Date: Present Time
Unbeknownst to all, deep below the sea there was a dolphin pillow fight. Smacking each other in the dolphin face with pillows. Making it red. That was the life.
Veles was having an eminently unpleasant morning. She marched downstairs and opened the door to let loose some silly tadpoles onto the ground. An odd magic caper of some sort. She went downstairs to the bed and breakfast area with the love seats and had a waffle baked in a strawberry with syrup and dainty cups of milk. The fork was sterling silver edged with copper.
Belts of the more salient daylight lay upon the table. An unprovoked and wanton intrusion. From
her perspective in the woozy hours of morning, the strawberry looked bigger. Diplomatically she poked at it. A second later it dawned. At once her arms waved into the air in protest, “What the flip is going on?”
But further out onto the lawn the band of tadpoles had already begun their adventure.
They swam through the individual blades of grass. They vocalized like cute squeaky squish toys with the sound, “Wa wa wa '' into the world. Together they clamored over the ticklish grass to find a place to grow. A sea. A blue oasis where plants germinate beneath safe waters. Far from wretched dangers. The tint of the grass heightened and they dived down into the green sea. Little tadpole tails fluttered, bringing them deeper. Waves the color of unripe apple. “WA !!!” one of them cried. It was too much. So, they surfaced onto the grass to pursue a different route.
Tiny helicopters turned upside down so that their blades cut the grass like a lawnmower.
Each chased a tadpole of the band away. An intrepid one jumped onto a helicopter passenger seat just as it righted itself and tried to communicate with the human pilot, yelping “Wa wa wa” but to no avail. It was booted out.
After that matter was good and done with, the band regrouped onto a big flat stone. It was decided that to become frogs, they had to fan out and find a normal sea of water. The youngest tadpole went his own way, and hopped through a window into a birthday party where he was given a party hat and offered cake until a man burst through the window and undid his parachute.
He of course wanted the cake as well, but then another man with a jetpack walked into the room and made off with it into the sky, leaving the poor tadpole without a slice. So that endeavor came to naught.
The eldest tadpole had more luck. He knew the game. He came upon the first little dude he could to give him advice. And that little dude was an ant on an ant hill. Those big buggy eyes.
Razor sharp jaws clicking back and forth. A few too many legs so the tadpole lost count. “Wa wa” he demanded. The ant raised its head, “Ah, good to meet you. A sea you say? I haven’t seen anything like that. To be honest it’s been quite a long day. I was working on this tunnel. I moved a pebble from one side to the other. It was hard to get it in the wall. You have to move your head back and forth. But it wouldn’t fit! So, I took that pebble to this other tunnel and put it there.
Nice and strong. Then this guy comes and tries to take my pebble. Not going to happen. Whew, what a chore. After that I went into this other chamber and took three pebbles and moved them over to the other side. Then I went to this other tunnel and dragged a big pebble. Hard work. Tell me about it”. “WA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!” the tadpole whined, making it so loud as to bring the ant out of his memories. “The sea again. Very well. You can probably get there by talking to the dolphin.
He is past the parking lot but that’s not the best way. Jump up there and take one of the flying houses. That will get you there my friend”, the ant offered, bidding his adieu. He loved the queen.
Up above in the nascent clouds of the afternoon, a few hamsters roamed. They leapt from one mound to another. If anyone looked up, they could see them bridge the gap. The clouds that they landed on bent and spun, becoming hamster wheels. From them hailed zephyrs that swept across the land.
The tadpole with the big head went in search of fire to pacify the helicopters. He easily sneaked into the bed and breakfast. Priya and the others were long gone, and the lobby was calmly uninhabited. A figure appeared, towering above him. The tadpole was startled. With light meekness he raised his handsome tadpole face. A goofy smile stood there, panting evenly. Along with it, a big tongue slapped him up and down. By that time the Siberian Husky that was born of the hearth was renamed Siberian Dusty. Being a good boy, it kneeled down and let the tadpole ride atop its back. Together they ventured past the brick gateway, to a corridor that seemed to know no end. The fireball was jumping on a trampoline, hoping with all its heart to jump high enough to become smoke through the chimney. “Wa!!!” the tadpole insisted to no avail. It didn’t want to join their party. It just wanted to jump. But the clever tadpole drove the doggie to a stick which it grabbed in its mouth and captured the fireball. And although the following bout with tiny helicopters was to no avail, he had made quite a good friend in the process.
Meanwhile, another group of tadpoles led by the one with the freckle did indeed find a pond. Botanicals unfolded across the length of it, making turquoise what once was blue and green. Hummingbirds stuck their long faces into nectar-soaked pits. Petals rubbing their underbellies. Stems weaved amongst themselves into twists with dangling buds and little spaces between. Little beetles scaled those towers. A soul of a lagoon flew past but no one noticed.
More slowpoke tadpoles made it to the shore. They went “Wa Wa Wa”, right and left to their bedfellows until a wall of heat descended, revealing a track of lily pads. Big flat ones. Plantlike.
Animated. Shimmying their buoyant fringes. The tadpoles bounded in glee across the river until coming upon their destination. But it was already too late. A picnic of lazy citizens had already taken their place. Upon being interrupted they opened their picnic baskets and threw slices of cake at the intruders until they fled. The picnickers were left to their own devices. And a vegetarian crocodile nibbled on parsley in the depths.
