers who could write and translate the messages and one explaining to all receiving the messages that theirs was but part of an overall plan which would come together and all would be well.

In the initial and carefully stages invasion of Vendregan and the disruption of bordering areas of Kcabyerf went well. Dehigget’s forces were confused, surprised and required to retreat; aside from being out-manoeuvred there were problems with their supplies, horses were cut loose from stabling, and river shipping developed holes and sank and people were mumbling dissatisfaction, although no one knew how or where the mumbling began.

Into the twentieth day, the time came for those always necessary adjustments; revised coded orders were despatched. Grand Duke Hurstew on the left and High Lord Fiztmarice on the right acted accordingly. Grand Earl Hangus in the centre and overall command moved forward, then wondered just where Hurstew and Fiztmarice had got to. He being a man of solid judgement halted until matters were sorted out. King Prendertugh being party to the big picture and having heard from his spies Kcabyerfish forces were in disarray had based the new orders on those reports. He now wanted to know why Hurstew was marching north away from the advance, Fiztmarice was sitting down doing nothing, and Hangus marching forward without support.

A number of bold riders had ridden hard and fast this way and that to the said generals, then had ridden boldly hard and fast back, it seemed there had been some confusion in the orders, but no one could discern where the errors had taken place. Fresh coded orders were issued.

Hangus promptly marched north; Hurstew reversed his march and went south, while Fiztmarice proceeded in oblique order to the south-east, then north-west.  Dehigget  meanwhile having been told the codes out of Freyback could not be broken decided that ‘They were up to something’ and his generals agreed. His armies were collected and reorganised then sent on counter-marches to shadow the foe. For those of a more humanist point of view there was the benefit of no one really fighting and thus getting killed. For those who lived in the area there was the wretched experience of armies marching back and forth across your land, wrecking your hard worked for crops and not paying for anything they appropriated; the same thing happened if the armies stood still. It was a miserable time for the Vendreganish and a great deal of sourness was directed at the The Burdeph secure in their mountain fastness of The Olps.

Meanwhile Prendertugh was vexed and puzzled about the failure of his forces to coordinate. Had not the orders been clear? Had they not been efficiently transcribed into code by highly trained men? Being a king, he naturally fell to suspicion and introspection.

Even more meanwhile his fellow king Dehigget indulged likewise. His being focused on why his personnel could not tell him what cunning plans Prendertugh’s generals were up to. And due to the mumbling he suspected a plot against him.

Both men demanded answers, gruffly and loudly. Naturally blame and accusation was parcelled out amongst most in the two courts and high offices. Generals sharing with their troops the sludging due to a sudden very unseasonable wetness of weather received with very ill-temper indeed the uncoded and hastily drafted letters inferring they were deliberately avoiding battle. Both kings therefore received tersely uncoded response that IF their majesty REQUIRED, then they (whoever sent it) would resign their position.

Thus frantic orders from King Prendertugh’s court  with lesser attention to codes were sent in every direction. Generals finding some of the commentaries were less than succinct in their clarity, ignored them and put junior officers to pray to the ancient god Varius Xcusis and then send replies saying they couldn’t comply with those orders. Dehigget went in for replacing generals with old rivals of theirs, some duels were fought. There was a purge of code breakers too.

More eventous Meanwhiles were taking place in the covert ranks of the Freybackian spies and the disruptors. The former being consummate professional paranoiacs suspected the code had been breeched, burnt all their documents and went into hiding to reinvent their identities. The latter were by nature unconventional and free thinking and centrally co-ordinated within Dehigget’s realm. Mayrus Hekth the leader, had received the following message, which when decoded read:

Buy up all the cheeses. Take care, for I yearn for your underwear

He consulted his two code couriers who concluded as one.
‘Something has gone wrong with the codes. Toldja they were too complex’

Hekth being an inventive fellow at once used the message as a basis for inspiration to add to the acts his teams had been up to. In this case he told all operatives to disguise themselves an officials of Nobility and with much arrogance buy up all the cheeses citing the nobility’s desire was more important than that of the peasants, others were set the task of writing on walls and gates ‘King Dehigget yearns for your daughters’ underwear’ . Whereas the latter initially caused much puzzlement and bemusement, the former did have the desired effect of civic discord, and confusion in the ranks of the nobility as vast numbers of cheeses turned up at their abodes, followed by greater numbers of peasants and folk who needed cheese for their own businesses, all inflamed by Hekth’s agents. Dehigget was somewhat distracted by incoming quantities of female underwear sent by the more obsequious and opportunistic of his subjects, whose daughters were not pleased. Neither was Dehigget’s wife. Hekth not one to rest of his successes then spread the rumour that eating excesses of cheese caused heads to fall off. Some of the nobility were found with heads detached, it did not take much examination to reveal decapitation was probably the cause, but the underlying tone of the message  got through and many cheeses were seen rolling out of castles, an act which did nothing to improve the flavours much less the image or the lower classes attitude to the nobility.

Under other circumstances Prendertugh might have taken advantage, had he not by a combination of confusion over the codes and sullenness on the behalf his generals   effectively lost his armies in Vendregan. For someone usually of thorough approach strengthened by a gift of ‘The Long View’, it was indeed a curious state of affairs.

With both kingdoms in a state of administrative and strategic immobility while suffering from wet muddy weather and a severe outbreak of Meanwhiles, adding to the situation was an unforeseen At This Juncture. These of course having much potential to make a troublesome situation worse.

In this case The Juncture revolved around  Rayleot the scion of The Burdephs of Vendregan. A year earlier he had been despatched south to locate and court a suitable bride whose noble family would give The Burdephs some leverage in keeping Freyback and Kcabyerf off of their backs. Rayleot was not long in discerning that most of the young women suitable to his rank were already involved in complex marriage arrangements. Instead he set his sights on the naturally financially orientated mercantile classes. Mindful of the geography of his homeland his attention fell upon Trevella the elder daughter of the Bungdover family whose river transport enterprises had blossomed. For them someone whose family owned land through which the great and wide River Flume, had its origins was quite the catch. Trevella saw no problem with Rayleot, and as was the custom thereabouts the marriage was conducted promptly upon a river, Rayleot signing all sort of treaties and agreement which he reckoned were a better option than having two armies tramping upon Vendregan. As a wedding present he was gifted a replica of the legendary Large Barge Marge, the original and foundation of the Bungdover family now being retired and sanctified. There were certain enhancements in keeping with those times, such as secret independent power source of propulsion and several small but effective pieces of ordinance.

