The Escape

[MystyrMystyry]

Quinenythton


chap one


Imagine, if you will, a city, a sprawling city, a sprawling ancient city where the inhabitants have an enforced appreciation of their heritage. In the centre the remains and ruins of the original village settlement, and in concentric circles billowing outward as ripples in a pond, the contribution of each consecutive age.
Now imagine three meandering rivers slicing their merry incessant way through the middle of it, these rivers being the reason the village became established in the first place.
And now for a stretch - imagine this city not on a flat plane, but rather enclosed in a bubble, it's own bubble to be sure, but a bubble nevertheless.
It is so for - and it's a big for - for it is the city where space, time, and convolvo meet.
What, I don't hear you ask, is a bloody convolvo?
To obtain an explanation let's visit our old enemy, physics.
Sound waves, cranked up a notch, become radio waves, cranked a little further, they become light waves, which cranked again become gamma waves. Cranky gamma waves.
So it is with dimensions. We're all familiar with the first three (height, breadth, width) constituting space, the fourth (time) constituting time, the fifth, well there - what of the fifth?
The fifth constitutes the convolvo.
Satisfied?
No? Well neither am I, but it's the best I can do.
Hang on - I've got it: imagine purchasing a Swedish family sedan on the merits of its safety, and driving it out of the showroom straight into a head-on collision between two large Swedish trucks, and being squished so efficiently the mere concept of dead is hardly adequate.
That's a convolvo.
And the citizens are proud of it.
So anyway, the three rivers meet in the centre and flow both in and out, and everything's peachy.
But something bizarre is about to happen.

'Good evening,' Uplift Bra cheerily waves to her neighbour, Purest Evilitude. 'Clear orange sky today, isn't it?'

I should interrupt briefly to explain something else - well a few things actually.
To begin with, in Quinenythton evening precedes morning in importance - always has, always will, and so the expression: 'Good evening.'
From the outsider's perspective so to speak, the names of the denizens would, at first encounter, seem rather odd. The moniker Uplift Bra refers not to the size of her breasts but rather the shape of her ankles. Similarly Purest Evilitude is from the ancient Quinenythton tongue, and the literal translation is closer to Love Monster.
Finally, the sky is orange unless cloudy, the oceans are sweet and may be ultraviolet or infrared, depending entirely upon which side of the jetty one chooses to glance, and everything is always in harsh sharp half-shadow.

Startled, Purest Evilitude drops his plain pink-wrapped package of dirty books, which consist largely of photographs of female ankles, arches, a few toes*, and returns: 'Ah yes indeed. A wonderful night looms.'
'Do you have the place?' she asks him.
'I have the place-time,' he says, 'if you have the convolvulus...'
The pair frown seriously at his joke, as he hastily deposits the package in his letterbox, and hops the fence.
'Fancy a pot of coffee?' she smiles saltily, and winks a wink loaded with meaning.
'Oh yes,' he rubs his foot against the garden hose in preparation.

Pardon me again - as bizarre as this is, it isn't the bizarre thing.

Rather the bizarre thing is the arrival, unobserved, of the Prime Minister; not the fact that he is unobserved, but the fact that, at least to everyone's knowledge, he didn't make housecalls.
''Ello Purest,' he chirps. ''Ello Uplift. Got a job fa yas.'
'Hi,' Purest stammers. 'What job?'
Uplift Bra nods acknowledgement of their first male prime minister in a century, and first Rasplgcmty** in four.
'Yas like yas lifestyles 'ere I trust?' he says somewhat airily. 'Well as yas must be given ta unnerstand if yas don't already, occasion'ly yas gotta do somethin' ta protect it...'
'Ah,' says Uplift. 'What's the problem, and what are you proposing?'
'Well, it's only a minor think, but th' nards seem ta've become more'n usually aggro.'
'Aggravated or aggresive?'
'Both,' he says. 'Anyway I got one a th' scientists ta earn 'is pay an' look inta it, and ta cut a long story one a 'is colleagues in another department by chance over'eard us in discussion an' stuck 'is 'ead in the door - it's a prophecy is wot I'm gettin' at.'
'Really?' says Purest. 'We haven't had one of them for a while...'
'Never - at least not's far's anybody can tell...'
'Continue,' Uplift urges him.
'So th' committee has chosen yas, an' that's all there is to it.'
'Two questions,' says Purest. 'Why us, and does this mean we have to leave the bubble?'
'The Myryns an' the Choinks an th' Yuddles refuse to do it cos they's all gutless,' he stares forlornly. 'There's nobody else can do it. It's been prophecised. And yes...'
'Oh,' says Uplift. 'Damn. But why us in particular?/'
'Yas's here, ain't yas?'
'Hmm. When?'
'Yas leaves tomorrer.'
'No way out?'
'None.'
'I suppose you'd better fill us in then,' says Purest.