The emergence of ripples on a panorama pond was a long-awaited release of natural stamina, unfettered finally from the plane of bright water to the plurality of circles. An ensemble of delicate hues, approaching abstraction. The fondness of the ripples was for the shore, and as it did the pond revealed its wrinkles. In moments it surpassed a babbling brook in its liveliness.
Reminiscent of endearment. The colors trespassed into further shores. A disclosure of unbound fervor, animated by light. Minutia of wobbles continued unsupervised for a time. Then circles met each other, forging divine Venn-diagrams. Those that evaporated would know humility once more, passing into the invisibility of air. In reply the leaves of a tree on the shore were sent to another tree. The panoramas felt their emotions sent from one to another, and a young man resting on a bed of grass upon the shore awoke. On the inferno of the sun, the flame formed ripples. Its corona was made pleasant by the circles. Giant fireball heads bobbed out of the depths to see what it was. Espresso cup submarines were sent off course. And the young man got to his knees to see such champion colors that would have made his eyes metamorphosize had they not disappeared a second later. And the geometry stopped, and in time the turbulence would be finished. In the hills and forests would begin the slow, seasonal change to susceptibility.
Undeterred by a few mishaps, the tadpoles ventured on, climbing the hovering wooden planks to the flying house. The place seemed perfectly normal except for the pillow monster in the corner. It just sort of sat there until they were forced to return the way they came, bounding from the doorway back to solid ground.
Farther into the hills, the stone embankment of a river was neat in its construction. It waved into parts farther than one could see. Yet there was a little road leading up to it where mineral specimens of halcyon beauty lined the walkway. A bird flew over and its feathers came off and tickled it until it had to land. Another bird flew over some boaters on another pond and its feathers also came off and tickled them. Later they drove into town and went into a big glass-covered office building where they talked to a tickle insurance salesman but the prices were too high.
Back to the neighbor of the bed and breakfast, a one-story building in unremarkable brick. A shortage of windows and eggshell white drapes. A tadpole escaped forthwith, pursued by the olive oil praying mantis. It unlatched those fearsome jaws and screeched like a monster.
The tadpole was caught quite easily. The mantis twiddled its antennae. Preparing for a bite, it raised the tadpole to its buggy head. But as luck would have it magic was in the air, and the two fused to become the praying mantis tadpole. A tadpole with mantis claws and a hunger for blood.
It swerved back into the building to look for a snack … but the pool boy had already gone. He was a smart one. Before long he had found a tadpole to ride outta there.
A couple was not ashamed of their hot air balloon, although it was fat with air. They ascended cool zephyrs until reaching the heights of that staircase. The man edged over the cabin to witness the usual latticework of cities and lush pastures. She heaved deep draughts into a chest shrouded with linen. Glow from the pyre fell over their faces. It was a good day to fly, they presumed, as the clouds parted. Enamored for a moment, they lost navigation and ventured into a vast gateway. Earlier in Panorama, the jewelry store had detached from the ground and floated skyward. Imbued by clouds, it had burgeoned to insurmountable scales. His shoulders shrunk.
They were dwarfed with respect to everything. In the cabin, a man and a woman hugged each other in fear, as just a single prick of a diamond could send them on their way. Multifaceted reflections of hot air balloons slid over hard surfaces. Even the glint of a beam could send sparks.
Fearsome sparks.
Pearls became mist in the eyes of the pilot as he cascaded through emotionless empty space. A stewardess paced down the main hall, passing out peanuts that were too salty in the opinion of one guest. Nevertheless, he made a gambit to the cart to steal more peanuts, but his hand was slapped. The skies continued, making a play at being space without essence. The pilot couldn’t see Panorama below. There was too much … interference. He dipped down at a reasonable angle. Without the landing strip he would have to improvise. To his relief a butterfly had alighted on a flower and extended its wings out, making way for the plane to land. As so they did. Gorgeous incendiary colors matted the wings. The group sauntered out to find a pond and with lily pads bathed in the substance of butterfly. One of those circles was a respite for some time for the pilot. He yawned, knowing his day would coincide with the honor of high spirits. Around him slushed a rainbow whose cloth felt the wind even in its most irate passions.
“This is a good spot” he mumbled. Such an enticement did not go unnoticed. A beautiful white snail made its way to the surface, putting its slug foot on the lily pad. The man did not know what to say. Very long slimy eyestalks stretched out and looked him up and down to get a good look. He was taken aback until realizing that human impatience meant nothing to a snail. Behind the eyestalks, the shell was almost transparent and reminded him of dreams. A pause in the loft above gave clearance to a beam of light that impacted the wing at just the right time. The man with the peanuts was surprised to see all the invisible mermaids. He had stolen a new bag before
they departed. He reached his hand out to pull one up onto the lily pad. She spasmed for a second on dry land, but soon regained her composure. From then on, the mermaid related to him how strange he looked in a shy, dopey kind of way. He grumbled and thought about why it was always him that got such a passenger during flights? And they always took the window seat. The conversation continued unabated until that dopey face almost won him over. Nearly. On the precipice. When earthbound diamonds headed in their direction and the very fabric was torn asunder, unloosing them all to wild plummets to the ground. An unopened bag of salted peanuts.
In the northernmost hamlet of Panorama, a mail boy rode his bike and tossed a newspaper against a door. Ignorantly he ushered the vehicle up the street. But the house was not amused. It got to its feet and ambled down the street, picking the boy up with a chimney smoke turned hand and gave him a stern talking to.
Regrouped, the tadpoles sauntered with newfound gaiety. The day had excelled only in misadventure. Even so, a simple day is what they longed for in their tiny tadpole heart of hearts.