The happy couple’s appearance not only caused surprise but also distress to craft of both Freyback and Kcabyerf  which were gently disabled either by blasting off masts or rudders, and pushed by the now named Rarge onto banks, thus displaying the astute mercantile strategy of not blocking rivers. Taking advantage of all local intelligence and armed with large bags of gold supplied by his in-laws Rayleot contacted the most disgruntled officers of both sides and offered them employment in the new Vendregan army whose initial duties involved simply changing sides and taking directions to higher drier ground.

Hekth and Freyback spies met and sent a message unto their king, uncoded in basic Freybackian of the lower classes:

‘You’re kippered Guv’nor, It’s all gone in stable buckets. The Burdephs have got a sharp one who is quick about coin. Suggest a bit of the old selective Horse and Carriage,’  

Kings could be expectant of rebellions but Prendertugh was beset by tremendous sulks amongst his lords, generals and senior staff. He was somewhat overwhelmed by the ludicrousness of mature men imitating the actions of adolescent told to clean their rooms, he took the curiously phrased advice. Back to the Meanwhile he mused…What the Holy Frib had gone wrong?

The aforementioned cabal also reached out to those opposite numbers in Kcabyerf by devious means to indicate they contact their king in similar fashion, if he wanted to keep his cheese (code for throne) and sell off the underwear that is. The opposite numbers did so. Dehigget beset of domestic trials and tribulations agreed.

Within the year, and drier spell all had settled down both kings having to lay out large amounts of gold to soothe the temperaments of upsets generals, though later  this was somewhat recompensed by trade choregraphed by the Bungdover mercantile cartels.

Since no one could figure out how the errors had arisen the codes were scrapped. The strategy of ‘Let’s say no more about it’ being adopted. Prendertugh turned his attentions to his gardens and extoling the virtues of The Simple Life

Dehigget worn down by cries of ‘How’s your cheeses?’ and the more independent commoner maidens waving very functional woollen undergarments at him calling ‘Does this meet with your approval Your ‘Ighness?’  became a recluse and responded to any enquiry by his ministers with ‘Whatever,’

Eventually both kingdoms swore fealty to Vendregan under the rule of King Rayleot (The Calm)

Historical Footnote:

Some centuries ago….

It was mournful time as The Folk of The Fens were obliged to quit their lands, now being heartlessly dried up by greedy folk with big armies. The elders had embarked on writing down an account of their folk and these events to be kept in all time, for the day when their folk would arise once more and learn of their ancestors.

Those elders versed in the Ethereal built in one sting for the future. At the beginning of the tract was inscribed in subtle runes masking as letters. ‘Woe and Confusion upon those who pillage our language as they have pillaged our lands’ 

Don’t. (You know it makes sense) #Blog Battle : December – Provoke

Don't

No one of at least reasonable intelligence, perception and maturity had expected the Earth to suddenly be confronted with a large space fleet. One day the cosmological community were going about their usual varied activities collecting and evaluating data, all methodical and calculated pace. The next day there were  several times several million tons of advanced technology and construction quite getting in the way.

Quite sensible attempts were made to communicate. The responses were formal pronouncements to wait for further communication. These conveyed the tones of ‘Do As You Are Told’.

First were predictable attempts to hurl munitions at the fleet, these barely reached the commercial aircraft cruising height before they came back down in very, very tiny bits. The places from which the munitions had originated suffered similarly, the very, very tiny bits going upwards.

Brave aircrews taking to the skies, found out the complex electronics on their craft were doing very odd things and in general wisely ejected. which was as well since all the aircraft were being hauled by known forces skywards and beyond.

To occupy themselves while waiting for whatever and relieve the tension, scientists of various disciplines tried to figure out The How of what was going; governments having even less to do concentrated on the business of maintaining order, obstinately by arresting large amounts of folk they had been trying to think of reasons for, for some time.

And armies being told not to provoke the visitors shot at mobs whose members really should have stayed indoors.

Then the next day across all methods of communications came warnings that landfall arrival was imminent and not to do anything hostile. Many smaller but nonetheless big enough dark grey craft descended upon capitals, and places of strategic importance, discharging human-looking armed figures dressed in equally dark grey armoured uniforms and helmets.  The few folk nearby who were fixated with that most virulent of Human diseases, Terminal Stupidity attempted to resist. They also ended up in tiny, tiny pieces going in various directions. Aside from them there was no damage done that day.

The message sternly and efficiently delivered was quite obvious.

Do not provoke.

Those who seemed to be commanders did actually ask, in those serious tones in many languages to be taken to ‘your leaders’.

The general feeling was not to laugh. Anyone who might was stifled by those other folk close at hand, gagged, tied up then dragged off somewhere out of sight and hearing.

Leaders all over the world were confronted by stern tall fellows of composed features, as was a meeting of the UN. The message was simple.

Earth was now part of The Disstarn’Gahn Empire. There would be a period of adjustment. In the meantime, the planet was allowed to go about its non-military business. The latter part of the announcement was unscored by all sites of nuclear weapons being subject to severe malfunctions of all equipment, including toilets which was probably the most effective action. All naval craft over five hundred tons having been surveyed by pale green beams began to leak and slowly sink on account of developing hundreds of incredibly tiny holes.

Financial Markets and Religions did not know what to make of it.

Normally the internet would have been alive with conspiracies, mostly fringe religious pronouncements, annoyingly smug folk saying ‘Toldja’ in various languages. Empty-headed folk tried to take and post up selfies of them standing next to the invaders.

Such was the impression by the invaders there were a relative few of these usual human displays of feeblemindedness. Those who resorted to social media commentary found their screens filled with static, then a brief message which read in many languages. ‘Stop it. NOW,’. The very small percentage who persisted suffered the same fate as their machines, that being reduced to tiny, tiny bits. The selfie folk were sprayed from small canisters with something which made them promptly sit down and stare vacantly for the count of one thousand.

Across the world, the message was reinforced.

Do not provoke.

