more america and england bashing

well upon arriving home from work tonite wifey had laid out some new baby clothes she'd acquired and they certainly looked cute........ remember hearing one of these pompous morons from the bbc muttering something about nepotism in african nations and then the thing to do was worry about my kid's future.... most disturbing are the english.... this is a lying race.... a people that lie continually.......... it's a fact that the english are morbidly corrupt and nepotistic, but what's disturbing about them, apart from the inability to rub elbows with them due to their delusion airs of grandeur, what's disturbing about them is their general lack of will to mate outside of their own race: in the future world coming, this is a sign of people that do not want to evolve....

the fact that the english allow the EU to tell them what to do all the time is another sign that they do not want to evolve...... in general europeans do not want to evolve, generally speaking, they are all caught inside entirely the wrong kind of mental paradigm: one where their continent is the eldest (it's actually the youngest) and their people are the oldest, again false, the africans were probably around longer and the europeans most certainly evolved from the same race as the indians (aryans) who were first anyway (indians first)....... therefore the europeans have deluded themselves, not realizing the painful embarrasment that was their past: the dark ages, the catholic church, the protestant reformation, the lack of electricity (even the ancient egyptians could make batteries before the europeans) - their lack of letters, their essential 'brutishness' (to quote nietzsche)........ this is the european

where the german can at least say frankly: we hate jews, let's kill as many as possible; the englishman always must go for tricking his own self (kidding himself) and machiavellian-ism........ the englishman cannot be honest with himself and tell himself the truth: 'i'm a musty old boring prick and i enjoy being a prick to others' -- the englishman has to get drunk, say his homonyms can't/cunt and last/lust and kid himself some more -- this is what nietzsche meant by the 'moral tartufferie' of the english..... even the germans have bettered the english on this level

the problem of the future for my child, apart from the english race, which is a serious problem, the most serious being that the english are essentially a race of arch-liars......... the other problem is the idiocy of the americans......... the great american strength are their genes.......... but in terms of education the americans are backward.......... they understand anglo-saxon names are good, obnoxious laugh tracks on chronically idiotic sitcoms are good, drugs are good, being a whore is good, eating hamburgers are good......... conclusion: genes good; educational/cultural level: zero heading to minus values (away from positive scores)

still we are optimistic, there is africa, china, even possibly india who are in general a supersticious and ignorant people, all kinds of nations out there apart from the anglo idiot bigots of america and england

today's smellin'

ok so today on ellen degeneris they had the funniest guy ever, some guy making jokes about pumpkins and tics and lions and porcupines... this guy had me in tears he was so funny......... honestly, my lungs were shaking with laughter

then ellen made more comments but you know deep down inside she hates all heterosexual people unless they are hollywood celebrities so whatever.........

then saw this movie from 1998 a little in the background while reading the news:  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0178779/plotsummary

then went for walk to the shop and seinfeld the comedian was just kind of doing an impromptu stand-up in front of all the moslems there, so went up behind him with some cloroform on a rag and knocked him out, people just kept on with their business there, so started riffing on how important it is to compartmentalize your indian friends from your african friends if you're white.......... you don't want to talk about your indian friends to your african friends because you might make your african friends uncomfortable: my friend sunjay just got married, he works for a bank and makes 100k a year...... that's easy for white people to do that, try doing that if you're born in the ghetto your african friend says..... no, no, you tell your african friend sunjay is black too..........

it all gets uncomfortable, you don't want to be tarnished a kkk supporter for telling your african friends they should get a job driving a taxi or something instead of doing an armed robbery to make money

2 minute hate for new york

my cat puddy is smarter, more useful, more productive, yields a higher GDP and has cooler fleas than so-called 'new york city' hrrummph!!!!

eat shit new york! benji has ZERO sympathy for you, ZERO.... here's why: you're an arrogant, bigoted little city full of arch-ignoramuses.......... here the ignorance of the world is masqueraded as something sophisticated, some kind of glorified, pre wwii paris, but the shocking absense of basic knowledge of cosmology, reality and just general basic facts shows itself as ugly masquerading in new york with her bigoted little prick police force there that have become a troop of fascists after 9/11 which even the local populace despise...... her jealous ashkenazi jews with their 'liberalism' jealously stealing glances at their miserable little in-bred identities and their self-pity........ the ignorant white americans everywhere there with their european genes and disdain for indians and chinese......... go to hell scumbag morons of new york! such a bullying, bigoted, boorish little bastard of a sub-race: new yorkers! benji shits on you you gay faggots! IGNORAMUSES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! what a pathetic lot of cowering little snotty-nosed dribblers........... what a brood of scum!........... p.s. my sister likes you!

post nuclear war cultural wasteland of american tv

avert your eyes... there was nothing on tv tonite but pure garbage.... the poor lost wretch 'pink' was screeching from the 5th circle of hell where the poor thing seems to be permanently trapped on nbc's 'today' show (don't worry, the mute function was on the whole time and it was just some sad road kill while benji watched his new pudsy movies)........... then the walking human failure, letterman, has some dumb ho on with green sleeves - some dumb narcissistic bitch that doesn't even have hair comparable to benji's in any wise.... the pure personification of nietzsche's 'last man' that says, 'we have created happiness' and blinks.... (to wit: a MORON)........... how sad that this is the direction these poor lost new yorkers wish to plod in.... alas we can only watch them fail and rue that they are as culturally sophisticated as the dean/teen english rednecks of australia's northern territory with their cockroach races there.......... human, all too human..........

before that there was some sad, pitiful drivel: 'suits'    http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1632701/

again... pitiful....... could it be these people, secretly, in their hearts of hearts pray that some random mugger will hold a gun to their head and shoot them dead and put them out of their misery... mayhap, mayhap

flick over to ET.... californian shmucks -- we are more in the mood for them....... the hot bitch on entertainment tonite is on: she is saying matt damon is playing some faggot that is suffering from a cancer attack.... pause, rewind, 'suffering from a cancer attack'..... yes! you stupid pseudo anglo-saxons with your dinky little anglo-saxon names and your botox and money money money are PRECISELY that cancer!!!!