Brothers standing tall in the grass. Soon they could pursue the dolphin and gain its trust. Rowdily the crowd shouted “WA!” as loud as they could. Headlong into the parking lot. Inside that most human place, the cars were arranged in stacks on top of Greek pillars. It would take one of them to scale that height to survey the area, and find the dolphin relaxing in the bubbling cauldron of soup, the carrot bumping its happy belly. Young tadpole took the lead, and approached one of the columns. Above him, the trunk slowly creaked open. A handsome paw reached out into the balmy air. It was trunk wolves!!! Grizzled mugs blared with evil ivory teeth. Cruelly they wanted the car stack all to themselves, and they would tear anyone to shreds to keep it that way.
Tyrannized, the explorers fell back to the safety of their peers. But the wolves stayed. They wouldn’t depart from the comfort of their trunks. Younger tadpole continued to search around the parking lot until he found a single car atop a single column. Forthwith he bounced into the driver’s seat and smacked the horn. Loud and dominant. Now the tables had turned. He returned and climbed his way to the top. At that altitude, some trees wandered by, growing grass on their roots. Some glistening sports cars were filled with bags of potato chips. But the air was weightless. The horizon seemed clear. Light currents of wind skimmed his body in a relatively new way. An electricity of youth raced across his skin. His entirety. And situated amongst some buildings near a hill was a nose that was too big for anyone’s good.
Feathery sawdust matted the leafy ground. Disheveled clutter littered the remainder.
Chunks of wood sullied the natural order, making it cubist at best. Carpenters’ tools laid nearby on a table. Beyond the circumference of that locale spread a ubiquity of flowers. Some pure violet. Others tones of violet. Deep blue like photocopies of the sky. The man hobbled out of the shed; his clothes yellow like durable parchment. Much to his chagrin he then turned into a flower. Self-absorbed and a retiree of sorts, he took the saw and continued its division of a certain rafter. Fulsome scents lapped around the hut like tides. But he had quite enough to deal with, his face being an ovary and all that. The grain of the wood was quite fussy that day.
Hourglass dust sprang from its cracks. The orientalism of the blue lands had gone unnoticed. The rude metal of the saw set in motion new furrows. Its angle perfect. As that happened a loud moaning from above irritated his not giving a damn about society sensibilities. It was one of those passenger planes with a long tubular cabin. The flower man grew hot with rage. He was a brute with a temper who chose solitude. In anger he grabbed the hammer and jumped up into the air and grew to a size much larger than a cloud and smashed the airplane with the hammer
exploding it in a magnificent fireball. When he returned to earth there were some pesky tadpoles so he chased them away, and smashed whatever brick houses they hid behind. Debris hung weightless in the air, seemingly trapped in time. But the little ones had teamwork and he did not.
They circled around him skillfully and made their way to the other end of Panorama.
Farther away from the town, a circus had arrived in search of riches. The clowns were on their daily break when a cloud stunned them into sleep. Falling over each other, like a bed of colored toothpicks onto the grass. From that silence the curtain of the circus rose, and out hopped a giant frog from the zoo onto the scene. Bloated and fat, it stood on a platform for some time to review the surroundings. A trail of clowns fanned out into the direction of town. Not wanting to get its feet dirty, it hopped on one after the other. At each turn, the frog's butt hit them and their nose honked. The path of honks led to freedom.
Safe for the time being, the pool boy dismounted from his steed. “Wa!” the tadpole added approvingly. The sights and sounds had largely become a hush. The purpose was unknown to him, as such a thing followed only the dreamer. A few residents had made their appearance and milled with pleasant banter. He craned his neck to see the hamsters still spinning in their hamster wheel clouds. A particular one drifted to the center of the sky. Its revolutions quickened, ushering the powerless winds into circles of unfeasible beauty. Diminutive black eyes tightened for the endeavor. Whiskers shivered. Suspended in immediacy, the wheel’s physical form ceased to be discernable. Pulled by barbarous force, the clouds become a whirlwind of insatiable strength. Channeled through such a labyrinth, the light formed into an eloquence of such dapper pinks. Sinews of clouds burst in unexpected directions and reformed. Light radiated in sheathes bending to the will of the whirlwind. The pool boy saw things pass through each sheath. Unable to escape the velocity, the hamster was spun inside the wheel. The winds slowed their campaign.
Eventually its center was done. And the cherry blossom pink was sprinkled like powder on the undersides of the clouds as they molded in shape. The pool boy looked down again and heard the others pick up where they left off. More people milled about and it was starting to look like a regular afternoon.
A soup bubbled and a carrot continued to bounce against his belly. The dolphin clapped his flippers together in glee. With such hot pleasures, he was sure to have a joyous day. Around the bowl something ruffled in the grass. He leaned to look and saw himself encircled by funny tadpoles. “Wa!” they pleaded in dulcet choruses. Knowing his time was up, the dolphin dived into the soup and slurped it all up. His mother had told him not to play with food. His belly swelled and a gratified look alighted on the marine mammals’ face. “Yes, I know the way to the sea, but you don’t need to go,” he answered. The solution to their predicament was obvious. The fact that they were so thick began to humor him. “Wa, Wa, Wa” they protested continuously. At last, the dolphin jumped out and gave them a serious look. He explained how they were residents transformed into tadpoles. It wasn’t that big a deal honestly. They all turned back into humans and talked about the weekend and their plans. All except a single soul who needed to be alone.