So there it is.
Tomorrow, like morning and evening, is an unusual concept for the average Quinenythtonion insofar as their days, including nights, last three of ours, and they don't, strictly speaking, have a sun.
It was stolen.

The Prime Minister explains the details as best he knows them - which isn't well, which takes all of two minutes including much umming and ahing, and answers to any further queries can be found on this sorry grubby sheet, and supplies a pocketknife apiece and a map of the outlying regions as best as they'd been charted, telling them they can fill in some of the gaps while they are at it.

[hillwalker]

The opening line of this reminds me for some reason of Mervyn Peake's 'Gormenghast'. I couldn't be bothered to read that either - a melange of horrible words and grotesque characters.

That's not to say it's not well-written, but I really don't feel the urge to explore further.

h

EDIT : This was posted before the entry was edited - and changed fundamentally. Still not my preferred reading, but it has improved technically.

[MystyrMystyry]

chap two


Purest reads:

According to Klony's prophecy, when the planets align there will be hell to pay. Someone's got to gather the three keys from The Forbidden Regions and unlock the three gates in The Darkest Regions. This to allow some of the build-up to escape.

'That's it!' he exclaims.
'I guess so,' shrugs the Prime Minister.
'The Forbidden Regions!' gasps Uplift. 'The Darkest Regions!'
'Er, yeah,' says the Prime Minister.
'What build-up?' asks Purest.
'Well, gotta go!' he claps his hands. 'Lots a thinks ta do, like runnin' th' place. Good luck - an' don't forget ta write!'
He vanishes from the corner of their eyes.
'I neglected to inform him of my own personal gutlessness and cowardice,' says Purest.
'What's that on the other side?' Uplift points.
'Where?' Purest flips it. 'Oh. I think it best if you don't tell them what the build-up is.'
'Hmmm,' she muses over the words. 'I think we have a right to know.'
'I suppose we'll find out when we get there,' says Purest.
'Still want that coffee?'
'You bet!'


chap three


The next morning, bags at the ready, while they wait for their taxi to arrive, any misgivings they may have had are washed away with the rain.
'You're sure you remembered to book it?' Uplift asks Purest.
'Distinctly,' Purest lies owing to the early hour i.e. morning.
'Taxi!' cries the cab driver.
'Excellent,' Purest says, and continues muttering to himself: 'I didn't dream it.'
'I'll also be your guide for the first three miles,' the driver tells them the second they board. 'Name's Max.'
'How do you do?' they say, and give theirs.
'What do you mean guide?' Uplift enquires of him.
'Only as far as the first three miles,' he smiles amiably. 'After that you're on your own.'
'You're saying,' Purest starts, 'that we have to walk the first three miles?'
'And the rest as well,' he says, 'but you needn't walk the first three, no.'
'Why not?'
'I can drive you,' he explains. 'But after you'll find you've run out of road.'
'So effectively,' says Uplift, 'you won't so much be our guide at all, but rather our taxi driver - just like our taxi driver you are now?'
'Effectively,' he says. 'Effectively yes.'
'Oh Gods,' sighs Purest, the misgivings flooding back.


chap four


Purest looks at the map the taxidriver had given him prior to departure.
'This map has holes in it,' he tells Uplift.
'Both sorts,' she observes.
'True,' he acknowldges. 'This bit for example, it looks as though it's been torn out on purpose.'
'I get the feeling we're being shafted,' she tells him honestly.
'Speaking of which,' he prompts. 'Would you fancy a little of my old tendril?'
'Oh yes,' she says, and they do.