SEE what's wrong with the world!???  we don't want to see the idiot matt damon playing some faggot lover to liberatchi in some lame movie exploring the all-importance of having an anglo-saxon name from some other new and moronically retarded angle, we just want the hot bitch from ET to flick her knickers at the screen and say, 'now i'm freeballing bitches so hazzah!'

then there's some show on called 'the insider' some cracker bitch and some african-american who just happens to be black host the lamest thing you have seen since some IED in iraq just knocked out some poor marine's leg..... you know how these two morons could begin to taste a semblance of wisdom, of which they are far from? and this is completely serious, they should spend an entire 24 hours in a pig-pen with the pigs and not be allowed to stand up the entire time, only get around on their knees, like little pigs, and be forced to eat and drink from the trough with the pigs.... only 1 day spent like this would deliver more wisdom to these two monkeys than years spent hosting 'the insider'.... the truth might not like you, but there it is

the storm america deserves!

in this cross-eyed depiction of santa claus, rafael makes outstanding use of scarlet coloring

turning on the tv this morning, what kind of offensive morons bombard us? ellen degenerate and halle berry spouting off about the supremacy of anglo-saxon names to all other names, they honestly didn't have anything else to talk about....... pathetic weaklings! Benji just wants to tape their buns together, like in the 'breakfast club'..... pathetic weaklings

then the View came on....... again, more pathetic weaklings, couldn't even watch more than a minute of it before the puke started rising - some punk from Jersey Shore......

guess what bitches? the Jersey Shore is about to get the pounding it deserves..........

some bitch from Texas was saying on the internet that she would pray to God for 'intervention'....... well guess what Texan lady? you can just pray to God to teach you how to use a spoon so that you wouldn't tip food all over your face when you eat liquids and then people would want to mess with Texans (whomp whomp)

mwa ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha --- back to the stoneage bitches! at least the NFL doesn't offend - now it's new orleans and denver

anyway, gonna wash some dishes and go to my momma's house -- there's no football there but there's fox news so we'll see how republicans feel about shit in general there

ok the drive out to the druitt was the usual quick half hour (sometimes less) on the freeway west, the blue mountains begin to become clearly visible on the horizon around mt druitt and they are just beautiful...... the land feels even more retarded out here in mt druitt --- like time slows down considerably -- summertime is definitely a reality here in mt druitt.... the crows croon slowly and prehistorically as benji waits in line at the post office that was held up at gunpoint some weeks ago:

'crawwwwww, crawwwwwwwwwww' the slow warble of the crow.... everything is so slow in mt druitt.... slow....... slow............. slow down.............. slooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwww

then at marisol's fox news is on.... remember the latest republican to come out saying things about rape that rubbed the lefties the wrong way? well in fact, seeing him in this context, here in mt druitt, with some of the downtrodden and just lest millionaire like folks (probably half of homeowners in sydney are millionaires in that their houses are worth a million or almost a million bucks - in mt druitt, the cheapest real estate is available, maybe a house for $300k)............ the slow down, the crows....... the guy seems completely understandable in what he's saying and right..... however, you have no chance taking away the peoples' abortion options available.........

ok marisol is spoiling benji during chris wallace's show -- so far, two toasted tomato/cheese sandwiches and now she's making benji some coffee.... remember how that dumb whippersnapper bitch puked in benji's bold and fresh flagon recently which benji insisted on so she wouldn't puke on upholstery? do u think benji has stopped using that flagon coz of that? think again.... why waste a perfectly good flagon that cost more in postage than it's marked down $7 price tag just coz of some dumb bitch's undigested alcohol and bile, right?

well it turns out my kid will be a boy.... that's suits benji fine....... desi was saying years ago she'd want to call it david... and benji was/is pretty adamant about the name 'scarlett' for a girl.... but now desi doens't care for david so much, thanks god, coz benji prefers rafael for a boy, the spanish spelling....... alexander might be an acceptable compromise, but rafael seems cooler......... alot of people in spain are called rafael...........adolfo (adolph) is also a popular name and jesus as well as vladimir........... desi seemed to brighten up at the mention of vladimir as a potential name..... i feel glad this kid will have reasonably strong genes: a quarter serb/bulgarian; a quarter siberian russian and half spaniard (jew/celtic/whatever).... that should probably be couples first concern when considering reproducing together.....

rafael and scarlett would be extremely cool names for a boy and a girl, and next time ur in madrid, go to the prado museum and check out some of the rafael paintings there by the famous painter rafael........ some of his scarlet colors are still so bright and red on his capes and dresses and what not, even after all those centuries.... maybe they have been touched up since

romney going to iowa on monday or tuesday? and not colorado?

why? can someone explain why? and while you're at it, please explain how 8 foot tall chewbacca ends up on Endor which is a planet full of 2 foot tall ewoks....