Still burdened by the weight of memories, she clamored through the bush. In the world of the fluff, they had played endlessly. Did anyone guess that it was a pillow? And that of Veles, a personage who no one knew. Dreams filled the chambers of her heart. She was immersed in them and their gravity. The cedars and their branches faded from view. From her vantage she witnessed a castle, its boundary cast of glass. It had a portal and a balcony. And a woman whose presence was dazzling and whose figure graced the night. Unforgettable feelings broke the dam
of her spirit and flooded in. Light assailed the inner recesses of her being. And she buckled as the dream became birdsong and soared to infinity. In the daylight she would witness the descent of leaves from the canopy, and see the columns of cedar spring from the very base of the world.
And she would be released from that dream, as its contents were not made for the vessel. Later on, Teddy found the Siberian Dusty and adopted him. Having been accepted by great grandmother Echo, he was most pleased with himself.
The dolphin pillow fight continued until one had won a medal for most smacks in one day. The faces of its enemies were cherry red, resting against coral to regain their breath. Now he was king of the slumber party. They gave him a splendid crown.
CHAPTER 47 - TELENON’S PLAN
In the Temple of the Voices of Reason, Telenon awoke from mere idleness and reveries.
Alone in the room, and at the whims of darkness. The man brushed a hairy, hyena-like chest and got to his feet. He spied the window and its thin rectangle of light. Raising his hand, the shade retracted, granting him a macroscale view of the town below, “The best way to destroy Priya is to turn her world upside down. Her daughter Snow will be the first. She is an impulsive one. I can trap her in the turbulence. It will drive her mad and then I can watch as Priya fights her daughter. Inevitably, she will vanquish her in thoughtlessness, and that will break the champion’s will. Overcome by grief. That is the fastest way to do this”. Yet that was not enough. Knowing what battle truly was, he forced himself to plan for all contingencies. Securing a private channel, he spoke to the most fiendish adversaries of the SOTA. Orchidia Everglow, Visioness of the Infinite Black Rainbow, Kyloptos Rama, and the Giftbearer. “Telenon, is that you?” Orchidia murmured. She was tall and lithe, with mesmerizingly long hair, blonde to the extreme. An intricate armor clicked repeatedly upon her person. The second was trapped within the champion. Dark … like a shadow twin. The third was resting in a sarcophagus. Towered over by an elegant triangle. He was an old man, frail of body, but seething with magic. And the fourth was just a fragment of her former self. In some remote place. Covered in glitter. Naturally, Telenon related the design to them. Kyloptos Rama would have none of it. He was a sore loser, and left of his own accord. The SOTA had done him in. Giftbearer was in no condition to assist
… and so she slinked away. With Visioness, only a few words could be traded before that one faded into the spirit of its captor. And then Orchidia remained. Telenon nodded to her and revealed the expanse of the prairie below. The place for an evil enterprise. “Do you see that, the honeysuckle upon the house” she noticed. “What do you consider about it then?” he wondered, intrigued by the hint of rebellion. “It means Snow has a portion of Honeycomb Man’s power, which means she must have a portion of Etheria’s power. It will be a barrier”. “No matter, let’s get this underway and you will see me do my justice” he concluded, stepping into the diagonal of light cast onto the ground by the window. Below, the challenger approached her phenomenal destiny. It was now a waiting game.
A rabble of birds larked through the air on a journey to a certain roof. The house sat on top of the hill, wreathed in vines of honeysuckle, bright yellow. Across the walls of the shelter, lines overlapped with one another. Resourceful beetles made their way along the thoroughfares.
Further down the hill, the grass met its match through cycles of endless wind. Cleaving semicircles through the prairie. Sweetness filled the air from the interiors of the honeysuckle. It
swept across miles, piquing the interest of anything that it came across. But beyond that was the vast ever-present green of the prairie. Flecked with sturdy trees. A copious nursery to arrest the spinning world. To make it blink. Because there, even loneliness was an ecstasy. Later on, more winds were arriving. Forthcoming from the east. Adding mountain air to the fragrance. Making the tone of it elusive. It was the kind of place that journeys led to. Ambling about, getting lost even in the shortest, insubstantial grass. A century to pass the wide sweep of that plane. The sun sent a torrent of light below. It made an obstruction perpendicular to someone’s face. The clouds drifted because that was in vogue these days. And the grass continued its juvenile dance. As if the shell of a person had entered the pure layer of the earth. Through the layer of space. Or being a shell and walking along the prairie with the wind that flows. Or awakening within the cardinal directions of a compass dropped upon the ground. Willing the needle to its rightful place.
Despite all of that, the afternoon lurched forward. The trees bent as only they could, stretching their backs, as they had seniority. The house on the hill looked sequestered. The yellow of the honeysuckle welcomed travelers.
The mouth of the hyena smiled with toothy delight. Soon enough, there would be that righteous warrior coming up the hill, who was most definitely still a nerd and not hot. Maybe if you looked at her sideways … there were some bodacious curves. But that didn’t matter! She was just a student, like all the rest. A simple scholar that likes books and falling asleep in lectures. Just a regular, commonplace girl. With echo powers and a sword and a heroic look on her face and all that - let me save everyone - nonsense.
CHAPTER 48 - COMPANIONS - PRIYA AND SNOW - HONEYSUCKLE HOUSE
Almost tripping over a garden gnome, Priya continued up the driveway until seeing the cottage, its white exterior peeking out from underneath the vines of honeysuckle that had enveloped it like a floral spiderweb. “Snow must still be asleep” she thought, creaking open the front door. Unwanted articles of clothing lay abandoned on the staircase. The family that dwelt there had certainly left in haste. “Hey!” Priya called out, but her daughter refused to answer.
