DragonSphere

I felt a little ill. Okay, so I faked it, but I hated those stupid gatherings my parents throw, you know how it is being Prince and all. I wandered into the garden, it's a pretty garden by day and my mom prides herself on her gardening (even though Jim our gardener does most of the work), but by night it was just another collection of plant life in the world. I sat near the rear of the garden on my favorite bench, the Dragon bench, which had beautiful engravings of the mighty dragons that once graced our lovely land and sky. Did I mention that I hate this world? Our hunters and scientists killed off the Dragons and Unicorns and Elves and everything else by the time I was five… Oh, did I mention my Dad? I hate my Dad. He is the one who decided to kill the animals. He hated Dragons, and because of that, I hate him.

My Dad used to explain to me why he killed the Dragons. He always spoke of the greater good, and the needs of the Fearful outweighing the needs of good Barbecue or something crazy like that. I miss the Dragons. My Mom still tells me stories of Vritnal, my best friend, one of the Royal Elite. He is dead now, just like the rest of them.

Anyway, so there I was, sitting on a bench in the middle of the night. A man slowly walked up to me. It wasn't the walk of a crippled man, but of one admiring the roses that were invisible in the dark.

"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly.

I looked at him, "Sir, it's the middle of the night."

"Oh… Really… Why, so it is ...

Stereotypes

The Pazerion, the headquarters of the Volus, the keepers of the Catalog, the courageous men, women, and others who have braved/will brave time, space, and the infinity of parallel universes, was one of the most beautiful buildings in the civilized Tri-Galactic area and even beyond.

The great Azerothian Corporation originally founded the Guild of Catalogs but because of its interdimensional presence, its wealth has become a bit muddied and uncountable. The Catalog is a broad book detailing every nexus in history in a huge Tree graph known jokingly as Yggdrasil. Of course, there are muddied bits where the branches hide each other and new nexes (plural of nexus) are found constantly and many nexes are still left uncharted, but with a theoretically infinite number Volus… The whole catalog is stored on the Pazerion Galactinet server, which supposedly is sitting in the center of a huge data nexus where all the servers of all the Galactinets all are… well, the same.

With the help of the Galactinet supposedly any traveler (thanks to GPS [Galactinet Positional Subsystem]) can pinpoint their exact position in Time, Space, and Parallel Space. Volus Deet subconsciously tapped her long fingernail on her forehead as Volus Jasis checked the GPS [+345¹] through his watch, "Right on time Deet."

"Really? Wow, the boys in the basement² must have been working on those formulas for months. What's so special about our mission this time? Another nexus kludge?"

The building in front of them was the Pazerion; only, it wasn't their Pazerion, the Pazerion of the Base Line, of the "Trunk". Jasis fiddled with his watch and then gave her a big dopey grin; "We are needed to do some work inside."

Deet frowned, "Then why not set us inside?"

"It's ...

One With The Towel

The Temple Master of Neeshama bowed to the young apprentice. The apprentice bowed back. "My son," the Master said, "you must quiet yourself and become one with your inner Towel."

"Yes master."

The Master patted the apprentice on the shoulder, "You must learn to do as the good book says and do not panic."

"Yes master."

The Master smiled and then said, "That is all, my son, you may leave."

"Yes master," and then he left quietly.

Halfway across the 5^th dimension¹ Jasis smiled at the Doctor. The Doctor, whose face was engraved with years of work didn't even move one of his barely used facial muscles. "Jasis, I am sorry to do this to you and Deet, but you need to do something we all hate. You know the +5 sector?"

"The… Earth sector?"

The Doctor was the Assignments Director for the Guild, and he had seen almost all of the assignments ever given to the Volis. "Yes Jasis, the Earth Sector, one of the most despicably inept and fudged part of the Human Continuum. It seems that they have once again fudged things up. You have heard of the ‘Book’ from some of those lines that almost destroyed the continuum many times over? Well, it seems that the Book is at it again. This time, it has fallen into a line that was not supposed to have the Book. We need to see how badly things are messed up in the resulting nexus line."

Within minutes Jasis and Deet had phased between lines. They ended up inside a temple of some kind; a kindly old man gaped at them.

"Are you visitors from above?" he asked.

Volus Jasis smiled at him; "You can say that, yes."

"Ah. It ...

Chapter 1

Where do you find a Flight Control Chip in a country that doesn’t even have all of its companies with Web Pages? First Alexander went to the Hotel manager who sent him to the local Radio Shack who sent him to the local Hardware store who sent him to The Travel Agent who sent him to the Space Shuttle Dept. who told him to see the Hotel manager.

Alexander, worn out, headed for the Pier to see if the penguin had any ideas. At the Pier Alexander found the penguin backed into a corner by policeman. Surprised Alexander asked what was up.

Before the policeman could respond, Rojer blurted out, "This officer says that I must have a Whit of Shuttle Use in order to blast off, and I have one."

Alexander, after having a flash of precognition, said to the policeman who was still trying to get his say in, "My dear fellow, this is not the Penguin’s ship, it is mine, but I have the penguin as a good and loyal co-pilot," Rojer squirmed, Alexander winked. "My co-pilot is working under the worst circumstances, and has been tormented long enough by you. Please leave officer."

Afterward, the penguin looked at Alexander, he uttered, "Thank you, that was quick thinking. It seems that the government wants me to stay here. That was the second time I’ve had one of those cheats come up to me."

"I wonder why. Oh well, have you any luck in finding a flight control chip?" Rojer asked.

"No, I’ve been running circles for the past hour, it seems that there are none," replied Alexander tensely.

Rojer sighed. "That’s fine, I ordered ...

The Podium

The podium, a small wonder of modern technology, glowed in artificial light, the only source of light in the dark chamber. The lecturer, one Phagus T. Klack, Ph.D. of Medicine, the Arts, and Home Economics, glowered at his audience. His bushy eyebrows were upturned into a chevron of disgust. A monitor on the podium had his speech hovering in front of his face, but he ignored it, just as he ignored the lone data console to his right, which made him long for the good old days. Sure, he had only been five when the FAsT was developed. FAsT, the Floating Assistant Technology changed the world, and everyone he knew hated it.

Across the campus in a decrepit media lab a man was sighing. His eyes glanced over at the Lecture Hall, and sighed again. Life, he told himself, was a cruel and spiteful thing. He had built the product of a lifetime, no, of a century, and yet, here he was sitting in a chair in a dying under funded building in a dying under funded town in the middle of yesteryear sighing. He sighed again. The legal battle had cost him, his colleagues, his family, his college, his town, even his country their lives, and he was left alone in a world of people.

In another corner of town a lady, aged beyond years, tucked her children into bed, telling them the same thing she had told them every year since after they were born. She told them that their Dad had business to finish, and when he was done, he would return. She knew it was a lie. She knew he couldn’t come back, not only would he not let himself, but she would not let him return, she hated him for what ...