by Tom Schimmel
That next morning, the man found his inspiration daydreaming in the warm sand of Bla’s terrarium. Gazing at the ceiling five kilometers above, the man envisioned an entire planet machine functioning as a set for his next movie. It was a silly idea really. He was never going to make movies. Bla had assured him that the Imperial Army was indeed about to return to Troleve and complete the network. The man had already chosen in his mind to die; and was lost now in a creative reverie. If life like this were to end, there would be no point in continuing. He was exceedingly grateful to have had this time to spend with Bla; and had expressed his heartfelt gratitude each and every night of his stay with his enormous friend.
Now, his intelligence wandered. Free for the last time to imagine, his mind’s eye pictured scores of dolphins somersaulting thought the air and plunging back into their blue ocean. He envisioned human actors living lives far removed from computers. In this empyrean of his thoughts, this reverie of creative bliss, he saw they were happy.
Moments later Zymphonomous Bla recorded its message to the director, let out a large sigh of relief, and died.
CHAPTER SEVEN
There Is No Dog
Discussions of things like the pyramids have carried into what most humans on modern Earth call the twenty-first century. It is not in any way peculiar that this would be the case. No one in the twenty-first century really knows how these colossal icosahedra were developed. Schoolchildren are taught about the pharaohs who became mummies and were discovered by the British in the nineteenth century. Curses of Tutankhamen were collectively feared by those in touch with the excavation. Skeptics, of course, proclaimed that there was not even a coincidence. A skeptic, in extreme form, ignores the fruits of skepticism.
Commonly among the coursework of young school children on modern Earth is the historical concept of slavery. Sinister egos of Egyptian rulers enslaved an entire population of mushroom tips, their mates, and their offspring. Somehow, the legend contends, the ruthless architects were able to beat them enough that they found strength to lift large boulders to very tall places. Truly, the theory is abundant. A modern Earth scientist from the country of France earned news headlines when he proposed a scaffolding design which accepted the inward sloping verticality of the pyramid’s construction. Less recently than Jean Pierre Houdin’s theory was that of the late author Kurt Vonnegut. With a simple wit which suggested a reincarnation of Mark Twain, Mr. Vonnegut proposed simply that the Egyptians were able to build their pyramids because gravitational force in that ancient time had been less than the present day. Slaves could carry stones in each hand, like a restaurant server portaging trays. Vonnegut’s theory was far closer to the truth; and carries with it the lingering suggestion that not only gravity, but also time and space may have fluctuated over time in their intensity. Still, the Nommos are an amphibious race. Had ancient Egypt been desert, they would have chosen a different location. The Egyptian empire, with its hieroglyphs and impossible structures, is certainly cause for mystery. It may be a mistake to assume that it was the Egyptians themselves who created this intensely detailed system of pictograms. Compared to the English Roman alphabet of twenty-six mundane letters; hieroglyphs suggest a power of written communication superior to any common form on modern Earth.
The imagination bridges the hypothetical to the factual with fascinating possibilities. Even on modern Earth, where technology is sharp, the mysteries unfold like circus mirrors. Distorting and then replicating the distortion before bouncing back into further illusion.
Imagination will advise that the Egyptian pyramids are a dormant star gate which requires both an ability to read the instructions within; and also, a lot of water. Science fiction on modern Earth claims a number of wormhole scenarios; but few, if any, acknowledge the necessity of water. A deluge to place below the surface, the tips of these four-dimensional triangles which point with stunning accuracy to Sirius A, B, and C.
Neither Kurt Vonnegut nor Jean Pierre Houdin has any written idea on how the pyramid stones were quarried in the first place. Unfortunately, because of the existence on modern Earth of things like surface-to-air missiles, the Nommos do not drop in to verify that the stones were cut from ocean shale with high-powered lasers. Nor can they confirm or deny the postulation that their telekinetic ability made short work of these confusing erections.
Who was this Ramses? What was the purpose of the Sphinx? The questions abound on modern Earth. Truly it is an easier life to crawl into a cube, sleep, and get paid well. Speculation, by popular belief, is better utilized in things like the stock market. Fortunately, concepts on modern Earth grow popular rather than becoming universally accepted as true. Modern Earth has nasty words like cult, to identify harmful homogonous guesswork.