thnx

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwdba9C2G14 (chewbacca defense)

musicality and ryan seacrest and the ellen lady's radio show

so yesterday, was rolling in my rag-top when i saw a little castle and decided to actually take a crap in a toilet bowl, grabbed the toilet paper left draped on my rolls for that purpose and crapped in style.... if there's no building shaped like a rook, benji prefers to just crap standing up, bovine style, or else don a jet-pack and take a flying crap on some unfortunate passer-by, pigeon style

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rog8ou-ZepE  (vanilla ice)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnODDqYUoUs&feature=fvsr  (nwa)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lVIev94s7Mo  (jane's addiction - ocean size)

then benji decides to take a walk on a boardwalk and visit one of my homey's locked up in a special little jail, just for her

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPEqRMVnZNU (under the boardwalk)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yfg97-5uhFQ  (he's like the wind - patrick swayze)

then, all of a sudden, venus! oops, i mean mars! the ryan seacrest was there in the flesh, under the boardwalk.... flocked by papparazzi.... i fairly swooned with love and started playing love ballads on my i-pod: he's like the wind, through the trees, feel his breath on my face... his body close to me, can't look in his eyes, he's all i need! just a fool to believe i have anything he needs..... by this point of singing, benji was doing ballet pivots and piroacs and all kinds of shit on the boardwalk, just like an episdoe of glee or something like that....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SN1gi8oq74g  (olivia john - hopelessly devoted to you)

and seacrest's sidekick ellen? thrown under the bus from the get-go

5 minute gangnam style fad on the view reveals view inherent cry for help PSY-chology

hey, has it ever ocurred to you that tv show 'the view', that it's really just a big cry for help brought about by its creators and audience that make it happen? if you were capable of proper, serious thought, that is exactly the conclusion you would arrive at....... anyway, seeing as there's not really much to this gangnam fad apart from a catchy little song and instant fame and fortune for the artist, let's look at benji's boring forays into gangnam when ur grandad benji was just a 30 year old on a lifelong pilgrimage to california, and even a year before that, he spent a few months in south korea.... seoul is an overpopulated city with no flowers or trees, its population of over 10 million, like new york and other cities of this excessive size, only yields up morons.... cities like these can only be destroyed with strong, robust nuclear arms such as used by the russian and u.s. military nuclear arsenals.... benji only went to gangnam to tutor two spoilt dopey korean kids whose daddy was a professional golfer ranked between 100 and 200 in the world who was cheating on his wife like tiger woods but with less women and they were in the process of getting a divorce, benji knows because the maid who was south american told benji in spanish........ in south korea and with the koreans in general, the older brother is god and the younger brothers have to kiss up to them, it was dissappointing seeing the 5 or 6 year old brother treat his 3 year old brother like crap in gangnam, anyway, at least benji wasn't some kind of paedophile catholic priest so thanks god those gangnam kids weren't scarred for life..... after gangnam evening classes, possibly also with some other little kid there, not sure if she was in gangnam, benji went on dates with some korean woman called selki... she was hella cute and lived/worked north of the river but was very conservative so there was no chance to put scars on her knees driving her arse doggy style (sorry to be crude but that's the kind of punk-arse world we live in) so we just hung out alot, couldn't even get to first base with that girl that's for sure much better than seoul in south korea was gunsan, great little town the ladies of the view should go and plan a farmyard special immediately, maybe in the appalachian mountains somewhere, when people in cities of over 10 million people spend so much time in such big cities with no Nature/parks/mountains/etc handy, you end up having to call them mulehead just to make contact with their soul.... anyway, it's not just the muleheads from the view whose existence is just a thinly veiled desperate cry for help to the infinite Cosmos, just look at jimmy kimmel, fatboy mulehead jay leno, o'brien, fallon, et al....... these people should also plan as many shows as possible to be done on a farm......... in fact, all of tv should be held on farms more often, with cows and cowshit and shit like that

embarrassing case of Jimmy Savile

well it's not embarrassing for Benji, a spaniard,.... let Benji be embarrassed by Spain's actions in colonial South America, e.g., as depicted in the 1980s De Niro movie, ''the mission'....

but it's definitely an embarrassment for the whole anglo-saxon name and anglo-saxon race supremacists that Benji has been railing against now o this blog for years... The CNNs and BBCs and New York Times of this world get a big fat dose of the ugly Truth of their inherent aparteid-ism here....

do you see, my bigoted little american and english friends with your little anglo-saxon names that you're so proud of and your institutions that you so cherish (witness GMA's continual drooling over the English royal family) - how building castles in the sand as you do leads to ridiculous pain and suffering?

Wouldn't it be better just to overcome your fear and contempt of all the asians and hispanics and africans out there and just get over the whole anglo-saxon name and race idolatry-at-all-costs that you subconsciously espouse?

Look what an embarrassment this case is for the English royal family, the New York Times, the BBC, etc, parties who have essentially, in this case, become enablers for rape by rigidly, ossi-fi-ed-ly, becoming so outmoded, so ossified in your dogg-ed delusional glory of anglo-saxon name-ism.... poor little wretches! This is the extremes you go to when you try so hard to put a race and a blood culture and an anglo-saxon name on  a pedestal: the extremes of 'great charity' and 'great tv and culture' and stone-cold rape... this is what racial/cultural insularity brings....


