The Bloated One
Well-Known Member
All,
Looking for comments on pacing and whether I should be adding more description of the scenery and people. Open to any thoughts and ideas. I promised Chris an opportunity to get stuck in with his red pen of grammar and punctuation. . .
* * *
Regardless of his decision, Tarquin would return to 2009 and resume his normal life. If he accepted the offer, Rigsworth would work up a story for his disappearance. If Tarquin decided 2340 wasn’t for him, he would wake with a sore head in a corner of a field, or on a park bench and remember nothing about his time travel adventures. Jeremiah Cavendish would be just another retired lock keeper raising worms and tending his garden.
For the remaining four days in 2340 AD, Rigsworth booked Tarquin into the Tour Guide School with Rhia. As Tarquin left the office, Jules turned to him and tapped his nose.
“Don’t mention the Tour Guide School is a cover to Rhia. She’s not ready yet.”
* * *
During the day, Tarquin and Rhia attended Rigsworth’s Time Travel Tour Guide School. At night, while he slept, the Encyclopedic Diviana 25, nicknamed the Edubed, fed him a selection of books. Titles were loaded onto small memory capsules and placed into a slot on the side of the bed, like a memory card into a computer. The information was then downloaded into Tarquin's hippocampus—this was how twenty fourth century humans learnt.
One morning, while taking a short cut through the Rigsworth Library of Lexiconography & Linguistics to meet Rhia, Tarquin suddenly stopped. Engrossed in attending the Guide School, he had forgotten about the part-translation. He slapped his head and groaned. He was standing in a vast repository of ancient and modern languages! A small, furry shaped humanoid wearing a white laboratory coat ran out of a side room and stared at him. It made a sharp, tutting noise and disappeared. Even in the twenty fourth century libraries were places of silent contemplation.
Tarquin hurried through the vaulted chamber trying to think up an excuse to stay in the library and not go to school. He spotted Rhia waiting by the entrance on the other side of the library and ran to meet her.
“I need to spend some time looking for something in here,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t be able to follow you today.”
Rhia looked disappointed, but her face soon changed. She smiled mischievously at Tarquin.
“That’s okay,” she said, “we’re only missing a lecture on, ‘how to blag your way into a Victorian séance,‘ so we have a couple of hours to look for . . .what exactly are we looking for?”
Tarquin glanced around the library entrance in case something, or someone was within earshot.
“I want to know what language this is.” He waved the part-translation at her. “I found it on a trip to seventeenth century England.”
“Oh goody,” she said, her blue eyes fizzed with excitement, “I like a mystery!”
They walked to the centre of the library and Rhia took Tarquin over to a bank of machinery.
“I remember watching one of Rigsworth’s team place a book in here.” She pointed to a pedestal and a silver coloured machine. Tarquin recognized it immediately.
“It’s another ruddy toaster!” he exclaimed, rather too loudly. The fury humanoid he had seen before, darted out from behind a table and stood bow legged glaring at him. It tapped a paw on the floor and dragged its knuckles rhythmically back and forth across the carpet.
“What?” asked Tarquin, shaken by the sudden appearance of the alien primate.
“It never ceases to amaze me that you humans ever thought that we are somehow related.” It crossed its arms. “Please, a cartload of us are exploring the infinite human theorem and we need to concentrate.”
“Sorry. . .Roger,” whispered Tarquin reading the badge on the primate’s coat.
Roger raised himself to his full height of four feet, pushed out his round chest and looked proudly at Tarquin and Rhia, “We are almost, surely, about to succeed.”
Tarquin giggled nervously, unsure what to do, or say as Roger swung his arms in an arc and waddled off.
Rhia shook her head. “Ignore fur ball. He and his friends have been using time travelling guides as guinea pigs to plonk on Underwoods in his so called ‘lab’ ever since I’ve been here. He pays them a pittance. Last year, he claimed to have re-written Macbeth as a comedy.” Rhia shook her head dismissively, “no one has ever seen it. Come, let’s put the book into the translator.” They walked to the pedestal and Tarquin dropped the book into one side of the toaster and stood back.
Rhia pointed to a screen above the toaster. “The machine will analyze the script and hopefully tell us the language.”
“But,” said Tarquin pointing at the toaster, “it takes at least 48 hours?” Rhia shot him a look of puzzled amusement.
”Only if you want it translated. We’ll find the language first then put it into your Edubed. You can read it yourself tomorrow.”
A few minutes passed and they were still waiting. Rhia looked at the console. “Very strange,” she said, pushing several buttons before thumping the side. “It must be out order.”
Tarquin moved closer and peered inside the empty toast chamber.
“Aaaarghhhooooooh!”
“Tarquin!” screamed Rhia.
