Part 2 - Time for escape
December 23rd 2006 12:45
It was the beginning of a clear day. Only a few wisps of green cloud marred the perfectly clear yellow sky as the last reflections of the moons disappeared to the north and the first rays of the sun burst across the horizon in the south.
Bo and Ru were not looking at the sky; they had bigger things on their mind than the weather. Hurrying across the tarmac of the landing strip they carrying their infinitely small, but unbelievably heavy load of anti-matter fuel for their ship, ‘The Beigebummjob’.
The ship got its name from two sources. The first was its colour, a particularly fashionable new-eige beige, both inside and out. The hull was beige, the landing gear was beige, and even its name was painted on with slightly glossed beige on beige. The second was from the great intergalactic explorer Diklickley Bummjob.
Diklickley Bummjob was the only person of note to ever rise from the planet of DisQuientia. Oh, there were politicians, and professional complainers and project managers, but they were nothing compared with the great explorer. He had a vision of other galaxies, not just the ‘Cream for All’, and in these galaxies there was other life. This life was strange and unusual and not like any thing the mind could imagine. He set out, 5000 years ago, on a quest to find this imagined other life in these imagined other galaxies.
Most people of ‘Cream for All’ believed he was a crack-pot and were glad to be rid of him. But a few shared his dream and were ready to follow in his footsteps.
“Don’t drop it again,” said Bo, “we can’t afford to break this one as well.” She was talking about the anti-matter. While she was the only daughter of the richest man on the planet, Bo’s allowance wasn’t going to stretch to three fills of anti-matter in one week.
Ru struggled against the weigh of the spherical box. “If you helped me with the first one,” he grunted, “I wouldn’t have dropped it.”
“Nonsense!” scoffed Bo. “I’m a woman. Why should I do manual labour?”
“You only chose to be a woman because you thought you wouldn’t have to work. Let me tell you Bo Gantuar, we will all have to work when we find our new home out there amongst the void. You and I will become equals.”
“Ru, you’re talking nonsense. There are no equals to my clan and I own the ship, so there’s no telling how much work I might make for your wobbly body.”
They had reached their ship. Ru rested on one of the supports for the landing gear before carrying the sphere on board.
Elsewhere on the planet the members of the High Council were having a Yelling Match.
The occasion of a Yelling Match was generally an event of great joy. The people of the planet defined themselves with the phrase: “I yell therefore I am not an animal”. Yelling matches were by the people, for the people. But there was a different type of yelling match, the type of yelling match that was the result of extremely bad news given to a group of people all at the same time.
On this occasion the people were the highest ministers in the government. The bad news was that the missile they had sent to the galaxy’s head planet HedLandia had gotten halfway to its destination and mysteriously turned around and was heading back from whence it came, approximately 200 metres to the west of the High Council building.
It was on hearing this news that the Essential Minister, Ga Gantuar, pontificated, “I told you we should never have attempted to blow up the administrative planet! Who cares if the trains don’t run on time?”
His assistant was making slightly better use of the moment to calculate just how long the people of DisQuientia had to live before their own planet destroying bomb returned home and destroyed their planet.
“Essential Minister,” he said, tugging on Ga Gantuar’s sleeve, “I calculate that we have about thirty five minutes to live.”
No one heard him over the din. As far as yellers went, the assistant wasn’t a very good one, most number crunchers weren’t.
He slipped out of the room unnoticed while the planet’s leaders continued to scream and tear their hair out while running around in circles.
Bo and Ru were not looking at the sky; they had bigger things on their mind than the weather. Hurrying across the tarmac of the landing strip they carrying their infinitely small, but unbelievably heavy load of anti-matter fuel for their ship, ‘The Beigebummjob’.
The ship got its name from two sources. The first was its colour, a particularly fashionable new-eige beige, both inside and out. The hull was beige, the landing gear was beige, and even its name was painted on with slightly glossed beige on beige. The second was from the great intergalactic explorer Diklickley Bummjob.
Diklickley Bummjob was the only person of note to ever rise from the planet of DisQuientia. Oh, there were politicians, and professional complainers and project managers, but they were nothing compared with the great explorer. He had a vision of other galaxies, not just the ‘Cream for All’, and in these galaxies there was other life. This life was strange and unusual and not like any thing the mind could imagine. He set out, 5000 years ago, on a quest to find this imagined other life in these imagined other galaxies.
Most people of ‘Cream for All’ believed he was a crack-pot and were glad to be rid of him. But a few shared his dream and were ready to follow in his footsteps.
“Don’t drop it again,” said Bo, “we can’t afford to break this one as well.” She was talking about the anti-matter. While she was the only daughter of the richest man on the planet, Bo’s allowance wasn’t going to stretch to three fills of anti-matter in one week.
Ru struggled against the weigh of the spherical box. “If you helped me with the first one,” he grunted, “I wouldn’t have dropped it.”
“Nonsense!” scoffed Bo. “I’m a woman. Why should I do manual labour?”
“You only chose to be a woman because you thought you wouldn’t have to work. Let me tell you Bo Gantuar, we will all have to work when we find our new home out there amongst the void. You and I will become equals.”
“Ru, you’re talking nonsense. There are no equals to my clan and I own the ship, so there’s no telling how much work I might make for your wobbly body.”
They had reached their ship. Ru rested on one of the supports for the landing gear before carrying the sphere on board.
-o0o-
Elsewhere on the planet the members of the High Council were having a Yelling Match.
The occasion of a Yelling Match was generally an event of great joy. The people of the planet defined themselves with the phrase: “I yell therefore I am not an animal”. Yelling matches were by the people, for the people. But there was a different type of yelling match, the type of yelling match that was the result of extremely bad news given to a group of people all at the same time.
On this occasion the people were the highest ministers in the government. The bad news was that the missile they had sent to the galaxy’s head planet HedLandia had gotten halfway to its destination and mysteriously turned around and was heading back from whence it came, approximately 200 metres to the west of the High Council building.
It was on hearing this news that the Essential Minister, Ga Gantuar, pontificated, “I told you we should never have attempted to blow up the administrative planet! Who cares if the trains don’t run on time?”
His assistant was making slightly better use of the moment to calculate just how long the people of DisQuientia had to live before their own planet destroying bomb returned home and destroyed their planet.
“Essential Minister,” he said, tugging on Ga Gantuar’s sleeve, “I calculate that we have about thirty five minutes to live.”
No one heard him over the din. As far as yellers went, the assistant wasn’t a very good one, most number crunchers weren’t.
He slipped out of the room unnoticed while the planet’s leaders continued to scream and tear their hair out while running around in circles.
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