After the passage of one hundred days, many folk previously in authority were replaced and rather relieved to be so since they were just told to go away. Others with no ambitions and feelings of self-importance, but generally efficient were, whether they liked it or not, were put in place instead, under the supervision of dry, humourless Disstarn’Gahn officials who handed out instructions and orders with a patient, slightly distant paternalistic air.

Armed forces were to be retained but generally as rescue and repair forces, and supply some assistance to local law enforcement to keep things in hand until the Disstarn’Gahn would turn up to finalise the problem.

There was about the planet a distinct feeling of anti-climax.

Mixed with relief.

And apprehension, for after all every record of human history was replete with either graphic or sub-textual themes of conquerors being beastly to the conquered at some stage. Occasionally somewhere, somewhen folk would notice very tiny, tiny bits of ‘stuff’ drifting down out of the sky to remind them.

Someone had provoked the Disstarn’Gahn.

During the aforementioned passage of one hundred days, the rules had begun to appear. To begin with, these took the original Do As You Are Told format. As the Disstarn’Gahn had obviously seized all computer information the vast majority of folk via their phones, laptops, games consoles, workplace machinery, TVs, and radios were kept updated. You went to work. You could have leisure time, but in a restrained and muted way. After a while, you were allowed social media just so long as the commentary related to restrained and muted activities. Personal travel could be undertaken on approved routes in a responsible manner at reduced speeds.

The substantial number of folk on Earth had become weary of violence by those of small minds, ill-earned fame, and riches by those of hysterical personalities but little talent, those equally hysterical who made up stories supported by other hysterics and some of talent who reckoned they had the right to play at being celestial. Therefore, as those within these categories gradually disappeared either into tiny, tiny bits or just were no longer there, the remainder adapted contently to a peaceful if somewhat mundane existence. For those whose previous life had been one of hunger, fear, and general uncertainty, Mundane was fine.

Even if there were rules.

Two thousand, four hundred and thirty-two to be exact. Not every rule applied to every person, but The Disstarn’Gahn were a folk who were precise for every occasion. And anyway, folk only suffered at first an admonishment, repeated transgressions of any rules after then resulted in gradually harsher admonishments, until…

Everyone was getting used to that.

Scientists, scholars, and generally serious mature folk of all sorts were naturally still curious. The former were told they would still have to find out things for themselves but were given advanced equipment, which suited them. Scholars were left to ponder on the Implications of this event. Serious Mature Folk with investigative minds conducted very discreet digging of facts. One which came to light early on was that a large number of the more disruptive unpleasant sorts were being taken off planet. That suited a lot of folk.

There was the Other Question though.

Why Us? What purpose did this invasion serve? For we were obviously isolated in galactic terms. Since The Disstarn’Gahn did not indulge in social interactions with Humanity, the matter was going to take some time.

Those Serious Mature Folk with investigative minds encouraged others idling in boredom from all manner of disciplines and professions. Discoveries were made by painstaking stealthy observations. Contacts and exchanges of information were conducted by the ancient art of paper and ink through messengers. The whole business was naturally complex and time-consuming. Years.

The first discovery was the fate of those taken off planet.

It was a known fact The Disstarn’Gahn did not have a sense of humour but were curious about this Human trait in its manifold forms. Thousands of malcontents were marshaled into the activity. The Disstarn’Gahn truly wanted to see if anyone did survive having an anvil dropped on their head or being blown up by human explosives. Other unfortunates were grouped in large armies dressed as clowns to crash at each other in vehicles honking horns, while more ran about striking opponents with mallets or emptying vast amounts of liquid on them; it was discovered only water was relatively safe. There was much slapping, kicking and eye-poking, and falling out of buildings. Since those involved suffered injuries, fatalities, or at least emotional distress and none appeared to enjoy participating in the activities. The experiments were abandoned, and the survivors sent off to work on farm planets. Salutary information indeed.

As is common with Research there were Unintended Consequences. Some by accident, others by the application of the Sideways Glance, seeming to look at one thing while actually watching for the true subject. The endeavour was to learn more of The Disstarn’Gahn. Something officially discouraged by the race. To do this many folk worked covertly on the invader’s language under the guise of varied subjects of Arts, Sciences and creating Commonalty of Human Languages (An obscure term that slipped all supervisory activities). Eventually, something of a surprise arose, so much so that several years elapsed while linguists of every culture were consulted on the findings.

The results were irrefutable. From whichever language you looked at the name of the conquerors, when finally translated into any local vernacular it came out as.

Funny.

The variations were numerous. From ‘The Great Wibble-Wobbles’ to the ‘Old Flabby Bottoms’ with divergences such as  the very quirky ‘More Fish Please.’

This was a great problem for Humanity. Conquerors with superior weaponry, lacking a sense of humour and most likely irony would not take well to their subjects pointing and giggling. Chances of provocation were too high. Secret discourses took place and the more trustworthy of phlegmatic Humans who had been drafted into service were taken into confidence and the difficulty discussed.

One of Humanity’s few gifts was to conclude at some times ‘Yes. We see The Problem,’

After some musing as only administrators and defter sort of politicians were capable of, those of eloquent brevity, diplomatic astuteness, and not a little courage were tasked. A common strategy was reached.

Each in their own way sought audience with rulers. They explained Humanity was grateful but suffering Existentialist Dilemma. By good cultural fortune this concept was understood by The Disstarn’Gahn.

It was explained to them Humanity was worried as to the dignity of The Disstarn’Gahn. In researching for a common language and using that of The Disstarn’Gahn as a template the issue of ‘unfortunate translations’ of the race’s name had been uncovered. Some relatively insipid examples were selected such as ‘They Who Sniffle’ and ‘People Who Need Cushions’.

Since this was conducted with much supplication and apparent distress, The Disstarn’Gahn took the matter very seriously. For galactically speaking they had opponents equal in ability to contend with. It would not do for these to learn the most recent Disstarn’Gahn conquests thought conquerors to be entertaining. Stellar empires being possessed of great self-importance. Therefore, a simple solution should be adopted, one which would keep this private between the two planets.

Earth’s highest-ranking locals were told their progress, maturity, and obedience had been noted. Their status would be elevated to Favoured Beneficiaries, which meant Earth was effectively independent but cordoned off. Considering its relative remoteness this was easy.