chap five


'Hello,' says a hollow voice, a hollow yet wet voice, a wet voice spit-spraying them.
'Hello,' they attempt to wipe away their drenching, turning to greet him.
'Well?' the bearded gargoyle enquires his rain storm, and nothing more.
'Well??' they proffer their reply.
'Well for the minimum amount of money?' he says, presenting a greasy paw.
'You're a Yoorabdle aren't you?' asks Uplift. 'Odd, because you're usually a mob of yabbering baboons...'
'Times are tough,' he says. 'We all charge for our services these lunchtimes.'
'Ah,' acknowledges Purest. 'Perhaps if we come back after..?'
'That won't do at all. I may not be here then - nor will here for that matter.'
'Do you know something we don't?' Purest reaches into his pocket to produce a paper bill of smallest denomination.
'Probably many things,' he tells them, snatching it from him. 'Especially considering how much I do know.'
'Then you can be our guide,' says Uplift.
'Perhaps,' he shakes his head. 'It'll cost more though. Startled Passersby.'
'Startled Passersby?'
'My name,' he holds out a finger-wiggling hand.
'Oh,' Purest obliges with two of the afore-mentioned.
'What's this?' he blinks at the notes.
'Your fee...'
'But I haven't decided yet.'
'Can you hurry to? We're rather anxious to get this over with.'
'Done,' Startled accepts. 'Where to first?'
'First up,' says Uplift. 'The Forbidden Regions, followed by The Darkest Regions.'
'O-o-o-o-kay,' Startled considers it cautiously. 'I guess.'
'Which way?' Purest asks him.
'Eh? You want to go now? Immediately?'
'Sure. Why not?'
'Ummm... No reason. Just wondering whether I had anything else on...'
'So?' says Uplift.
'I would suggest our best plan would be to visit Omnipotent Narrator.'

[Rem]

Interesting.

Humorous, to be sure, and reminds me a bit of the original Douglas Adams. I quite enjoyed the description at the beginning but have to admit that it got rather convoluted after that (which I presume was the intention). I look forward to reading more.

[everyadventure]

MystyrMystyry, you are aptly named.

Reminded me greatly of The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I am not fond of that book because I had to read it in high school and got in a horrid argument with the teacher about it and was consequently kicked out of the class for the remainder of the trimester... but that's another story.

[Jack of Hearts]

It's a bit of a dead fish. Mostly it's situational comedy expressed through banter which is really the focus of the piece. Were your wit to be refined it would be quite a force to reckon with- some elments of the humor are expert, for lacknof a better word. As it stands this work is half interesting and half uninspired.




J

[MystyrMystyry]

chap six


'Omnipotent Narrator?' blurts Uplift. 'What's that?'
'That,' Startled starts, 'is a he. And he's a he who seems to know just about everything that goes on around here.'
'Oh. And where is he?'
'If we're lucky, in that cottage yonder,' he explains. 'If we're lucky.'
'Why there?' asks Purest.
'That's where he lives.'
'Why if we're lucky?' asks Uplift.
'He might be out.'
'Ah,' they say as one.
There comes a knock at my door, but i do not hurry to answer: i am after all the most harried, harassed and hassled individual i know.
'Enter,' i tell them eventually.
'You the dude who knows everything?' Purest asks me.
'Er yeah,' i supply them. i however do not tell them that i only know everything as it happens, nor that it is not mine, but the power of this present residence that permits this ability. 'Come in.'
'Nice digs,' Uplift tells me. 'Cosy.'
'i suppose,' i say.
'We need your help,' Startled informs the already informed.
'i realise this,' i shuffle my feet akwardly. 'And i'm quite looking forward to it - i'm in much need of an adventure.'
'Oh?'
'Well as nice and cosy as these digs may be,' i say, 'i need an occasional break to appreciate them.'
'Ah,' says Purest. 'We must get the keys from The Forbidden Region.'
'Yep. And the best method would be to find out exactly where they are, yes? And discern the most direct route to them with the minimum amount of fuss.'
'You're the man,' prompts Startled.
'So you'll want me to lead..?'
Just then, dear reader, at the precise second i uttered these words, a very odd feeling came over me - a sensation that i'd lost half my brain.
'i'm not sure how to tell you this,' i begin,' but i suppose i'd better - i suddenly don't know everything anymore.'
'What?' Startled is startled.
'That's it,' i say.
'But if this is true, what use are you?'
'i'd still like the adventure,' i tell them. 'Besides, the half may return.'
'You won't be a hindrance?' Uplift checks semi-rhetorically.
'Not unless you want me to be.'