http://news.yahoo.com/300-potential-abuse-victims-emerge-bbc-scandal-223112706--finance.html;_ylt=An473YrvsXodwU7EypxMyYlvaA8F;_ylu=X3oDMTNxNzVpa2N2BG1pdANUb3BTdG9yeSBXb3JsZFNGBHBrZwNkYzBiMDc5Yy1jNmZlLTM1OTktYjk0My04NGY5YWU5ZGZjZjcEcG9zAzkEc2VjA3RvcF9zdG9yeQR2ZXIDMzJiNTIwNzEtMWVmOC0xMWUyLTlkZWEtYmJiYTNmOTdjNTll;_ylg=X3oDMTFqOTI2ZDZmBGludGwDdXMEbGFuZwNlbi11cwRwc3RhaWQDBHBzdGNhdAN3b3JsZARwdANzZWN0aW9ucw--;_ylv=3

tonite's shift

ok so tonite we got a bunch of ryan seacrest's radio show and it was above standard, it's no fun calling seacrest and kelly plastic ken doll and mulehead, let's face it, that's just not nice, sadly, this is the only way to get results from them, like sled dogs that have to be whipped to pull the sled.... otherwise they will just get lazy and go all plasticky..... therefore keep up the good work plastic crotch ken doll (seacrest) and mulehead (kelly).... and no you cannot sue me for libel in a court of law

so apart from mulehead and plastic crotch ken doll on the radio, we had some douchebag girl throw up -- had to give her the bill o'reilly 'bold and fresh' flagon which still has her puke a little inside the cannister.... that arsehole girl, thank God her male buddy did a good job cleaning it... most of it went into bold fresh flagon anyway -- but the girl was a real arsehole, acting like she wasn't a victimizer when she was a total victimizer (like mulehead and plastic crotch ken doll on the radio when they don't deliver properly)....

anyway, the next girl that came along was able to dry up any wetness from pukey girl's male buddy clean up (he appeared after ride as only pukey girl rode).... 'why is the seat wet?' next girl asked... 'oh the last customer probably sweated on the seat,' benji responds, viable as today was trully the first hot day of what looks to be a long and hot summer here... 'ooh that's gross' next girl said, at least she didn't smell anything, thanks god pukey girl's male buddy did a good job and pukey girl puked mostly into bold fresh flagon

anyway next girl seat drier with butt-body heat turned out to be another unlucky in love sydney sider.... she was a real looker and looked well educated, professional and well-to-do..... unfortunately, sydney people are spoilt shitless and really spoil themselves in matters of courting so that they end up many of them unable to pick and stay with one guy.... car-seat drier girl was saying she just broke up with her boyfriend of 2 years

then there was some american girl that said she was from fan-area of richmond in virginia married to some ossie-czech and then i gave a ride to some kids that i actually felt like hanging out with for 40 minutes or so....... in their early 20s......... these kids had such energy, they inspire me to want to film them and make some kind of documentary with them in it or sthmg like that so we'll see if that happens within the next month............ more on later

another customer was some journo who was saying she is close personal friends with movie director 'cameron crowe'.......... cameron crowe has done a pretty good job making/directing movies....... at one point in the year 2000, benji attended some classes at madrid university on film criticism where there was a californian guy called karl....... we all wrote papers and benji wrote one on 'almost famous'

dr phil and ryan seakrest's buddy on 'the talk'

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-Eq-VzLaOE (manu chao - bongo bong)

muleheads

you know 'the view' has company right? there are less frumpy ladies out there talking.... if you wake up after 3 hours sleep between taxi shifts, as sleep-deprived as a goat-farmer in guantanamo bay, asking urself with the recuperated part of your brain that you destroyed in your teens and 20s with chronic alcohol abuse: 'wait, we did WHAT with our life dude? THIS is our life????'

see the problem? all this freedom we have in the 'west' is making us stupid, spoilt brats, ready to start tapping a 20 year old hotty at the drop of a hat..........

(insert doogie howser music and montage scene here)

perhaps subconsiously i always saw myself as like a kind of walking praying mantis with a curly head of gorgeous hair on top of it, that's why when i saw ryan seakrest's sidekick for the first time, i could relate; of course from hearing her talk gossip all the time, naturally we figured she was a black lady, maybe from the ghetto like benji's former work-mates in los angeles, but it turns out she's a white mule head..... if benji can get over his complex about being a walking praying mantis, it might be thanks to mule-head's book: what an inspirational read!......... thanks mule-head!!!!

mmmmm, mulehead

and thanks darlene from rozanne just for being you sweetie poops!!!! someone will be sure to want to tap that little caboose of yours at some point, fear not!

will have to post montage of benji running down stairs filmed from the side, you'll be absolutely shocked, extremely creepy.... (added as an amusing afterthought spoken quickly): very possibly creepier than mulehead and her afro voice

oh and asian lady, those chopstick things you people use are so cute so thanks for that

and brook shields: you're definitely fat, you should start  developing a complex about that right now!


now rate benji's manhood:

10 (highest) arnold.............5................0 (lowest) she-bitch with a doodle

some legal cases to look at:

yesterday, was at my momma's local post office and remembered while being attended to that they had been robbed some weeks earlier, the attendant, who said she was also the owner of the local branch, said she had had a gun put to her head and several people present, including customers, had been threatened at gun point... the police eventually caught around 4 locals involved in the armed robbery and they will be prosecuted and, knowing australia's lax laws, will get about 10 years in prison max.... told the woman at the post office that in some american states, (e.g., florida) if you pull a stunt like that you could easily die in prison of old age even if you're 18 when doing it....  the post office lady, who had the unpleasant experience of being robbed at gunpoint, said that she thought the american way was better and she wants the four assailants to go to gaol (jail) for life....