A shaft of light, similar to a laser beam had shot out from the side of the toaster and trapped Tarquin in a deathly blue glow.
“Ooooohflayooooh—” The light disappeared. Tarquin shook uncontrollably, just like a child who’s come out of the sea on a cold day at Brighton.
“What the—”
“You’ve been categorized,” said Roger, standing at the head of a group of onlookers as Rhia cradled Tarquin in her arms.
“Waaaz tat?” asked Tarquin.
“Wait here.” Roger turned and dispersed the gathering. Meanwhile, Rhia heard a noise and returned to the toaster. A button was flashing so she pressed it. The machine pinged and the part-translation popped out of a small tray. The screen flickered into life and a short paragraph appeared describing the language.
“Okay,” said Rhia, entering the information in her personal tablet, “let’s find information on the ancient language of the Nerydire. I’ll take a copy and we can both learn the language overnight.” Rhia grinned at Tarquin who had stopped shivering and was looking a lot better.
“Tomorrow we’ll be fluent in Nerydire!”
“No you won’t.” Roger stood menacingly before them, “Nerydire doesn’t exist.”
“But your language discriminator—”
“Shhhh!”
Rhia gave Tarquin a look of surprise.
“But—”
Roger looked terrified. He signalled Rhia to keep quiet. He craned his neck from side to side then beckoned them to follow him. He set off across the floor with a stooping, bow legged gait, his knees and hips bent and his arms swinging haphazardly. They followed him through the library as he careered from left to right, up and down flights of stairs and across walkways until he stopped suddenly at a door close to the top of the library. He craned his neck and listened.
“Okay, we weren’t followed.” With a wave of his hand the door opened and he pulled them inside, slamming it shut. “Never mention the Nerydire outside of this room again!” He wiped the thick ridges above his eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief and then, with the back of his hand he wiped his mouth before pointing at the walls around him.
“This room houses the Nerydean Collection. It is the depository for every book Jules and his team of agents have managed to locate on the history of the Nerydean people.”
“Why the secrecy?” asked Tarquin, looking at the mixture of leather bound volumes and modern reading tablets stacked neatly on the shelves, spiraling out of view above them.
“The Nerydire were the original Time Guardians.” Roger looked furtive, “that was when time guarding was an honourable profession. Sadly, things have changed.”
Rhia looked confused, “but it’s just a library of a lost civilization, what’s its relevance today?”
“That’s the point!” said Roger, clicking his fingers and going toward the other side of the room. “The Nerydire lost great powers when their civilization crumbled. They lost everything. Not just the ability to travel in time, but the ability to manipulate it at will. But, Jules believes the powers can be found again and harnessed. You know yourselves how travelling in time is governed by wormholes. Well, imagine not needing them. Imagine going anywhere, anytime and with anyone.” Roger’s eyes dimmed and his shoulders sagged. ‘We’ve hit an impasse.” He shook his head, “we’ve had people looking everywhere for the Nerydean Book of Journeys.
Tarquin gulped. It was the book he’d given to his great aunt!
“Can we be allowed to learn the language?” asked Tarquin, clenching his fists behind his back, dreading a ‘no’.
“You’re Malcolm’s son.”
“Er. . .yes. How do you know?”
Roger grinned. “The translator has a limiter on it. Only your Father, Jules, me and a handful of others could work it. The light was checking your DNA. It saw a match with your Father.”
“My Father worked in here?”
“Bit of a lad your dad,” said Roger, winking. ”I spent a lot of time in here with him. You’re practically family.” Rhia giggled.
“What?”
“You said we were family,” Rhia’s eyes shone, “I just thought it was funny.” Roger scowled.
“No need to tell Jules about all this,” said Tarquin. ”We are seeing him later. We’ll mention the help you gave us.” Roger nodded and took two small tablets from a drawer.
“Usual Edubed procedure.” He gave them the edu-capsules and moved toward the door. “By tomorrow you’ll be able to read the books in here. Just give me the nod when you want to get in. It’s off limits to most people. I suggest you wait a few minutes then follow me out.” Roger opened the door and looked around before leaving.
“Okay, what’s this all about?” asked Rhia. She crossed her arms and fixed Tarquin a stare worthy of a head teacher. Tarquin offered her the part translation.
Rhia opened the book, “wow, it’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the dozen or so illuminated pages.
“My Father left it for me to find in the seventeenth century.”
Rhia’s eyes grew. “Why?”
Tarquin shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea, but I think Jeremiah was abducted by aliens looking for the original.” He saw fear in her eyes. “If you don’t want to be involved, I’d understand.”
Rhia laughed, “and let you have all the fun? No chance!”
