Of Space-Time and the Gheorghenis (CAC Edition)

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The heroic Odysseus, a boat, and a galloping white horse.

A long time ago, in a parallel universe, there was a peaceable kingdom...

It always starts like that, doesn't it? And then everything goes south in a hurry. You can imagine the rest for yourself, really. Good king, evil vizier, plots and counterplots, yadda yadda yadda. Then the big blowup.

This one was really big. You might as well call it the Big Bang.

And there was a hole in space-time. Big hole. The irony was, it wasn't caused by the evil vizier. It wasn't caused by evil at all.

It was caused by idiots.

The idiots - who shall remain nameless because that was their punishment, to have their names expunged from the record - tried to build a universe of their own. Long story. Short version - big hole in universe. Giant sucking sound.

Lots of action, no time to think. The Gheorghenis (who used to be the palace guard) leapt into the breach, because leaping into the breach is What They Do. Down the rabbit hole with the lot of us.

Ah - there's a planet. Small blue marble. Haven, maybe. Hope - perhaps. Lotta work for nothing - probably.

Nothing is as it should be. 6,000 years of stinking temporal-causality loop. Praying for the final rewrite - if you could remember who to pray to.

Knowledge of temporospatial engineering comes back in fits and starts - what you call DIT, Direct Information Transfer. Spillage causes culture, arts and 'inspiration'. Everybody tells you your business. Teach your grandfather to suck eggs, monkey-breath.

Much abuse of Akashic Record Library cards by unauthorized personnel who accidentally stumble upon the correspondence-system method of space-time engineering. How are we going to explain all those pyramids? There's going to be hell to pay when we get home...

This time through, Gheorghenis go underground. Way underground, with the Goths. Keep getting spotted, but fortunately not by reliable witnesses. Drunk as a skunk, were we? Seeing leprechauns, what next? Talk to your brain-care specialist about Why Vampires Don't Exist. Join your UFO recovery group. Put a sock in it.

Talk, talk everywhere, and not a thought to think. Lonely, lonely - I liked them better when they were up in the trees. Hell, I even liked it better when we were all doing the time warp back on Asgard and Olympus. At least it made some sort of demented sense. Now you gotta watch 'em make big noises for fun - there goes Hiroshima, whee! - and strand people on rooftops. It's not edifying any more. No redeeming social value.

Talk, talk. What I Believe In. Who gives a flying black hole what you believe in, Binky? It's loving your neighbour that counts. Talk to the wall. Probably the Great Wall of China - who thought that one up? I'm not taking the blame for that.

We all have our problems, I guess. Thanks for letting me get it off my chest.

Even angels get the blues. And we're out of harps.

A spectrum against a black background.

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