Aside from a few small, discreet observation posts, there was no longer any evidence of The Disstarn’Gahn.

Those Humans who had full knowledge of the situation swore themselves to secrecy and all evidence of the matter was hidden in deep places. The Disstarn’Gahn pronouncement passed into history as a simple fact. And Earth into an era of global cooperation and acceptance of variety.

Leaving one unanswered question. Considered too provocative to pursue until stellar progress was made.

Why the heck had The Disstarn’Gahn come in the first place?

Imagery Down The Ages #Blog Battle : October – Catafalque

Shakespeare 1CATAFALQUE

(Advisory note. The Author wishes it to be known that they cannot be held responsible for the way Word Press presents this narrative. To use a technical term ‘It’s Got ‘Em On It Today’) 

The three gathered were men hardened both by war and the politics of forging and holding together a new nation. The time had not been pleasant yet had been necessary.

‘He will be sorely missed,’ said Goreth thick-set, the greying of age had not diminished him.

‘Aye,’ agreed Mandran, feral thin, darting eyes, precise and short of speech.

‘Even the gods did pause in their work at his passing’ Kattrach, ever solemnly theistic, even in victory.

These words said each in their own way meditated upon the simple plain stone oblong which held the body of Thaindoch first king of Heydale. It had taken the allied forces of ages, strain, and age to bring him down.

Their thoughts concluded, each then knelt, kissed the oblong whispering their own farewell, wiped their eyes, and quit the room, outside would always stand an honour guard of four.

Two hundred years passed Laynedole III and his council sat at the ornate table. Although not an imposing fellow he did have an ordered civically inclined approach.

‘To the final matter of today’s business gentlemen,’ he said with solemnity ‘The anniversary of the passing of Thaindoch,’

As was expected everyone murmured respectfully, some made modest religious gestures; it did not do to be too effusive.

‘The founder of our great nation,’ Arch-High Priest Rhuyofla intoned, or droned depending on opinions ‘May his soul continue to rest from his labours,’ it was one way of skirting around the fact he had been distinctly pagan.

‘I feel, gentlemen,’ drawled out Laynedole III, a signal the meeting was far from concluded ‘Now that our nation’s borders have expanded thrice the size of when  Thaindoch had laid the foundations and inspirations for our enterprise, we should consider the question of the image of his last place of repose,’

The ten men present were admirable administrators, diplomats, and legislators. As were two generations before them. These were men of The Favourable Compromise, The Advantageous Marriage, The Trade Deal, The Economical Application of Force, and of course The Implied. None had drawn sword, hewn axe nor inspired armies however Implied had actually worked quite well. For in all these skills, The Image played its part.

‘We,’ continued the king ‘Are at something of a crossroads. ‘Heydale,’ is viewed as something of a bastion of,’ he paused as he gathered the selection of the next words ‘Commerce, Civic Organisation, Prudent Governance, Learning, Military Efficiency and above all Stability,’

Everyone agreed. And so it was decided that to create the correct impression Thaindoch’s lasting resting place should be surrounded by sets of three signature weapons; to the right his two-bladed sword, central his shield, and to the left his trusty spear in total there would be six sets, leaving the message that no matter what direction the threat came the spirit of Thaindoch in the nation of Heydale was ready. Visting royalty and nobles from other nations were obliged to visit it, citizens, encouraged to. The stern plain iron images left the right impression.

At the time.

Over the next three hundred years whereas Heydale endured and flourished, somewhat, Society progressed, Knowledge Expanded and more folk than the nobility preferred began to express views and ideas. Since a lot of the views and ideas led to more advancements and more wealth there was not a lot the nobility to do about it, except try and catch up with the wealth, Among this those who ruled or influenced those ruling began to appear from the classes normally associated which just doing as they were told. After a few mishaps and misunderstandings things did settle down. Eventually try as they might the previous ruling classes had to give way, a bit. Even so, it had to be noticed there was not the deference or respect there used to be. One king, Flori III felt he ought to raise the subject.

‘As much one accepts that young urchins are somewhat acceptable scallywags, being hailed as one passes in one’s coach as ‘Old Flabby Bottom’ and seeing the adults simply smirk and not administer mild physical punishment does make one wonder if all is well. Look into it, please. We do not want Unpleasantness my grandfather Flori I was confronted with,’

Since the Unpleasantness had been small but nonetheless a riotous expression of discontent verging on rebellion the matter had been being addressed for some time. Arrests were plentiful anyway but Causes needed to be looked into.

Not much progress was made until someone had the bright idea of calling in the Guild of Artisans, a widespread body representing those at the lesser end of Society. A group of the more thoughtful, and sober types were given the task. They were surprisingly swift in reply as if the subject was already embedded amongst the ordinary folk. One fellow Urburt Gnogginz a carpenter by trade addressed the select number of the government.

‘Before we gets to the business of Social Reforms,’ he said ‘It’s best to start with the Symbolisms. They are the more easy to sort out, and cheaper too. Now, the visits to the tomb of Thaindoch, a lot of folk are getting wearisome of traipsing there, when they could be earning. And there’s the other thing. Those iron whatchm’ callits,’

‘Sword, Sheild, and Spear,’ came the prompt reply from a Lord Herald.

‘Well that may have been three ‘undred years ago, but times change. So does perceptions. That two-bladed sword reminds folk of a fork, the shield a plate, and the spear a knife. Seems to be a whole lot of dining stuff, these days. Like Thaindoch was always eating, and well without being rude, we haven’t had a thin king for a long time. It irritates folk who rely on just slender meals. Y’see my meaning,’

Those who dined on fine and ornate wear went into consultation and had to admit the Guild had a point, since there was likely to be another war soon it was decided the Symbolism would be better served by simple spear-like, less thick poles with very sharp points. Thus, the war was brought forward a few years, the Sword, Shield, and Spear scheme taken and melted down for cannon, well one quite small cannon and replaced with cheap by very polished pointed poles. This appeared to satisfy the populous. Not one dared suggest Flori the III fatally falling off of his horse at a parade and being replaced by his gaunt, serious son, who insisted he be known as Graven I and had his father buried under a very flat piece of stone helped. Graven I in fact had everyone royal re-buried under flat pieces of stone, including his volatile disagreeable young brother Murble though this was his first burial and whether he was quite dead at the time was another matter.