in another case, posted below, some florida killer from the 70s will be executed soon, if you're some american corrections officer and you use products from virbac to execute people, benji just want to say that he worked for that company for a while.... this ferguson guy in florida is labelled crazy at first but then when the state wants him dead he is sane.... it's amazing how manipulative the entire area of psychiatry is.....
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virbac

in another case, some young maori mother from new zealand, living in america, has a baby called sydney with her american beau, adam, then, the relationship goes sour, she takes the baby back to new zealand, adam is from the anglo-saxon aryan master race (white) and the maori woman is from a race deemed undesireable by Hitler and the Nazis, so of course, the u.s. dept. of immigration, the fbi, et al, immediately run to rip the baby sydney from its mothers arms and return it to the father in america.... talk about brave! (sarcasm) then they terrorize the mother with threats of imprisonment for kidnapping so she is too scared to even visit her kid in america..... little children belong with their mothers, not their fathers, if one must be chosen, and gay couples should not be allowed to adopt children either......... clearly society is suffering from a number of sicknesses: racism, stupidity, fear not least......... so much ignorance, and most of it wilful.....

in another case, a texan schoolteacher, britney, has sex with four 18 year old students.... it's not clear at what age an adult over 21 can have sex with an 'adult' aged 18-20 in texas..... or what other frownings on certain relationships the law there espouses, however, in this instance, britney gets 5 years in prison according to texas and that is quite right as the 18 year olds, in any case, were students at the school britney worked at...... lots of fun for britney milking 4 little dicks at once but unfortunately for her she got caught (next time tell ur students to turn off their phones britney!) and now spends 5 years in prison, unfortunately for the husband, he is embarrassed and left pleading for clemency in the courthouse! also embarrassing for britney's kids when they grow up and hear about it and they'll miss their mom for a whopping 5 years of their infancy!                                                                                            

http://news.yahoo.com/florida-execute-mass-murderer-lawyers-mentally-ill-184945720.html;_ylt=AulGEwqKwd1snFKRFMdQ359tzwcF;_ylu=X3oDMTNuZW5oZHI2BG1pdANUb3BTdG9yeSBVU1NGBHBrZwMzZThjNDc5Ny05YzE4LTNmMWMtOGY1YS04MzAxYzdmOGNlNDcEcG9zAzUEc2VjA3RvcF9zdG9yeQR2ZXIDNGM5ZTY3MDAtMWQ0My0xMWUyLTliM2YtYzFkOTBmYzQ3MmZh;_ylg=X3oDMTFoaTA0amh2BGludGwDdXMEbGFuZwNlbi11cwRwc3RhaWQDBHBzdGNhdAN1LXMEcHQDc2VjdGlvbnM-;_ylv=3

http://www.news.com.au/world-old/texas-teacher-arrested-for-allegedly-having-sex-with-five-students/story-e6frfkyi-1226057899383

more time whisks by and now Judge Judy is on TV telling people they are stupid and to get over it and 'shut up'....... like they all eat insects by sticking their tongues out like some kind of rainforest lizards, 'there's something wrong with everyone', says Judge Judy......... why does this remind benji of the way he speaks to his wife? anyway, time for shower and to go to work.... it's only been a week off work but it feels like an eternity anyway, somehow

DREAMS from past two nights

two nights ago, dreamt about some small household/family, told them that the three or so bombs i deposited in nice, decorative boxes (possibly leather bound), would go off in 3 days time - big explosions.... they were real....... strangely, the people did not contact the police but were dealing with the bombs some other way

last nite, some guy is straddling a lion across the neck, the lion is hurt but at the same time trying to bite the guy...... at some point the guy, or is it the lion that morphs into a man? or someone else? gets into a car........ he is totally drunk and crazy..... at some point it turns out we're in some main street of madrid, spain.... although b4 that possibly next to a convenience store like in virginia or here in australia anywhere.......... maybe we are on calle huertas in madrid or some other street, but in fact, looking on a map later in the dream, these madrid streets aren't really real.........try calling the cops in australia but useless so try calling the cops in spain..... we talk in spanish, unfortunately, guirri, foreign accent is coming out and not speaking spanish with a proper clear accent.... no matter, one policelady is exceedingly slow to latch on, she keeps repeating what i'm telling her like she is spellbound and bemused and sceptical all at once....... finally i go to use a phone to call the police over the phone and the phone is a joke, none of the numbers are in order and you can barely make them out, they have been hand-written on little pieces of paper and stuck into the phone which is like a mauve colored phone for home use..... over the phone we talk and it turns out the guy was approaching a plaza in madrid where alot of leather fittings had been put in place......... then the cops put me on hold and some people am with start playing with a rugby ball, adam is there too......... the crazy drunk guy was dangerous, earlier in dream he wanted beer or sthmg from the convenience store and someone had to get it for him, never knew if he was gonna shoot someone or what his deal was................ earlier in the dream there was a different scenario, had to taxi drive to pick up some fixed job at some kind of little piazza space beneath some tall buildings

Bopiclav and GergaHa: a story of unrequited lav

during Soviet times, the hair fashion was to sweep the hair back tightly, if long enough, as opposed to the curliness preferred during the renaissance in Italy

did we mention the story of Bopiclav and GergaHa?  'Bow-pick-lav???' you're asking incredulously, what kind of a name is that? well it's cyrilic alphabet, so in fact, all the 'c's are 's's' esses.... the capital 'H's (a-ches) are N's and so forth.... so anglocized, it would be: Borislav and Gergana (Georgina), a story of unrequited lav....