TBO
Looking for comments on pacing and whether I should be adding more description of the scenery and people. Open to any thoughts and ideas. I promised Chris an opportunity to get stuck in with his red pen of grammar and punctuation. . .
* * *
Regardless of his decision, Tarquin would return to 2009 and resume his normal life. If he accepted the offer, Rigsworth would work up a story for his disappearance. If Tarquin decided 2340 wasn’t for him, he would wake with a sore head in a corner of a field, or on a park bench and remember nothing about his time travel adventures. Jeremiah Cavendish would be just another retired lock keeper raising worms and tending his garden.
For the remaining four days in 2340 AD, Rigsworth booked Tarquin into the Tour Guide School with Rhia. As Tarquin left the office, Jules turned to him and tapped his nose.
“Don’t mention the Tour Guide School is a cover to Rhia. She’s not ready yet.”
* * *
During the day, Tarquin and Rhia attended Rigsworth’s Time Travel Tour Guide School. At night, while he slept, the Encyclopedic Diviana 25, nicknamed the Edubed, fed him a selection of books. Titles were loaded onto small memory capsules and placed into a slot on the side of the bed, like a memory card into a computer. The information was then downloaded into Tarquin's hippocampus—this was how twenty fourth century humans learnt.
One morning, while taking a short cut through the Rigsworth Library of Lexiconography & Linguistics to meet Rhia, Tarquin suddenly stopped. Engrossed in attending the Guide School, he had forgotten about the part-translation. He slapped his head and groaned. He was standing in a vast repository of ancient and modern languages! A small, furry shaped humanoid wearing a white laboratory coat ran out of a side room and stared at him. It made a sharp, tutting noise and disappeared. Even in the twenty fourth century libraries were places of silent contemplation.
Tarquin hurried through the vaulted chamber trying to think up an excuse to stay in the library and not go to school. He spotted Rhia waiting by the entrance on the other side of the library and ran to meet her.
“I need to spend some time looking for something in here,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t be able to follow you today.”
Rhia looked disappointed, but her face soon changed. She smiled mischievously at Tarquin.
“That’s okay,” she said, “we’re only missing a lecture on, ‘how to blag your way into a Victorian séance,‘ so we have a couple of hours to look for . . .what exactly are we looking for?”
Tarquin glanced around the library entrance in case something, or someone was within earshot.
“I want to know what language this is.” He waved the part-translation at her. “I found it on a trip to seventeenth century England.”
“Oh goody,” she said, her blue eyes fizzed with excitement, “I like a mystery!”
They walked to the centre of the library and Rhia took Tarquin over to a bank of machinery.
“I remember watching one of Rigsworth’s team place a book in here.” She pointed to a pedestal and a silver coloured machine. Tarquin recognized it immediately.
“It’s another ruddy toaster!” he exclaimed, rather too loudly. The fury humanoid he had seen before, darted out from behind a table and stood bow legged glaring at him. It tapped a paw on the floor and dragged its knuckles rhythmically back and forth across the carpet.
“What?” asked Tarquin, shaken by the sudden appearance of the alien primate.
“It never ceases to amaze me that you humans ever thought that we are somehow related.” It crossed its arms. “Please, a cartload of us are exploring the infinite human theorem and we need to concentrate.”
“Sorry. . .Roger,” whispered Tarquin reading the badge on the primate’s coat.
Roger raised himself to his full height of four feet, pushed out his round chest and looked proudly at Tarquin and Rhia, “We are almost, surely, about to succeed.”
Tarquin giggled nervously, unsure what to do, or say as Roger swung his arms in an arc and waddled off.
Rhia shook her head. “Ignore fur ball. He and his friends have been using time travelling guides as guinea pigs to plonk on Underwoods in his so called ‘lab’ ever since I’ve been here. He pays them a pittance. Last year, he claimed to have re-written Macbeth as a comedy.” Rhia shook her head dismissively, “no one has ever seen it. Come, let’s put the book into the translator.” They walked to the pedestal and Tarquin dropped the book into one side of the toaster and stood back.
Rhia pointed to a screen above the toaster. “The machine will analyze the script and hopefully tell us the language.”
“But,” said Tarquin pointing at the toaster, “it takes at least 48 hours?” Rhia shot him a look of puzzled amusement.
”Only if you want it translated. We’ll find the language first then put it into your Edubed. You can read it yourself tomorrow.”
A few minutes passed and they were still waiting. Rhia looked at the console. “Very strange,” she said, pushing several buttons before thumping the side. “It must be out order.”
Tarquin moved closer and peered inside the empty toast chamber.
“Aaaarghhhooooooh!”
“Tarquin!” screamed Rhia.