More of the vine weaved circuitously through the dwelling, over family portraits and across wallpaper, overpowering the patterns that hid beneath. Supple honeysuckle clusters offered themselves like maidens shackled to their vines. “Doesn’t look like she’s in the television room, better check the upstairs” Priya thought. Each of the bedrooms, however, were thoroughly empty. “If you just want to stay inside today, that’s fine, but I need to know where you are!”
Priya shouted. From the corridor she heard the pattering of feet and quiet laughter. Peeking back out of the room into the hall, it was bare save for fresh imprints on the carpet that traced down the stairwell. “Ah, so that’s how it’s going to be,” Priya sighed, following them to wherever they might lead. Snickers emanated from inside the closet, and she opened it, seeing the woman inside speaking to shadows, her hair disheveled, her clothes unkempt. “Darling … are you hiding?”
Priya asked. “It’s got to be somewhere in here …” Snow said, moving her arms diligently.
Squinting, her mother looked closer and saw how she was picking the clusters for their nectar.
“Everyone’s probably having lunch by now, Snowflake, did you want to come outside?”. Snow twisted around and looked at her through strands of hair that fell over her face. Her eyes were wild, credulous, childlike, “Not until I find the answer”. Hearing this, the mother dragged her by the arm out into the living room, and fixed her hair, “What are you talking about, hon? Let’s just go outside already, come on”. Snow began picking some of the flowers that were growing on the
couch, slurping up the nectar, “No! I can’t leave. The answer is hiding in the nectar of one of these honeysuckles. I have to go throughout the entire house to find it. This is my system. I’m doing it by vine”. “I don’t get it, what are you looking for?” Priya demanded gruffly, exasperated at how the day was going nowhere. At this the daughter swiveled her neck, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue so she could see the undissolving jewel of the Ice-Multiplex resting upon it, glittering with six-fold symmetry, “My purpose”. Priya put her hands on her hips, like an instructor insulted by a thoughtless answer, “Snow, you have to invent a purpose, that’s what life is about”. “It’s hiding in the honeysuckle. It’s in one of these little drops” Snow assured her, continuing her quest at one of the vines that slithered across the wall. Funny that they would not touch the windows, but traced around, allowing a most pleasant, light-soaked view of the world outside. It was undiluted, where even the feral green spread its limitless body towards town.
“That’s easy for you to say, mother. You aren’t the manifestation of a chemical reaction. Who are you to say the purpose isn’t in a little drop of nectar?” she huffed, tossing a family portrait onto the floor after finishing its cluster. The glass cracked like a snail shell stepped upon by a fat shoe. “Snowflake … if I help you find the mystery, will you come outside and be with us?” her mother asked, humoring her childishness for the sake of time, and she nodded in agreement.
“You can start with the vine over there” the patron directed.
“I suppose life has been cruelest to you” Priya thought as she picked one of the honeysuckles and dabbed a drop onto her tongue. Snow came uncomfortably close, grinning eagerly at her first effort. “So, each of these leads to somewhere” she deduced as the walls of the house began to fade. Her daughter took it as well, and before they knew it, they were in a new city, in a parking-lot full of wannabe luxury vehicles. From the building came trotting out another Snow, this one in suspenders and dorky glasses. “Hi, I’m Snowie” she announced, shaking each of their hands rather hard. “Are you a used car salesman?” Snow asked shyly, to which Snowie slapped her shoulder, “You betcha!”. The newcomers were ushered into a model which she assured them was fresh off the factory floor, and took it for a test drive down a long road that ran parallel to the city. “This is the next-gen Nordic class air conditioning system, probably one of the best features” Snowie told them, fiddling on the dashboard. “Watch out for that lion on the road!” Priya yelped, and the car screeched to the left. It bore sharp fangs as they veered. “Mom, relax. This is mostly just a hallucination” Snow said as she lowered the window and laid her elbow out of it, twisting the steering wheel with just one hand. Ignoring Priya, Snowie turned to the driver, studying her, “Did I mention that you have very white teeth, that’s a good judge of character in a person”. “Oh, you know … I brush at least twice a day,” Snow bragged. They stopped briefly at a light for a group of people wearing pajamas to cross. More lions sleeping in bubbles hovered nearby. By the passenger’s window a hermit crab carrying a string of sausages offered to sell her one, and she traded an onsuru coin. It tasted of pork fed with freshwater scallops and a hint of basil licorice. Seeing the seat to her right had a picnic basket, Priya opened it and saw that inside was the engine of the vehicle … then quickly closed it and put it back where she found it. “Now I think we’re ready for a shortcut” Snow said as they passed a local park, and spun the car around, barreling through and shredding the green. People playing tennis gasped as they wove through, and more lions appeared that sped away to safety. A grandmother in a nightgown ran out into the fray and hit one of the lions in the head with a wooden rolling pin because it was late for supper. “That’s enough, stop the car right here!” Priya demanded, and they came to a screeching halt near a wide flight of stairs that led to another level. Slamming the door behind her, she got out and paced away to where the railing was, walking onto the first step. “Ah, don’t be like that” Snow beseeched as the salesman trailed
behind. From the top flight an old timer shuffled down, eagerly plucking a tennis ball from a white beard. He must have been eager to play, since he ignored their plight completely. A primal mote of consequence. Whilst the two of them were bickering Snowie tapped her shoulder,
“Excuse me mam, is this your thermos?”, handing it over gracefully. As soon as Priya opened it, streamers and glitter flew out, spattering over her shoulders. Reveling at the prank, Snowie slapped her knee and burst with laughter, “Haha … thought you just needed a little something to relax there, mam”. The daughter shirked away, seeing her mother was glaring at her with those unforgiving eyes. “I’m done here” Priya said, and as she walked away, the place that was the realm lost focus and was replaced by the room. “Well, I guess my purpose wasn’t in there, let’s try another” Snow implored. She pulled her mother by the arm from the couch where she had collapsed in agony of the dumbness of the day. “You know what, maybe life hasn’t been cruel enough to you” Priya said as she was forced onto her feet.
