The Pope was quite far away and he was hard to see clearly standing in the nasal cavity of a giant skull, but just from his movements I could tell he was a youngish man. Maybe even in his twenties.He had yellow hair, which flopped about, and a big smile full of blindingly white teeth. He wore a brilliant white robe with a flowing golden cape. It could all have been fake — not hard to put on a wig and get some Day-Glo dentures made — but the way he skipped about, waving and blowing kisses to the crowd below, I got the impression this wasn’t someone who was going to come out making Stalinesque speeches about fighting for the Motherland. This was a fun Pope.The crowd shifted closer to the Mega Temple, not done with their shopping, but happy to take a break for some entertainment. And it was entertainment. Horns were blaring, drums were playing, coloured flags were waving, and a team of sub-popes were running around throwing things out of baskets for people to catch.
Arthur looked very dead. He wasn’t breathing, he was cold to the touch, and there was no heartbeat. Which didn’t necessarily mean he was dead. Or that he couldn’t be resuscitated. You can’t think like a normie in these situations, especially when you have the power of healing at your fingertips. The important thing was to take action immediately, which I did. After I closed his robe.Once I wasn’t being stared at by that gnarled monstrosity, I was able to concentrate on bringing him back. It might even have ended up working to my advantage if I saved his life (assuming he didn’t remember I was the one who took it from him in the first place).There was, however, a slight problem. When I placed my hands on his chest and made the finger movements that had become second nature to me, nothing happened.No glowing, no healing, no magic.I tried a number of times, each one a complete failure. I tried to create a light, and that didn’t work, either.It wasn’
Maurice and Dudley were not happy boys. Not very surprisingly, they wanted to run after the girls and rescue them. Overcome impossible odds, live happily ever after. You know, the hero thingy.I think everyone agrees this is the way things should be, including most girls. Sure, there’s some lip service paid to the idea that if the positions were reversed the girls would do the same... if it wasn’t for society holding them back. But would they?But would they, though?It didn’t matter. Jenny, Claire and Flossie had made a choice. For some reason, they wanted to do this (whatever ‘this’ was) on their own. Maybe to prove a point. Maybe to protect us. Maybe because they had suddenly hit that time in their lives when acting retarded seemed like the right thing to do.Whatever the reason, they knew the other two would at least join in if asked. So why hadn’t they asked them?“You really aren’t going to do anything?” asked Maurice. “We’re supposed to let the
“Finally,” said Arthur, “you’re leaving. Let me show you out.”I got the feeling he wasn’t walking us to the door out of politeness, more to make sure we actually left. Whether or not Arthur was what he appeared, one thing was for sure — he had no interest in having us around.“Is there anything you can tell us about the Pope before we go?” I asked him. “Any advice?”“Don’t be a freeloader, repay your debts and don’t bother people too much.”“I meant advice for dealing with the Pope.”“Good advice applies to all situations,” said Arthur.“What about the druids?” asked Maurice. “Are they going to cause any trouble?”“They’re harmless,” said Arthur. “Just persistent. Like weeds.”We were at the front door as he herded us through like a wily old sheepdog.“And the giant green brain?” I asked as he began closing the doors on us.“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”“Like broccoli,” said Maurice.“No
“You wish to become one of us?” asked the druid, his eyes sparkling with hot anticipation.“Yes. Sure. I’ve always been a big fan of nature and, you know, trees.” I hadn’t really thought this through, but how hard could it be to convince a buffoon you thought his beliefs were brilliant? “You think so too, right?”I passed the ball to Dudley and Maurice.“Definitely,” said Maurice. “Trees are a vital part of the ecosystem. The most vital.”“Yes, they’re absolutely smashing,” said Dudley.“See? We all believe in preserving the environment for, you know, future use.”The druid might have sensed a degree of insincerity in my voice, subtle as it was. “Are you just saying that so you can meet Xesar?”“No,” I said firmly. “Aren’t we all one under the soil?”His eyes lit up again. “Yes, yes we are.”“How do I get my robe? I suppose I have to shave my head.” It wasn’t that big a deal the rate my hair grew at, but it might be a bit t
If you have a toaster that goes up to six, you know you’re never going to use it above four. The dial might accidentally get turned up high, but that means the toast is going straight in the bin. If you’re desperate (i.e. a student), you might scrape off the top layer of carcinogenic charcoal, but it’s a grim fate most would rather avoid.The thing is, those high settings were put there for a reason. Toaster engineers aren’t dummies. They have degrees in science (and baking, presumably). They know exactly what they’re doing. They know five produces the subtle aroma of melted plastic, and that six is guaranteed to set off alarms at the Office for Chemical and Biological Weapons. So why did they put them there?Sure, there are some toasters made to handle bagels or muffins straight out of the freezer. But the useless settings on toasters have always been there, even before people knew frozen waffles were a thing.But people don’t care. They don’t demand answers as lo
The walls were thick, so the archway had some depth to it. You could see through it and yet have no indication of what was on the other side, apart from shadows.This was where Dudley’s second sight had faltered. Beyond was where the girls had gone. We were entering the realm of the Golden God, whoever the fuck that was.The two undead guards walked ahead of me in long, strong strides. I had to double-step to keep up. Stairs led us down. Torches flared brightly as a faint breeze caught their flames, but all they showed were more steps, and more shadows ahead.The appendages I had managed to detach and now had in each hand, connected me to the guards. It was a strange sensation. I could feel the weight and texture, even some movement as a pulse passed through my hands and up my arms, but I couldn’t see what I was holding. My hands were empty, and also buried in the consciousness of each guard.And they did have a consciousness. They weren’t the mindless undea
The Pope was sitting on his throne, leaning a little to the side so that his elbow rested on one of the ornately carved armrests. Close up, it was obvious his luscious blond locks were a wig, and that he had a lot of makeup on.“You’re American?” I asked him. “You’re the one who came here with Peter and Zarigold?”The Pope pursed his lip as he looked me over. It was nothing I wasn’t used to. People judged me all the time, trying to work out how the hell I was still alive when so many better people weren’t.“That’s right. Rupert Haines. Nice to meet you.” His non-theatrical voice was quite high and nasally.“And Tupor Haisman?” I was curious about the name change. Why bother?“Just a stage name. More fitting of the setting, I thought. Never liked Rupert, lacks a punch. Not so unusual, really. I mean, you don’t think Zarigold’s her real name, do you.” His eyebrows climbed up his face like he’d revealed some scurrilous gossip.We were getting on v