The imagination has the advantage of being free from the specific provisions of factual evidence; although its credibility benefits from them tremendously. Here is an example. The Nommos of the surviving solar system of Sirius A found themselves consumed with guilt over an event completely beyond their control. Their guilt could not be assuaged by the burnt ones. Circumstance had dictated their unplanned departure. It was an open wound among the water-dwellers. Their adjustment to the pain included a strong collective impulse to help others. The Nommos visited Earth to lessen the pain of the primates.
The pharaohs of ancient Egypt had been fortunate to receive their status from the genetic science of the water-dwellers. The most capable codes were favored, and a number of tall and lithe men found themselves presiding over a dynasty whose waters had receded. Their egos required slavery and obedience; and their powers were formidable. However, their love of power betrayed the side of them which was not amphibious. While they were not themselves circumcised, the Nommos had taken care to install countermeasures in the slave population. The mental prowess of Musa succeeded in destroying most of Egypt before liberating the prisoners of situation. Mushroom tips again roamed free in new, fertile lands.
The leaders of the pickle dicks, when faced with the loss of their slaves, behaved in a manner similar to any other primate species on Earth which has had its DNA reconfigured by aliens. The Sphinx meanwhile, was carved by lasers longs ago. Within the last hundred years, its nose had been removed in a frustrated epiphany of artillery by a soldier of the Third Reich. The soldier, along with his unsupervised fellow Nazis and their French enemies had chosen for a short time to give up trying to kill one another and just get drunk. Boys will be boys, and drunk boys with big guns will always find something to shoot. Kings of ancient Egypt gained specific instruction on how to embalm and preserve their bodies for interstellar transport to the Sirius star system. Their ornate egos were easily led to spend their later lives constructing elaborate tombs within the pyramids. With all the riches and advantages of Egyptian technology, they felt certain to ascend to further greatness.
They were mistaken. It is the same with any human on Earth who takes himself or herself too seriously. There is no ultimate knowledge of the universe which could be processed by the human brain. Zymphonomous Bla in ancient Andromeda was formidable in its ability to see, create, and comprehend; but even his slice of awareness pie was very thin. God has become – on modern Earth – a very difficult term as more and more levels of awareness are being discovered every day. Zymphonomous Bla was a very lucky being. A fact it often acknowledged to itself and to the larger universe. A million years would pass before those on Earth would actively gather to praise the forces they recognized to be far beyond their own capabilities. Words offered to these forces were an acquiescence of dominance, which would eventually emerge as prayer. Thank you for saving my life. And so on.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The Ice Age Cometh
Due to past complications, reptiles of any significant size or magnitude are no longer allowed on Planet Earth. Plain and simple, that is the rule. Large reptiles of any kind do not belong on a movie set. And neither does a film director if he doesn’t know where he is.
It was over a billion years
ago when the Director received a thirty-second hologram from Zymphonomous Bla which told him so long, thanks, enjoy your new home, and try to relax. Then a large whooshing darkness sucked him into what seemed like oblivion until he woke up and everything was dark.
Large reptiles – especially the ancient ones – do not have a concept of fear. The director was a human. He didn’t know anything about wormholes. He didn’t know where he was. He was afraid of the dark, and so began doing what most any human would do in complete darkness. He freaked out.
Descriptions of panic include trembling, shivering, quaking, yelling, crying, flailing, howling, thrashing about; and of course, throwing the highly embarrassing hissy fit. The man performed these expressions equally, and with sheer dread.
He thought the Imperial Army of Andromeda had come, and he was already dead. If this was the afterlife, it was terrifying. Mercifully the human body can only handle the intensity of trepidation for short bursts. Then the robot must recharge. Finally, his batteries ran down and he collapsed in an exhausted and fitful dream state.
While his robot lay in the dark, the director’s delta and theta waves tapped into a world beyond material dimension. He was a child, wandering down foggy hallways full of adults. No one knew who he was. Their faces would beckon him closer, and then turn away in disappointment. When he woke from his nightmare of frustration, he felt empty inside. His surroundings were still dark, but his panic was subdued. He regained his wits and began to use his sense of touch and ability to think critically. The floor was soft and comfortable. Too supple and pleasant, reasoned the man in the dark, to be hostile. With that in mind, he began worming his way slowly in different directions. There must be a light switch here somewhere.