The war went quite well. And the Haydalean Empire came into being.

One hundred and thirty years and five Gravens later the Haydalean Empire was bumping up against two other equally capable empires one to the south and one to the west. By good fortune, all five Gravens were very serious and forward-thinking men, with gloomy predispositions as to the inevitability of war. Thus, the War of the Grand Alliance was won by Haydalean at the expense of the said Alliance who had to pay for it.

Over the next seventy years, The Haydalean Empire flourished. Some people were very wealthy, others did quite well and most of the lesser classes had homes, jobs, and regular meals. Taydle II a fellow who felt Image was important gathered together his government.

‘It would seem to be,’ he said ‘That as there is spare money we should invest in a few more prestige projects. Whereas stern austerity was fine when things were tighter, now that diplomacy is done by money rather than wars, we should look as if we can afford a lot more than The Traybel Confederacy or the Stollovish Empire, that way folk will be impressed by us. I suggest we start with the tomb of Thaindoch. We’ve all had put up with being shown that ornate marble apparition of Stollovish king Ferosch I with all those annoyingly small carven figures purporting to show his great victories. And there’s the Confederacy making a big thing about not having an actual person but allegorical types, like that hideous half-dressed woman holding a lamp. No, we should be at one simple but ornate. We shall decorate around the original tomb with complex pillars and elaborate fencings all topped off with a golden canopy with tasteful drapes, and a few marble slabs surrounding with stentorian and inspiring words carved in in classical script,’

Since Taydle II had obviously spent some time thinking about this and his government wanted to get him to sign some tricky legislation to do with land reform, which the nobility did not care for, the government thought it an ideal opportunity to agree, have him potter about with the task so he would not notice what he was signing off on on land reform.

In later decades whereas nobility would concoct coded rude toasts at the anniversary of his death, he would be remembered with fond regard as The Great Reformer. To his dying day, he always assumed this had had to do with his initiatives to make places look splendid in particular the tomb of Thaindoch.

During the subsequent ages of machinery and industry wars became more spectacularly efficient and devastating. This enabled bigger and better wars to break out and Stollov tried again. One innovation was that craft flew through the air and dropped explosive devices. Much of the important parts of the Haydalean Empire were protected by large guns that fired back. Still, craft did get through. Explosions highlighted which buildings or construction had been robustly built. And which were not.

There was some concern about the ornate columns at the corners of Thaindoch’s tomb, they swayed a bit, because of all the noise. They were not supposed to. A committee was set up to look into it.

Ten days later some bold Stollovish aircrews attempted a raid on The Imperial Estates. The batteries of guns defending set up an even more furious barrage than usual, since they had something to shoot. They didn’t shoot down any attacking planes, who failed to hit anything apart from parklands. The combined vibrations did cause most of the ornate structure around the tomb of Thaindoch to fall in on itself. The tomb made of very ancient and sturdy stone remained undamaged.

While several courtiers and officers of Works and Means ran about in dismay, a couple of enterprising officials of the War Ministry arranged the remains of the ornate stuff into an image that suggested the tomb was holding everything up, then using the latest cameras took photos. These were passed to the Ministry of Information who ensured the various news journals put out the news displaying the tomb stalwart as ever. Purplish prose invoked the spirit of Thaindoch as symbolically holding the empire aloft. Some of the more esoteric writers suggested his spirit was indeed abroad. Thus, artists and tasteful cartoonists produced much work on this theme. There were many other practical factors as to why the war was another Haydalean victory, but those of romantic trains of thought would invoke the invincibility of The Great Tomb, and say no more.

Eventually, the wreckage would be tidied up, but not without some modest protests.

Upon a remote hillside within a very windswept part of the original borders of Heydale was a circle of several lesser circles of stones. Historians and folklorists could never agree on the foundations of what fort.

Once a year four spirits would gather.

‘Aye Thaindoch. You were right. There would no peace for any us elsewhere,’ said Goreth.

‘The place called mine moved ten times because of minerals. Always the money,’ said Mandran.

‘Some folks keep building mine and other knocking it down’ Kattrach observed ‘Something to do with paganism,’

‘Never mind lads,’ Thaindoch said ‘This is a good a meeting place as any. Around our old bones,’

On The Subject of Meaning Well #Blog Battle : September -Particle

Particles

There came Third War of The Lanes, which was horrendously expensive due to the strategy of moving fleets through the Fifth Dimensional Point of Transit. So much so that there was hardly enough to buy weaponry to cause great loss of life and structural damage. Thus, fleets effectively glared at each, or tried to sneak in and land on a planet and capture it by default, although there were sometimes humiliating defeats when some regressed populations threw rocks at these valuable ships and there was not much to fight back with.

During the peace talks the very noble thought was reached that what was needed was a generally harmless and uncontroversial religion which everyone could worship in numerous ways. This was thought a splendid idea and The Unity of Temples of Respectful Worship was brough into being. This was the first decision made by the newly created Council of the Fifteen Worlds.

Rich people who were less rich than they had been even so managed to syphon off money to fund the project and by doing so lessened their taxes burdens.

Theologians were left to work out the details and many had another splendid idea of bringing physicists in on the business. Parties in both fields had speculated on certain overlaps. What could possibly go wrong?

No one of course thought to consult with Historians or Intersocietal Relations Academics of the relevant Realism Schools; they both being out of favour in the post war self- and mutual congratulatory and optimistic atmospheres prevalent.

The first act of progress was to consider the Nature of that Which Was To Be Worshipped. Under pressure from governments and sponsors and not seen to be footling around, a working title of They Who Are took root. The consensus was the sheer majesty these words evoked would do very nicely. After all who does not like a dignified, imposing enigma? Those not consulted sat in corners various and looked at each other over their favoured beverages and kept it all to themselves.

Meanwhile the next step was to pronounce the interaction between this Supreme Concept and the Physical Universe. The Physicists pointed out everything was made of particles, and this was a commonality which should be addressed. The Theologians agreed, after all what had been brought into Being must be part of ‘They Who Are’, this was a splendid idea of the fundamental relationship. Simple tracts for public consumption were already in production. Particleism was nascent.