For the time being they decided to have tea. As Snow sipped her herbal, she saw that more precocious squirrels, although they were not invited, had decided to romp about the room.
“Their population has skyrocketed since the epidemic,” Priya noted. “They would make excellent friends, mom. I think I’ll call this one George” Snow considered, patting the head of one sitting on the napkin. When they were done, they retired back to the wall where another vine awaited them, sharing in another droplet and waited for the walls to disintegrate, shepherding them into the hallucination. Incrementally, the faces of a crowd appeared as snippets latched together, but not in the ordinary fashion. Desiring disunion, quadrants of space segmented off from one another. “Darling, would you say that your vision is different here?” Priya asked, turning towards her. A hairy tarantula looked back, its compound eyes delicate like a lady’s, its legs slender, adolescent. “Ahh!” shouted the other spider in fright, dancing for a bit before coming to terms with her own evolution. “If we are going to be like this, promise me you won’t tell anyone” she pleaded while waving her front legs to-and-fro. “Darling, believe me, when we get back, my fangs are sealed,” she assured her. Gradually, the air around them became fertile with sound – cordial, cyclical, resonating to the rafters. “Mom, this is classical,” the delicate one discerned excitedly. Posh night-on-the-towners had disguised themselves as aristocrats, and they were really posh-ing it up to the furthest posh-able extent. Behind them the oblivious conductor swung his baton, unfettered by the constraints of typical life and the cold-blooded science that underlies it. “Let’s crawl down to the ground really quick and make our way out of here” the younger counseled. Slowly they made their way down the music-sheet. For a moment the air was still, and they looked around thinking, “What is this shadow?” until the conductor, seeing their sneaky endeavors leant back his hand, and with a merciless blow snapped his baton against the paper. Folded into a surface, the two of them plopped onto the ground. Priya stretched herself and blinked profusely, as blinking had become much more of a labor with eight eyes. Around them, the ground was made of overlapping music sheets. Noticing the landscape, patterns of ink and absence made blinking a calming, hushing thing. Doves escaped en masse from the canopies of the surrounding trees and made their way into a tin of sour cream. Turning onto its side, it rolled towards them, and inside was solid sour cream solidified from the doves, and it molded itself into the porcelain face of a woman. “How are you getting in so often? Ah … this town is becoming a tourist trap” she complained. Nearby a roman statue of a woman moved to the whimper of the music. For a minute Priya was distracted by the hypnotic effect of her ornaments.
Annoyed, the delicate youngster cried, “That art is disrespectful!” and scuttled over to the statue, pushing it over. Fragments of marble scattered across the black and white polka-dot ground.
“Snow! What has gotten into you?” Priya protested.
Sliding out of its container the porcelain head examined the jumbled wreckage, “Don’t worry, it’s not like a priceless antique or anything”. Priya rolled all eight of her eyes. “What precisely is your name, if you don’t mind me asking?” Snow inquired. “Hank-Helga. I suppose you all came here to see the Violin Club … it’s at the center of town” the tin, bobbing appropriately added. “Hmm … why did your parents give you both a boy and a girl name” she pried. “They didn’t know what I would be, so they thought to cover both bases. Are you done with the personal questions?” Hank-Helga retorted. “Oh, there is more where that came from”
Snow teased as they angled towards a path that would bring them to town. Picked up by a passing breeze, the music sheets fluttered by, accenting a sign beaming its tonic in neon light. By the way, Hank-Helga insisted that they stop at an outlet liquor store. A friendly sculptor by the entrance spoke to the porcelain head, and by her request tapped her nose with his hammer and chisel, sending cracks across its surface for it to break apart, eggshells of porcelain littering the ground. Hank-Helga appeared as the dust settled to the ground and shrouded the prose below their feet. She had short gray hair and tattoos of doves and sour cream and porcelain heads.
Inside security cameras swiveled along the sides of the walls. “Don’t look their way,” she warned. A wine sampler told them as he poured them a glass of how he escaped from an island of connoisseurs, and of how their wine was made of holograms … so it didn’t really matter. “I didn’t know bugs had a taste for wine” he noted as he poured Priya’s glass to the very top.
“Humid Delay was his name, if I recall” Hank-Helga mentioned as they browsed another aisle.
“I’ve seen a lot of tourists in my day, but I have to admit to you that I had an ulterior motive, my friends,” their guide broke to them gently, “this is probably the most fortified store in the city, and only the best escape”. She pointed up above them, to a wine bottle, and saw it floating towards the cupola, evading the security cameras. Extending a telescope, Hank-Helga peered through and tracked the progress of the bottle until it found a very loose section in the ceiling for its escape, “Getting into the club will be easy if you nab me some of those ''. Priya and Snow made their way up a wall to the ceiling, past the visages of classical art, weaving a web to catch the most cunning varieties, trapping them like flies, and wrapped them in silk for safekeeping.