Borislav rose high in the ranks of his little part of the glorious 15 soviet socialist republics, his own home republic was russia itself and he himself was russian although there is some question about his maternal grandmother who may have been a moslem from some southern republic (kirzhigstan or turkestan or somewhere down there near kazakstan) which formerly never was a part of the u.s.s.r which didn't exist back then..... his hometown was Vladisvostok, near the American State of Alaska which the Americans had bought from the Russians about a century earlier (in 1867 in fact), it was said in Borislav's family that one of his distant relatives who was a local official under the Tsar was present at the signing of Alaska purchase... when Stalin rose to the top of the heap in the West, in the purges originating from Petersburg and Moskva (Moscow).... Borislav could escape the heat, having finished his studies in that part of Russia so nobody questioned some of his ancestors bourgeois background in Vladisvostok as he basically existed in a loophole and had a destiny that didn't require he be purged or subject to deportation to siberia or a 10 year 'picnic' at the work camps, etc..... now his work mostly involved journeys to some of the other, southern, soviet republics, specifically and co-incidentally, perhaps, the afore-mentioned three republics where he might have even carried blood in his own body from: Kazakstan, Kirzhigstan and Turkestan..... typically he would journey from his home in Vladisvostok, near Alaska, to the three southern republics, in the South, to implement certain cultural reforms from the Ministry of Culture which in those days were under heavy pressure from Stalin and the central politburo to help the working masses achieve certain goals and stick to 5 year plans......

the burocrat from the Ministry of Culture, Gergana, that Borislav liaised with, would send her communications from different places in the West, Borislav was never sure where she would be.... he had never met her in person as it was not part of system, by the looks of it, for things to happen just so, sometimes she would be in Smolensk, wherever, everywhere was west of Vladisvostok anyway, that was for sure..... her mission was to implement cultural anthems glorifying the Soviet Union and the Workers' revolution.....

Borislav knew that some of the things in the Soviet Union sucked... but someone had to send the Americans a clear message to mind their own business or else they would be nuked.... let them firebomb Vietnam before they think about challenging the might of the Soviet Union!  That is what Borislav and his comrades would say over Vodka at the port looking over the harbor in Vladisvostok.......  who would show Red China how to set up factories, industrialize, build coal plants, etc, if not the Russians?? Some of Borislav's classmates from the University in Petersburg had become engineers and gone to Red China to do exactly that..... let the Americans try nuking the Chinese or the Russians, or the Tartars for that matter, see what it would get them!

One night, Borislav looked over some papers by candlelight.... unforunately, in a village not so far from Vladisvostok, someone would need to be sacrificed up to Stalin and the Revolution.... the quotas demanded it and the secret police would not be denied..... sadly, the town seemed to have fixed on a shoe-repairer that nobody held in high enough regard to want to save his life... already he had been denounced by some people around him.... soon he would be sent off to the gulags to work for 10 years in a labor camp.... poor guy.... it kind of sucked living in a society like that, but if all went well for you, you wouldn't have to worry about that kind of thing...... Borislav expected not to be sent to a gulag.

Poor shoe-repairer, such was life in Soviet Russia and the Soviet Union under Stalin, and in Eastern Europe for that matter too! That was a big chunk of the world....... next Borislav took out a dusty file, that he hadn't looked at in many months, which had accumulated even cobwebs, and carefully unstrung the leather fasteners that kept it shut, it was a kind of fancy, ornate binding folder bound with some leather.... the file was labelled, 'Gergana'.... Borislav looked through some pages, photographs, reports, suchlike..... he pondered over Gergana, what a remarkable and strange woman, thought Borislav.... he knew about her past somewhat, but generally eschewed and didn't care for most of the company she or anyone kept in Moscow and Petersburg, as generally, Borislav did not care for the societies of either city, preferring to keep to the East or else spend time in Kazakstan or elsewhere.... they were much too European for him......... suddenly, Borislav jumped in his seat, the old fashioned telephone, a relic from the time of the Romanov Dynasty rang, its rich bells striking a loud tinkling.... Borislav picked up the phone mechanically responding, 'da?' without a clue who it could be....

'Borislav Illyivich? I am Gergana Ivanovich'..... Borislav's mouth went a little dry.... he had just been looking at Gergana's file after all these months without even thinking about her and now she called him for the first time and spoke to him directly for the first time..... could it be a ruse connected to the NKVD? What if his apartment were bugged? What if he were being filmed even? He had heard such things were already happening when mid-level burocrats were being investigated and purged by the NKVD.... but not here, surely, not here in Vladisvostok, we are very safe from such things Borislav told himself....

'Yes, Gergana, how can I help you?' Boris said, trying to act calm and composed.

'I need to talk to you about the Minister of Culture's upcoming campaign in Kazakstan, I understand you will be departing tomorrow morning for Astrabad?'

'Yes, that's right,' at least that made sense, Borislav knew that Gergana would play a role in some Ministry of Culture's affairs in Kazakstan which might be related to his own, different, department's dealings there, as a matter of practicality.... perhaps she would need me to deliver some letters, or talk to someone on her behalf, Borislav thought....

What Borislav did not understand, was that Gergana would ask him to kill for her.... and he would do it, not because he wanted to kill, or that he would enjoy killing, or even that he would feel good about killing another human being, but because Gergana asked him to, and he felt under her sway.... this is how it came to be.... well, in fact, we will show you how it came to be in a moment, but for now, look at Boris, under the lamp-post in a quiet, a few days later in a deserted back lane in Astrabad, strangling a small, unimportant provincial official with his own necktie with no witnesses to see it.... Borislav was sure of that.... later that nite, Borislav rested in his office in Astrabad finishing some paperwork for the Ministry of Accountability and Finance which was a branch of the Ministry of Central Planning.... the phone rang again, could it be Gergana? Boris wondered....