A considered rather mature act was to accept that folk although agreeing on the principal would have different perceptions. Physicists showed Theologians their basic works on Particles and with great ease it was seen there were three basic constructs of Particles and naturally Particleism.

The supremely remote Particles Quantum. These were really, really small, they made up atoms and usually had names which ended in ‘on’, except for the stubbornly unique ‘quark’. But this didn’t matter because they were so complex, they had an air of mysticism and that was fine.

Next up came the solid and dependable Atom and Molecules which made up stuff. The Particles of Structure; this would suit folk who did not feel too at ease with all that much mysticism but liked a bit of mystery of the constructive sort.

Final in a dive into the Grand Gesture, came The Particles Macrocosmic. By now the Physicists were being rather heady at being consulted so much and this let the Theologians go wild. It was agreed that All which could be seen was therefore evidence of They Who Are. Thus, the worship of Macrocosmicon was seen to be the most popular and easier to grasp.

On hearing this announcement, the Historians and Intersocietal Relations Academics both of the relevant Realism Schools, collectively winced.

Initially all went well. The Quantum devotees deemed Medatovees of the Infinite  did develop squints as a result of meditating in the hope of Great Insight and perceive the smallest of particles. The next group up The Structureists invested in microscopes and studied chemical and atomic tables. Some proposed there  was the Ultimate Compound, in which every element could be forged together. In this would be true insight into They Who Are. These had tremendous fun experimenting. Governments allowed them uninhabited small planets and planetoids so that when disasters came these were small, containable and did not affect populated regions.

However, Macrocosmiconism was not long in causing problems.

The Grandeur School claimed you could do no better in studying They Who Are than to looked to wonderous scope of Galaxies. It had been agreed these qualified as particles on account of there being lots of them, and they formed groups. So that was that. There were thence some grumbles from theologians who claimed a person could get as much insight in mediating upon the wonder of simpler things such as small rocks. This proved a very popular idea amongst those basic societies, particularly the more aggressive ones who viewed their historical victories as divine approval. Less martially inclined neighbours and authorities in general tried to supress the more excessive worship and drafted in theologians and priests of The Grandeur School into trouble spots, the latter insisted upon certain degrees of weaponry, purely for defence. The word ‘Defence’ being quite subjective.

The result was for The Grandeurists to become rather conceited in their allotted duties and started to make moves to define just what constituted a worshipable particle. Those who had been pondering a variety of items which could constitute a Particle worthy of worship did not care for such a high handed approach. Unpleasantness arose. Over the years this caused several distressing incidents and events across all fifteen inhabited and sort of advanced worlds along with numerous disruptions on the moons, smaller difficult to live on planets, and other bodies. The majority of Humanity was not happy about this, it seemed Particleism  was making too much of itself, its higher echelons being given to self-importance far beyond being what were arguably not that important particle. Amongst sections of the population there was growing nascent air  of ‘I Didn’t Sign Up For This’ .

Meanwhile.

Historically, those appointed to ‘Councils’ and other bodies intent of formulating some sort of rule tended to have a regrettably significant number of ambitious or avaricious or simply malleable persons in their ranks which led to misery for large portions of populations who did not deserve it. This trend might have continued had it not been for a question which had been looming in the recesses of the more mature minds of Humanity:

‘Who else is out there? Where are they?  What are they up to?’

There had been no satisfactory answers. This weighed heavy on the astute.

The result was three generations of a type of middle grade administrators who were particularly astute at seeing when something was going wrong, in this case a Universal Religion. Not a state of affairs when there was the possibility of Someone or Something appearing suddenly out of Somewhere. Action was necessary. The fact that folk at lower levels were working on it might have been appreciated by Medatovees of the Infinite if they’d been allowed to know, but these administrators were wary of any Particleism involvement.

While many were making reputations and wealth out The Particle Issue, and others were hitting each other, the middle grade administrators reached out in all directions to the like-minded. In a spirit of mutual support, they rose quickly up various ladders and against the backdrop of strident disruption, squints, sudden explosions and large ornate excessive ceremonies they set their own plans into action.

Some of these being seemingly small in content such as a commentary in a journal read by more than a few on the Planet Myrathia a juncture for trade routes; the headline being ‘In The Canticle of The Particle, Wherein Lies the Significance of The Article?’. Because this was written in what might be verse there were those within The Grandeurists who took great offense at what they saw as frivolity and demanded the author be brought to book. At the time the authorities and most of the planet were preoccupied with the biannual mass transfer of goods through the junctions, and were somewhat testy through lack of sleep, worrying statistics and trying to meet the requirements of the other planets.

The local Grandeurists were told in polite and diplomatic terms to go and boil their ornate hats, preferably with their heads in them. A large number of the lesser classes who had been tiring of this theological crew not contributing to the general movement of goods were in sympathy with the authorities. And various vulgar versions of the title were turned into tavern songs.

The results were something of a turning point in the way religion was seen upon Myrathia.

Which was how those up and coming administrators had intended matters. On Myrathia Grandeurists were thus slightly discredited. This proved fertile ground for those within the administrators’ offices to go to work digging up embarrassing personal facts and elaborating some. A few years work was needed, but with the aid of newly confident Historians, enthusiastic Intersocietal Relations Academics (of the relevant Realism Schools), previously disgruntled physicists who had been left out, and theologians of various other religions who had been keeping quiet for reasons for personal safety, whereas They Who Are was still respected Particleism was being viewed as possibly ‘Hoo-hah’, The followers of the three basic branches were not ready for that. Locally as Myrathia was the only planet suitable for any sort of substantial or even modest habitation the rest of the system was soon stabilised

Somewhat interested and also relieved that this was working so well those on the Council took up variation to their own planets and stellar systems. The process was on average a half generation in the settling and some practices verged on the unpleasantly military; therefore, all went well; aside from the Pnumenoic system whose various quarrelsome communities had been the source of all the Lanes Wars and unsurprisingly clung to the Grandeurists telling all Macrocosmiconism was the true and only way.

The Council by then with great deftness in the use of massaging of truth, applications of half-truths and a judicious sprinkling of downright lies made to seem it was blaming itself for encouraging the hastiness into a new religion. By then the current Council members were able to blame the previous Council members which was tough on those still around. A pronouncement was made that The Council was to be disbanded and each system to seek its own way in the spirit of mutual understanding, but that there would be no more official religions anywhere, anyhow. There were protests and some heads may have been boiled but overall populations now aware that authority was much more local and since there were only trade ships travelling along the Fifth Dimensional Point of Transit, the local authorities were far better armed. In general, everyone assumed their systems were now independent again and didn’t have to comply with what other systems were doing or worshipping.