“By the way, my real name is Helga-Hank'' she revealed halfheartedly, before loading a bundle into a backpack and zipping it up. When they left the front door, the delicate spider turned to the larger, hairier one, “It’s really a bummer today, I'm tired of being a spider”. Behind them the door gave off its signature clack. The three of them turned around as the connoisseur stood in the threshold, boldly intruding on their conversation, “Sometimes you can just swish it around”. In his hand he held a glass of wine, its cherry hue not staining it, but leaving it glossy and savagely opaque. “Swish around what?” Snow asked, a little flummoxed by the tangent. Humid Delay smiled in a way that would make trapeze artists lose their balance and slurped a meager portion of wine, “The day”. Moving the glass in a tight circle, the liquid within became a vortex, and the world around them did the same, the particles of the hallucination tumbling all over the place.
Priya opened her eyes to see that they were in the midst of the heart of the city. “My body!” her daughter exclaimed, seeing that they had both resumed their former evolutionary shapes. And so they roved the streets, where crowds frothed about, passing locals who wore oven mittens on their heads. Each had an oval cut out for their faces. “Don’t even think about pulling off those mittens,” Priya warned her daughter. By the curb a man bought a piece of pink chewing gum from a newspaper salesman and tossed it into his mouth, blowing a bubble that became a pink car, and ushered his family inside. It rode away down the endless street and did not pop. Noticing an approaching danger, Helga-Hank pushed them under an overhang as a big oven mitten filled with a hydra of snakes passed by. It was really just snake mitten ambassador traveling downtown
on his official duties, but they didn’t know that. As the scary thing passed, they revealed themselves from the safety of the overhang. “Whew, talk about a guy that needs a makeover”
Echo whispered, as the safety of the moment returned. Following their guide, a procession brought them to a district gilded with purposeful bronze. Lines of the crowd were roped off around a Violin the size of a stage that must have been shined that very morning. Escorted, they came to the front of the line. From within they could hear the pounding of dance music.
Swaggering over to the Violin, Snow peered into the F-Holes and turned back towards her. “If there’s anyone that deserves to let off a little steam, it’s me,” she boasted. Convinced by the sentiment, Priya let her reservations subside and likewise looked down into the party, seeing it full of dancers, all of them in cool leather getups. Nobody wore mitten hats, and all of their faces were quite clear. Looking back one last time, she could see in the tired evening sky the hopelessness of fool’s gold. The distant roar of applause could be heard emanating from even far away as yoyos glided through the clouds. Their tricks were totally sick and they could do “walk-the-dog". Grabbing her arm, Snow led her into the Violin Club and they danced, letting the club-hoppers bounce off of them. “Watch me swish!” Snow exclaimed, and the others circled around as she unleashed some frosty dance moves … until time whirled and the moment melted and they were back in the room just seconds before their arrival.
The light from outside the window cast itself languidly onto the furniture. Their minute patterns became decipherable, tiny indentations of cushioning. Frays of threads that would linger, unnoticed. Speckles of crumbs of dust. A moth hunted for enigmatic loci of light and shadow in the hills of a couch seat. “For the sake of time, I think it’s best if we split up to cover more ground” Priya submitted, until her daughter relented. In the next honeysuckle room, she came upon a box containing an entomology collection, long pins spearing long-dead butterflies.
Moving closer, the pins became towers, and the nearer towards it, the more of a city it became.
Light generated by the beating of the butterfly wings ignited the windows of the towers. Rising in an elevator to the ball-like crown of the pin, she came upon a distinguished sixty-something in his estate, and they had a long talk, although he didn’t believe much of what she reminisced of.
Afterwards the traveler attended an auction in the neighboring pin-tower, winning a volume of a much-rumored book.
When she returned, the room was empty, save for a few scampering squirrels exploring the contents of kitchen cabinets. “Do you really want to play hide and seek again!” Priya called fretfully, her voice bouncing off the tapestried walls to no avail. Certainly, her youngling must be occupied in another room where she had not cared to look before. Priya headed up the stairs and to the left, checking the rooms for signs of the runaway. Thoughts whispered from days of the past, appearing out of thin air. Sam had been very spiffy in his brown blazer, and at the time the sight of him was like a subtle virus infecting her dreams. She would have devoured fate to be with him. “Oh, goodness!” Priya blurted. With all that had happened so recently, the detail of finding a way to free him from his tomb had fallen out of favor. “Mom, are you spying on me!”
Snow called, throwing the accusation out into the hall. The scientist turned the corner and pushed the door open into the bathroom. Snow laughed brazenly as she was hard at work giving George a bubble-bath. The little guy looked so content with his gray fur covered in bubbles. “There you are. I was worried about you” Priya huffed. “I decided to take a break to help my squirrel with his bath-time. He’s my new best friend” she said, scrubbing his coat with glee. “Where have I seen this before?” Priya thought as the implication washed over her. “No!” she cried, but it was too late ... as a pulse of energy cascaded through the room. Moments later the little guy’s head
bobbed down, as if fainted. Frantically the runaway shook him in her hands, drawing her head near to listen, but even in his eyes she could see nothing but false color, and he reclined across her palm, limp like a ragdoll. “Do you even realize what you did!” her mother scolded. Panic stricken, Snow lay the squirrel on the counter and wiped the clusters of bubbles from her hands onto the ledge of the bathtub, “What just happened?”. Priya took a long deep breath before relating to her the mistake, and its awesome consequences, “Be careful. This new turbulence is unlike anything we’ve encountered before. With such a small coincidence … my dear … there’s no way you could have seen it … unless you were me. I’m sorry. From now on, you have to think about the consequences. Look at George, he enjoyed the bubble bath so much his mind astral projected out of his body. It will descend through time, going back into the past until finding a home in Kyloptos Rama. That’s how he was driven mad and started his reign of terror”.