'Borislav Illyivich?' asked the far-away sounding voice... who could it be? 'This is your leader, Comrade Stalin, how are you?' Borislav raised his eyebrows perplexed...

Boris swallowed as quietly as he could, again as quietly as possibly, reaching for a glass of water to replenish the moisture in his mouth as the saliva there seemed to magically disappear, a kind of reaction of fear or suspense.... so much for flying under the radar in Vladivostok, thought Boriclav, a phone call from Stalin could only mean that the State's Intelligence apparatus had him firmly in their crosshairs.... what of the recent events with Gergana? his mind raced, and the official only a moment ago that he had murdered with his own necktie? The first time he had even murdered a man! It was one thing to let another score of people go to the Gulag, or prison, but murder! That was the work either of armies or the intelligence apparatus, the NKVD, that was their kind of work, he had done this for Gergana, out of a sense of twisted love..... at least that's what he told himself.... who knows, maybe he was a serial killer in the making and he enjoyed the killing, he had never consciously thought so, that is for sure..... but what could Comrade Stalin want?

'How can I help you?' Boris asked nervous and flustered.

For Stalin's part, he most likely was used to the God-factor that he enjoyed amongst the Soviet citizens and didn't seem to be interested in having anyone grovel for him, nor was he aware at all of Boris' relationship with Gergana nor that Boris had killed some obscure provincial official in Kazakstan only a moment before, in fact, Borislav was not even under investigation by the NKVD, and Stalin had no suspicion of him, but merely wished to thank him for his diligent results this past year.

'Thank you, thank you,' Boris said sincerely and hung the phone up before realizing what he was doing.

In the Kremlin, Stalin was too busy with other things to take offense at the sudden disconnection of the phone and forgot all about it.

A few days later, back home after his trip to Kazakstan, Boris hovered around the home in the kitchen as his wife Svetlana and their little child entered the room, the baby girl Nikita running before her mother to grab her daddy's leg.....

'How was Kazakstan?' Svetlana asked him with a smile, as this was the first time she'd seen him since he left a week ago.... 'Look how wrinkled your cravat is? Don't they have good laundry services in Astrabad? And what happened with that pesky local official, the one you said you could have almost killed on the phone? Did you finally get your problem solved?'

'Yes!' Borislav answered... perhaps he was already possessed by some devil and no longer the good enough man he used to think he was... he certainly didn't feel repentant about the dead provincial official Igor....

'Yes to what? There are good laundries there or you fixed the problem with the pesky local official?' Svetlana asked him good-naturedly, not at all suspecting that her husband had become a killer.

'Yes to both! My tie got wrinkled on the train ride home, sleeping all slouched up in a corner wedged between some old ladies and a chicken in a cage, and the local official was persuadable enough in the end...'   Poor Borislav, he really should get some sleep... there's no telling how that conversation would have went off if he'd slept more on the train ride home......

'Very well,' said Svetlana wondering where he got that tie from anyway.

* * *

So what did Gergana do to persuade Boriclav to kill? And how did that cause Boriclav's mal-content relationship with Igor the local Kazakh official to go from being pesky enough to mention to his wife Svetlana  over the phone to Boriclav strangling said Igor under a street light?

Well, poor Igor and poor Boriclav, so impressed was he by the mysterious Gergana, all it took was a hand-delivered dossier with photographs of Gergana slinking around a bath tub with a revealing draped-over-the-tub leg here and a leisurely and a suggestively discarded fur coat on the floor there to fire Boriclav's imagination....

Boriclav stayed late in his despatch... the phone rang... it was Gergana, she never even asked about what happened in Astrabad with Igor, perhaps she had read some obscure article about it in some local provincial publication of Pravda only available in Kazakstan, possibly she was concerned the phone would be tapped, thought Boriclav, and he realized that Gergana had never said anything incriminating to him over the phone in their one previous conversation.... furthermore, the envelope she had delivered to him was watertight in its non-incriminatory nature, Gergana's face was not clear in the picture and sexy as it was, Boriclav could only assume, or hope?!, that it indeed was her soaking so nicely in the bath tub shown in the centre of a room.... looked like Gergana had some money...

'Boriclav comrade, I will be visiting Vladivostok next week for an official function, therefore I wish to meet you in the main Hotel overlooking the harbor, be there under the clock tower at midday tuesday...'

click, the phone line went dead...

the following tuesday, GergaHa and Boriclav meet at the hotel, at first Boriclav thought she was a hottie and it was worth killing the local official, Igor, back in Astrabad, but when he learnt from Gergana that her reason for wanting Igor dead was because he had daintily and loftily tossed her tiny puppy dog out of a train window as it chugged along at full speed, merely because Igor found the puppy dog's yapping unbearable; when Boriclav got that through his head he was pretty dissapointed about the whole affair... then, some cat who said he worked for some top secret government agency that wasn't the NKVD and that was outside the control and awareness of Stalin and the NKVD introduced himself to the two of them, right there at the hotel, and he seemed to know alot about them, including about Igor.... he had a proposition which he thought the two would find irrefutable...

(SNAP).... the two flaps on his briefcase opened with a loud click, he opened his briefcase on a table in the hotel lobby and licked his thumb, as if about to turn leaves on a file...

the secret agent that represented himself as Dr. X pulled a file out of his briefcase and opened it.... Gergana and Borislav looked at it: Archangel Death Club.... the two looked at each other forbodingly... 'Ok, you know there was a Great Patriotic War ended recently, the Americans took some of the best German Nazi rocket scientists back to America with them even before the Treaty of Yalta was signed to work on their own secret rocket program...'