Unbeknown however fourteen of the systems were keeping in close covert contact with each other; just in case. The Pnumenoic system was left to its own devices, twice it tried to start a war with other systems but found all its forces could do was get there and be shot at by far superior weapons. Their Grandeurists could not help but feel they were becoming unpopular and mentioning Macrocosmiconism loudly only got them disliked.

One sort of benefit of the whole failed experiment came from those now discredited Macrocosmiconism beliefs. The Cosmologist side of the Physicists involved in the creating of the systems in their gazing at stars and star clusters had concluded; there was or to be technical had been something out there. The question now being.

Where? And how would come calling? That concentrated minds wonderfully and no one talked of wars between Humans anymore.

Keeping Up To Date With The News Here In The UK

You may have heard that Boris Johnson (ex PM) is now an Ex MP. He’s resigned. Because his position is untenable:

https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/live/uk-politics-65860705

It’s all breakings and the BBC news readers and commentators are having trouble keeping straight faces. Meanwhile my own thoughts are

And also:

 

In the UK when a party decides a liability has to go, they are gone:

Wallop!

Out the door!!

For more fun and games on the subject check out the BBC news feeds.

The Day When The Stationery Was No Longer Stationary – #Blog Battle – March Miscellanarian

Miscellany

To avoid the dangers of The Ethereal stood the ever vigilant Custodians of the Lord God’s Word. Tireless,  Evaluators of Sins and Blasphemies, Dispensers of Justice.

Officially.

Custodian Vernünftig had dispensed with this view of the entire Custodial Office. Therein could be found quotas of time-servers, bombasts, opportunists, and fanatics; each adding their own handful of grit into the workings of the Imperial Machine and the Ecclesiastes in particular, through the Sin of Wilful Stupidity. He worked with a pragmatic dictum. Get the job down sensibly you will survive and possibly succeed.

Which made him valued and sent to deal with difficult, often dangerous matters. He could not make up his mind where this current deployment fitted.

*****************************************************************************************************

A small princedom, not very strategic. One lordship within likewise, the noble puzzled more than flustered, welcomed his arrival.

The village did not exude any of the nascent or obvious threats he had grown to discern. The hill was some what abrupt as if someone had put it there to make a point, but not of sufficient dimensions to loom and brood.

‘I can make out the cave Guv’nor,’ Zwanglos said peering through her eyeglass ’Leastways whatever passes for one,’

Respectful to him, eye for detail and spirited. Her common of city speech, barely reverential to the official dictates and naturally her gender barred progress to Custodian. A loss. She would remain his assistant, A Tildelte. They were greeted by a clutch of villagers and the local Translator of The Lord God, a small man who seemed to be bearing the problem with but mild irritation.

‘Good Revered,’ he said as Vernünftig dismounted ‘Has anyone briefed you about the curious events emanating from that cave?’ he gestured with thumb over shoulder in the direction Zwanglos was still addressing with an eyeglass.

‘My Brother in Calling,’ Vernünftig  began, and the Translator nodded at the implied sarcasm ‘Was sparse in his report,’

‘Makes a change,’ Zwanglos volunteered ‘Ol’ Geschwollen usually won’t use ten when a hundred will declare his importance,’

‘To be precise,’ continued the Translator ‘He went up the hill, with Holy Book and Staff declaring loudly for the presence to be gone. There was an even louder ‘Be Gone You’, stuff was thrown out and down he came, rolling most of the way. His book and staff are still up there. White as swans he was. He’s recovering, somewhere, safe,’

Zwanglos fidgeted.

‘Can I get up the hill an’ retrieve ‘em Guv’nor?’

‘Yes Tildelte. But you cannot keep them,’

‘Spiffle,’ was the only audible word. He could guess the rest of the litany. While she was off, Vernünftig continued to converse with the Translator.

*******************************************************************************************************

‘So then. How did this all start?’ he might as well have been discussing unexpected early blooming of spring flowers, his preferred approach.

‘A traveller came through. At first we thought he was a bit lost and offered shelter. But the pest snuck out at night up the hill. The first we knew was a sudden bright light from the cave a loud cry of ‘Be Gone thief,’. By moonlight we saw him scampering off westwards never to return. It was never much of a cave more like a dent, one for shepherd to huddle in when it rained. When all that happened. Well I notified Custodian Geschwollen,’ a grimace ended the account.

‘His expertise,’ Vernünftig said, with little solemnity ‘Is more in ensuring adherence to the minutiae of religious decorum,’ he observed his Tildelte’s progress, she had the staff and the holy book ‘I fear he underestimated the problem,’

She had stopped some three quarters of the way, crouched behind a rock then directing her attention to the cave called out.

‘Wotcha! Got time for a chat?’

The illumination was bright even in daylight, the reply ‘Begone’ a boom which unsettled the escort and their mounts, Zwanglos ducked as a shower of small objects erupted from the cave.

‘Please yerself,’ she retorted and pausing to scoop up some of the missiles made an orderly retreat.

‘It’s very deep cave Guv’nor,’ she said on return and began to comb small items  out her hair.

Vernünftig, with the eyeglass studied the cave entrance, his practiced eye noting the slightest of hint of two outlines, between which was a greyness. He concluded the larger of the two outlines was the usual which the folk saw, its lighter shade indicating shallowness; therefore the deeper dark was an entrance within an entrance which had recently arisen and he did not doubt leading to some Ethereally bound location.

‘Acorns,’ said Zwanglos, offering him a handful for examination.

‘They are blue,’

‘Noteworthy that. All back to the Age of Conceits. Many experiments going on then. Some reckon as to why The Ethereal Arrived; because of footling about with cheap machines. Dunno why blue acorns though, no records about nowadays. Another thing,’ in her other hand were slender metal objects curled down at each end, since she was getting more animated Vernünftig let Zwanglos continue unabated ‘Now these. Legendary. Staples,’

‘Staples? That’s a new word on me,’

‘Definitely Age of Conceits stuff. You load them into a device. Push paper or parchment into it, thump it, and they fix all the papers together. The LifeGuard probably got one,’ she shrugged.