Snow began to cry, until the scientist wrapped her arms around. “I didn’t know it would be like this, '' she wailed. “Snow, hide him right here and we’ll come back later. Kyloptos … this was just an accident, but now I'm responsible. I promise that one day I'll return and find you in that pyramid, and grant you a second chance” she swore.
“Mom… I want to take another shot at that used car” the giddy patron confessed. Her mom wiped sweat off her forehead at the suggestion, but agreed just to humor the request.
Tasting nectar from the same cluster, they returned back to the first stop on their journey. Snowie was eager to greet them again. Showing off a phony wristwatch, she led them into the same model as before. “Like lambs to the slaughter” Priya heard her think telepathically. For a time, they continued down the same road that ran parallel to the city. The driver began to grow restless and turned to the salesman, “Where does this road lead?” she wondered. “Pretty soon we’ll have to turn back. This one dead ends at the bridge. It was supposed to stretch over Bishop’s river, but the city wasted so much of the budget, the project was never completed” Snowie cautioned them.
“I can see it coming up” the driver exclaimed as tiny lion bubbles smacked into the front glass.
The salesman activated the window wipers to push them off. “Darling, I think it would be a good idea to turn around now” Priya advised, instinctively touching her seat belt to ensure it was fastened. Roaring into life, the car jerked forward. “We’ll just turn around once we get to the end,” Snow replied. Stretches of concrete became vague as the car accelerated to its breaking point. The gaping mouth of the bridge grew closer as they were thrust back against their seats.
Priya jerked the driver’s seat from behind as Snowie smacked her shoulder. “We’re at the end now!” she yelped. In the rear-view mirror, the scientist could see a droll grin spread across her daughter’s face, and at that moment knew it was too late. Crossing the mouth, the vehicle shot up the incline and towards the severed end of the bridge. Looking out the window, Priya could see the river below, rippling with fear. Then the hunk of metal arced down, and by some stroke of rich, unfathomable luck landed on the concrete of the other side. Snowie didn’t talk for a minute.
Inhaling and exhaling laboriously, she eventually realized that yes, she was still alive, and yanked the keys out of the ignition. Needless to say, they were both left at the curb as the sale careened away.
“What on earth has gotten into you!” Priya admonished as soon as they were back in the room. “Didn’t you like that? I think we should go a second time” Snow insisted, climbing onto the couch. Her mother stood there speechless, remembering how only recently her parents had walked into her room and witnessed a similar scene. “Get down from there” she demanded. With a seal the patron summoned in her hands a car tire, and shrunk its size, placing it on her head, turning it into a hat with magic. From the background a screeching sound could be heard, “Do
you think they’ll have more fun with three wheels?”. “That’s enough. Get off” her mother reiterated. Disregarding that statement, the runaway tore a honeysuckle vine off the wall and began waving it like a whip, “You’re overreacting!”. For the first time in her life, Priya felt like a beast facing a lion tamer. The scientist felt a bitter taste in her mouth, and turned around, stamping out of the room. When she got to the door of the house, she slammed the door behind her, walking down the driveway and onto the grass. Anger muffled her like an itchy sweater and only got hotter and hotter. “What is wrong with that kid? I’m going back in there and setting things straight” she thought. But on the way back she glanced down, seeing the gnome that lay in the grass, staring up at her with its doe-ish lifeless eyes. “No … she’s not a kid anymore. I have to give her space” the patron realized … although it contradicted all of her instincts, even the primal ones. Inside the house the girl continued to run her hands over the vines that covered the walls, until peering one that caught her eye, glinting curiously. “Here you are '' Snow whispered, and plucked the blossom. A little orb of nectar dangled from that slender thread. Waiting patiently, she let it drop onto her tongue. When it was over, Snow returned to the room and saw the living room mirror, her every feature in disarray, her hair frizzy and torn. Searching through memory, she could see the young cityscape of New Allium, and was drawn to it. “What is that now?” Priya yelped, pressing a hand to her chest. Crossing the boundary of the corona the body of the patron was downloaded, and she came upon the planet in the digital. Looming above it was its moon, but it had shrunk to such a degree that it was no bigger than a small city. Landing on the surface, the patron implanted herself in the grainy, pixelated chalk of the easy soil.
Ripening, it became layered like an onion, and as those below in New Allium saw it, and craned their necks, their faces became red and wet, and from each of their eyes came tear-drops that flocked upwards through the atmosphere. From within the innermost concentric circle Snow emerged and was reborn, “I am a good synthesis”. Above New Allium the layers of the moon separated into their constituent parts, as the multitude of lunar rings found new orbits around the world. Pulled into the outer place, she landed on the front lawn. “What am I supposed to call you now?” Priya asked, seeing her lay there and stare up with the eyes of that vessel, where there was once so many worlds in so many layers. But they were beautiful eyes, with life still stirring inside … not anything like the other ones. “I’ll tell you when I think of it” she smiled wickedly.
Extending her hand, Priya pulled her daughter to her feet, and they both traced a path down the driveway, back to where their friends must have been waiting all that morning near the hotel.