Crawling around in the dark was slow and tremendously frustrating. The prisoners of Ourfolk Nine were glued to the screen, snarfing back their laughter as the man bumped into this chair and that console. They had the advantage of infra-red cameras. While the director’s audience had been discomfited by his earlier hissy fit; his new found determination was quite hilarious and went on for hours until a snapping point was inevitable. They clutched their stomachs and silently chortled as the man began cursing everything he thought he knew about life. And then his brain offered a potential solution which, in this dark situation, might be worth a shot.
Garnering his body in a classic pose of frustrated agony, the man stood. Arms outstretched and head thrown back, the director inhaled deeply and screamed “LIGHTS!!!”
Not long after, planet Earth was humming along in what modern archeologists would call the Cambrian Age. Land was bare. Seas were warm. Jawless fish slurped up clouds of algae and bacterium. Trilobites scuttled about the ocean sands. Earth was a reconstructive motion machine. Life on Earth had begun. Zymphonomous Bla had been looking out for him alright. When the man had adjusted to what he was seeing, a hologram appeared from his friend to explain it all. The collapse of the Imperial Army; the end of the SAIM; how to use the equipment; where the bathroom was; and how he would eat and drink. The thing about the lights was just a little practical joke meant largely to please his audience. The director was amused. Eventually.
Reptiles first found their way to Earth during a time that modern archeologists call the Carboniferous Period of the Paleozoic Era. The reptiles involved had no idea they were part of Carboniferous history. They just knew there was a lot to eat. Earth was delicious.
By this point, swampland had developed, playing host to tender amphibians and enormous juicy insects. Dinosaurs of all sizes ate very well. The oceans meanwhile had grown abundant with shrimp and trilobites. The Ichthyosaurs and Plesiosaurs who would later evolve into dolphins and sea lions ate their fill anytime they pleased. Word got around, as it does.
There was also the Mosasaur. These types, like many of the carnivorous dinosaurs, were neither pleasant nor peaceful. There was no competition for giant sea lizards in the oceans. They were at the top of the food chain. It was a twenty-four/seven all-you-can-eat seafood buffet. Large flying reptiles also roared the skies of Planet Earth; but their populations declined steadily when the early humans learned to fight them. After losing his eldest son to a swooping pterodactyl, Caveman Ugg threw rocks and spears to knock the creatures from the sky. Their efforts were enough to defend his family and reduce the local population of child-eaters. Caveman Ugg held high status for his surface-to-air weaponry.
The director had considered making modern weapons available to these early humans. Their suffering and loss from attack was also his. Fortunately the prisoners of Ourfolk Nine were able to talk some sense into him. Had the director given Ugg and his family the technology of automatic shotguns and rocket-propelled grenades; there would not be anything large enough in the fossil records for modern archeologists to interpret as the skeletons of dragons and pterodactyls. Besides, the tribe of Ugg may have hurt themselves.
Far into the future and much closer to the present moment, Stanly Pottles eventually figured out that the smell of poop in the garage was emanating from his Shop-Vac. A thick, ripe sludge had formed in the canister, prompting him to wear gloves and a snorkeling mask as he hosed the dark mush into the backyard shrubs. His ordeal required dish soap and a quart of lemon-scented bleach to finally purge the lingering odor. As Mr. Pottles would report to the family that night over dinner, “It looked like gravy and it smelt like shit!”
This was not, of course, an insult to his wife’s fine cooking; but a reference to the turd water of his son Raymond, which had been blended with a fine roux of sawdust and left to thicken. Both parents had giggled when Raymond explained that he had gotten the idea from the television commercial for Shop-Vacs. Mrs. Pottles giggled more than her husband Stanley. That’s because she didn’t have to clean it up.
Raymond Pottles is a true Earth human. He is a gentle mammal. Raymond likes listening to French pop music in cyberspace. As of a result of his exposure to French pop music, young Raymond Pottles prefers to be called “R’monde”, with the same spelling. His mother and father both humor him. They think it’s cute.