‘How do we know about them?’

I found out footling about in that old archive of archives, when we was investigating them heretics of Fraud’

‘Oh yes. Very tiresome,’

‘Not so bad,’

‘For you. We need to reflect and approach matters in the dawning,’

**********************************************************************************************

Before sunrise the pair made a cautious approach, Zwanglos with her prize, the staff, Vernünftig never felt the need for one, he indulged her.  At the rock Vernünftig halted and called out in a stern, calm commanding tone.

‘Sir. A word with you please,’

There was a pause before the expected demand for him to leave.

‘No Sir. I cannot do that. You are causing upset to the local folk by your sudden, albeit understandable actions. I am obliged therefore to request your discourse,’

There was a silence, Vernünftig felt whoever they were they were thinking over matters. Always a tense interlude.

Then the voice boomed ‘No’

At the first inclination he was diving to cover, counterpointed by Zwanglos standing up staff pointed at the cave entrance.

Objects of varying sizes appeared, just as she yelled ‘Nah ya dont’ and blue flared from the staff, meeting the objects which halted and fell to the ground at the cave’s entrance.

Vernünftig viewed his Tildelte with mild paternalistic censure.

‘You are not supposed to be able to do that Tildelte. Yet, while whoever is shocked scuttle up there and get as many of those objects as you can,’

‘Takin’ me staff,’ she said with heavy dignity.

By the time she was back unscathed, and laying out her booty Vernünftig had made some evaluations, he viewed the variety.

‘What are these?’

‘Treasure Guv’nor. Safety pins. Erasers. Pencils. Sharpeners for Pencils. Plugs – lucky he didn’t have a basin. All sorts of small stuffs,’

‘Thank you Tildelte,’

He strode forth calling out.

‘Sir. Please cease. We have come only to discourse. Know you that you are in another time?’

There was another silence.

Then the voice came out questioning.

‘Another time? How say you? On what assurance have I?’

‘Well come forth?’ and to Zwanglos

‘And you Tildelte put that staff away. It will make the fellow nervous,’

A smallish man came out of the gloom, he was dressed in functional clothes of greys, before his eyes rested glass framed in metal. He peered out.

‘Oh my goodness. What happened to the city?’ he looked up ‘The skies are uncommonly clear. I hear not the sounds of war. All is actually calm. I thought they had come to steal and destroy? Thieves in the night,’

Vernünftig altered his pose, a slouch, hands into pockets, ironic grin.

‘My dear sir. We have much to discuss and educate each other on. We must talk, here and now. We will not be interrupted,’

There was a muted grumbling behind him.

‘Gladsome day Guv’nor. It starting rain and we’re gonna have to sit in the open while Master Mystery has the comfort of a cave,’

‘Be stalwart Tildelte. Our service often requires our discomfiture,’

She had a feeling he was making her squat in the rain for unauthorised use of a Custodial Staff. She pulled up her hood.

‘You have the evidence of your own eyes, ears and nose,’  Vernünftig reasoned ‘Time and circumstances have taken away those surroundings you knew. Were you not aware of the passage of time? Master?’

‘Thaddeus Greylane,’ it seemed as if the fellow was unsure how he felt about the name ‘I am an archivist. Not of wonderous things but the small items which mean much to ordinary folk. It is not a profession with great reputation. Yet, when The Ethereal arrived and under the weight of its implications came the subsequent failure of innovations which had been deemed necessary, then perceptions changed. It seemed as if everyone with any motivation of preservation was trying to store items and information,’ and this point he shrugged ‘And it all came my way. Small objects, books, memory containers, poured, into my offices. There was no help either. So many people were involved in survival, machinery and fighting. The influx was such that I fear my offices sunk somewhat, in a gentle way, which I assumed to be through causes Ethereal, until eventually I was blessed only with artificial illumination. What else could I do, but carry on my work, it was either that or go quite mad,’

‘I see you point,’ Vernünftig said in all sincerity, a not uncommon outcome when in pursuit of or the maintenance of knowledge. ‘Were you aware of detailed events?’

‘I could not say for sure. All measure of days passed by. I had some idea that frightful matters were taking place and unearthly creatures were abroad, but no one or nothing threatened me. I continued and itemised some fifty -seven thousand, four hundred and thirty two major items, each with their sub-categories, averaging fifty-two and then there was the issue of classifications,’

Vernünftig conducted some mental maths.

‘Your archive must be vast,’

‘When one relies on clerical records, yes,’

The man’s whole demeanour had quite relaxed, Vernünftig thus pressed on.

‘Thus came the day when you were aware of someone?’

‘Indeed, a furtive, vulgar air intruded. I was alarmed, all my hard work being pilfered. Not being a person versed in weaponry, I threw disposable things, and tried to sound in authority,’ he peered around Vernünftig ‘I fear your assistants caused similar alarm, although this one less bombast and more protective,’

Zwanglos managed a feminine smile and brief wave.

‘She is young, enthusiastic and loyal. I fear my predecessor lacked diplomacy,’

The fellow had obviously been thinking over matter.

‘So much change, in surroundings, dress, accents. How much time has passed?’

‘The Ethereal,’ Vernünftig began as it seemed common ground ‘Was and still is a vast field for study. You may have travelled through and not passed centuries,’

‘Oh my,’

Zwanglos had squelched up.

‘Ethereal takes a bit of getting used to,’  she said ‘That said. Since you could throw lots of pins and things around I reckons you got Ethereal in you, therefore could be quick on the uptake,’

Vernünftig clapped a hand on her shoulder, she sagged.

‘Splendid idea Tildelte. You will stay here and exchange information with Master Greylane. You are ideally suited .It might take a year or so, but will be good and worthy work,’

He began to pace down the hill.

‘Where you going Guv’nor?’ she demanded.

‘I am going to find that wretch who started this, learn what he knew and what was his purpose,’

**************************************************************************************************

Greylane addressed his puzzled attention to her.

She had to admit such rummaging did sound compelling also bringing the fellow up to date. And she kept the staff.

‘Firstly. Can I come out of the rain?’ she asked, adding ‘Why blue acorns?’

 

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