A shaft of light, similar to a laser beam had shot out from the side of the toaster and trapped Tarquin in a deathly blue glow.
“Ooooohflayooooh—” The light disappeared. Tarquin shook uncontrollably, just like a child who’s come out of the sea on a cold day at Brighton.
“What the—”
“You’ve been categorized,” said Roger, standing at the head of a group of onlookers as Rhia cradled Tarquin in her arms.
“Waaaz tat?” asked Tarquin.
“Wait here.” Roger turned and dispersed the gathering. Meanwhile, Rhia heard a noise and returned to the toaster. A button was flashing so she pressed it. The machine pinged and the part-translation popped out of a small tray. The screen flickered into life and a short paragraph appeared describing the language.
“Okay,” said Rhia, entering the information in her personal tablet, “let’s find information on the ancient language of the Nerydire. I’ll take a copy and we can both learn the language overnight.” Rhia grinned at Tarquin who had stopped shivering and was looking a lot better.
“Tomorrow we’ll be fluent in Nerydire!”
“No you won’t.” Roger stood menacingly before them, “Nerydire doesn’t exist.”
“But your language discriminator—”
“Shhhh!”
Rhia gave Tarquin a look of surprise.
“But—”
Roger looked terrified. He signalled Rhia to keep quiet. He craned his neck from side to side then beckoned them to follow him. He set off across the floor with a stooping, bow legged gait, his knees and hips bent and his arms swinging haphazardly. They followed him through the library as he careered from left to right, up and down flights of stairs and across walkways until he stopped suddenly at a door close to the top of the library. He craned his neck and listened.
“Okay, we weren’t followed.” With a wave of his hand the door opened and he pulled them inside, slamming it shut. “Never mention the Nerydire outside of this room again!” He wiped the thick ridges above his eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief and then, with the back of his hand he wiped his mouth before pointing at the walls around him.
“This room houses the Nerydean Collection. It is the depository for every book Jules and his team of agents have managed to locate on the history of the Nerydean people.”
“Why the secrecy?” asked Tarquin, looking at the mixture of leather bound volumes and modern reading tablets stacked neatly on the shelves, spiraling out of view above them.
“The Nerydire were the original Time Guardians.” Roger looked furtive, “that was when time guarding was an honourable profession. Sadly, things have changed.”
Rhia looked confused, “but it’s just a library of a lost civilization, what’s its relevance today?”
“That’s the point!” said Roger, clicking his fingers and going toward the other side of the room. “The Nerydire lost great powers when their civilization crumbled. They lost everything. Not just the ability to travel in time, but the ability to manipulate it at will. But, Jules believes the powers can be found again and harnessed. You know yourselves how travelling in time is governed by wormholes. Well, imagine not needing them. Imagine going anywhere, anytime and with anyone.” Roger’s eyes dimmed and his shoulders sagged. ‘We’ve hit an impasse.” He shook his head, “we’ve had people looking everywhere for the Nerydean Book of Journeys.
Tarquin gulped. It was the book he’d given to his great aunt!
“Can we be allowed to learn the language?” asked Tarquin, clenching his fists behind his back, dreading a ‘no’.
“You’re Malcolm’s son.”
“Er. . .yes. How do you know?”
Roger grinned. “The translator has a limiter on it. Only your Father, Jules, me and a handful of others could work it. The light was checking your DNA. It saw a match with your Father.”
“My Father worked in here?”
“Bit of a lad your dad,” said Roger, winking. ”I spent a lot of time in here with him. You’re practically family.” Rhia giggled.
“What?”
“You said we were family,” Rhia’s eyes shone, “I just thought it was funny.” Roger scowled.
“No need to tell Jules about all this,” said Tarquin. ”We are seeing him later. We’ll mention the help you gave us.” Roger nodded and took two small tablets from a drawer.
“Usual Edubed procedure.” He gave them the edu-capsules and moved toward the door. “By tomorrow you’ll be able to read the books in here. Just give me the nod when you want to get in. It’s off limits to most people. I suggest you wait a few minutes then follow me out.” Roger opened the door and looked around before leaving.
“Okay, what’s this all about?” asked Rhia. She crossed her arms and fixed Tarquin a stare worthy of a head teacher. Tarquin offered her the part translation.
Rhia opened the book, “wow, it’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the dozen or so illuminated pages.
“My Father left it for me to find in the seventeenth century.”
Rhia’s eyes grew. “Why?”
Tarquin shrugged his shoulders, “I have no idea, but I think Jeremiah was abducted by aliens looking for the original.” He saw fear in her eyes. “If you don’t want to be involved, I’d understand.”
Rhia laughed, “and let you have all the fun? No chance!”
TBO
but I'm just trying to show you an example.