Reptiles don’t think things are cute. Cute is strictly for mammals. Reptiles have armored exteriors, toxic venoms, and nasty teeth. They do not maintain a specific body temperature. Many have sensory organs which are not present in mammals. Designed with harsh survival in mind, they are children of the burnt ones. Those ancient ones who remain alive maintain extraordinary physical and mental powers. Their scaled hides can survive open space and they understand the quantum mechanics of teleportation. Most importantly, they fear nothing. Soon after Life on Earth began, the ancient reptiles used the new planet as a hatchery.
Many Earth years before internet radio and pop music and even France itself; the director chose to reboot the land sequence of Life on Earth. At the time, there was much ocean and little land. Resident dinosaurs were causing massive environmental catastrophe.
A trio of teenage Triceratops could trample a forest of tropical trees. A bitchy Brontosaurus could bungle an infant jungle. The dinosaurs had been tolerated peacefully by the man running the show; but now they were trashing the set. They had to go.
Ichthyosaurs and Plesiosaurs who would later evolve into dolphins and sea lions were welcome to stay, along with anything else that could survive underwater. This unfortunately included a ferocious spawn called the Mosasaur.
Before the asteroid collided with Earth, hid the sun, and froze the land; the director created a final scene with a climax of tragic irony. Melodramatic device was staged as a last conversation among the locals. Indeed, the exchange was a desperate plea for survival.
TRAGICALLY IRONIC FINAL SCENE BEFORE THE IMPACT OF AN ASTEROID ON
PLANET EARTH WHICH WILL HIDE THE SUN AND FREEZE THE LAND
gentle green Oviraptor:
“You’re stomping and eating everything! If you don’t stop, there won’t be anything left for anyone! You’ll kill us all!”
big mean Tyrannosaurus Rex: “ULP!”
And so the voice o
f reason was transformed into T-Rex shit. After a short digestive period, the turd of reason dangled in the wind for a fleeting moment before hitting the forest floor. At that moment, with the press of a single button, the ice age arrived. That is why the director is the director.
The three prisoners on Ourfolk Nine were stupendous in their enthusiasm. The scene had all the right ingredients. There was a ruthless protagonist, a hapless victim, impending doom, frantic dialogue, and special effects that were – quite literally - from out of this world. They rose to their feet like the appreciative whiz kids that they were. The smacked their hands together tirelessly. They shouted “Long Live the Director!” loudly and often.
Life on Earth continued its forward path. The director continued to direct. Obviously no human could manually operate all the intricacies of a planet machine. There were far too many details for a mere human. Zymphonomous Bla had designed a computer within the studio to handle the day-to-day affairs. The computer’s name was appropriately titled PLOT.
This name was not an acronym. PLOT was plot.
The following is the way that the late Bla, through one of its many posthumous holograms, explained PLOT to the director:
PLOT was designed to reflect algorithmic principles through multi-faceted crystals. You will find an inestimable capacity here for the generation of life forms. PLOT has been inspired totally by human imagination and genetic memory. Some is mine, some is yours, and some belongs to the former residents of the Andromeda galaxy. As the director, please know that PLOT is always your friend. The interconnected factors on Earth are too numerous for the human brain to process. You will find the forecasting functions to be of great use when you choose to introduce new characters. Take the wheel anytime you want if you think it’s important. It is required by PLOT that the whiz kids review and approve manual overrides. Please understand that you are my friend, and that I have created this governance to assure that your movie will continue. The whiz kids are your best friends now that my time is past. They are your council, your audience, and the guardians of Earth. Entertain them well, and your dream will prosper. Much later in the movie, the ancient reptiles again became a threat. There was a Mosasaur who had survived on the set longer than any living thing. Sitting in the deepest corners of the oceans for millions of years, the Mosasaur has evolved into a vast network of independent brains which conduct business with the rest of Earth telepathically. There was a time or two when humans had discovered and physically confronted this creature; but they had always lost its shadowy form in the mighty depths of water. Humans believed it was the devil itself. They were both correct and deceived, for the devil has many faces. Some called this frightening sea monster by the name Leviathan. As their weapons developed, they succeeded in driving the terror into deepwater seclusion. The monster retaliated by manipulating greedy minds from its dark sanctuary. Its influence has been kept in check by the goodness of human nature; but as humans proliferate, so do the opportunities for deception. Leviathan enjoys misleading these warm-blooded love children.