Borislav realized his life now lay in the hands of this agent and the mysterious agency he worked for, but his curiosity was even stronger than his fear....

'Can we ask questions?' Borislav asked and Dr. X merely nodded back...

'How can the NKVD and Stalin NOT know about you and your agency's activities?' Boriclav asked.

'We the Russians, not the Soviet Union, but we Russians, have a space program, we have a nuclear arsenal and capability, including underwater nuclear missile launching submarines, big enough to destroy the 100 biggest cities in the western world.... there are some things in Russia that fall outside the dominion of Stalin and his secret police apparatus....

'Oh,' said Boriclav, clearly he had misunderstood how Russia and the Soviet Union and Eastern Europe too, was run....

'So what about the Nazi scientists?' asked Gergana who also seemed curious.

'Ok,' continued Dr X, 'this is going to be very hard for you to understand, but in fact, my agency chose the two of you especially for this job, because we thought you would be the best ones to understand and do it, there are some things I won't be able to answer you, but basically, some of the Nazi scientists had visited the ancient Fiefdom of Tibet and had even brought back Tibetan Buddhist Monks to Nazi Germany with them...'

Boriclav and Gergana nodded and regarded Dr. X with wide-open eyes.

'Well,' proceeded Dr X, as he produced a large stumpy cigar from his coat pocket and some matches, 'some of these Nazi scientists were conducting highly secretive experiments with things to do with, shall we say, Eternal Life, prolonging the human body well beyond its allotted years.' Boriclav and Gergana were highly surprised but could do nothing but go on and listen, their lives were clearly in Dr. X's hands. 'Some of their experimentation was quite advanced and they were able to extend the life of laboratory animals like flies, and mice that had relatively short lives, so that they would live many times their own lifespans.... flies would live many, many months, instead of just a day or a week... their bodies would eventually mutate and kind of rot...'

In Stalinist Russia there were no such thing as horror movies from California with zombies and ghouls so there was nothing Gergana and Boriclav could relate to so Dr. X would just have to explain it all to them. Apparently they would be transported to the northern city of Archangel, close by to where the Russians kept their Atlantic Ocean Submarine pens for nuclear submarines near Murmansk; to a secret location there and given further instructions. Basically they were to contain an uncontained bio-hazardous situation involving infected people who were out of control. Clearly it was a very dangerous situation.

Military plane flies to Archangel... Borislav and Gergana are transported from tarmac to secret location.

in Archangel, a new team showed Gergana and Boris how to kill the undead with sharpened wooden stakes ('plunge through the heart, kill!' said one trainer stabbing a dummy); crossbow and there was even a couple of revolvers with holsters and silver bullets for werewolves which Boriclav put on........ Gergana and Boriclav didn't know what undead, zombies or ghouls were as they hadn't been exposed to any kinds of Californian movies or things of that Western foolish nature.... the teachers were very patient, one of them flapping his wings like a flying banshee as he ran down some stairs at them, another teacher patiently showing Gergana how to discharge the crossbow.... Boriclav already knew how to shoot a gun so they just showed him pictures of a werewolf.... they explained that all of the undead, werewolves, flying banshees, etc, would be wearing soccer jerseys with their country of origin: Lithuania, Poland, Kazakstan, Romania, etc, as they had all been attending a kind of fake soccer tournament at the time of their infection which was all just a ruse to get the guinea pigs altogether in one place..... Boriclav and Gergana's mission was to kill as many undead as possible............


'how many are there?' they asked worriedly?


'lots, don't ask,' Dr X's secret agency's officials told them, 'check out your ride, it's a GAZ standard issue Победа but we've souped up the engine and given it bull bars and the trunk has been scooped out super huge to carry extra supplies of stakes.... when you run out of stakes, just pull some out and re-use them, whatever you do, do not let the black blood of any of the undead permeate your blood supply and that means don't accidentally swallow any either.... here's an extra two boxes of silver bullets for you Boriclav, here's an extra quiver of arrows for your crossbow Gergana, if you run out after that you'll have to recycle.... good luck, go through the garage door and don't look back, remember: kill as many undead as possible and try to survive until day break....


'what happens at daybreak?' they asked as the garage door opened behind them creakingly.


'if you survive til daybreak, we'll let you back in this door and feed and help you, but nobody ever has made it yet.... someone came close though... now go!'


'you drive,' said boris throwing the key at gergana... 'suka,' he whispered under his breath....

'what??!!' asked gergana perplexed, for she had heard boris mutter 'suka' under his breath.... she started the engine and drove through the garage door which slowly creaked back down.... boric was sure he was going to die but he wasn't sure how to spell it: dye or die... he had been studying english and was fascinated at the sophistication of the homonyms.... die would mean death but dye was simply change the color of something, like dying black coffee white with milk.... anyway, he knew he would die that nite, but wasn't sure if it would be spelt dye or die...... 'goddammit this is all coz i joined the menshevik party instead of the bolsheviks in the 20s,' grumbled boris ill-naturedly...

as they rolled out onto the road leaving the secret hq building behind and fast approaching a forest beneath a low, large, shining full moon....

the nite sky was pierced by a howling wolf.... 'slow down a little,' said Boris, 'listen, can you hear that? stop the car here, stop the car,' and Boris got out of the car with some stakes and still wearing his holster.

blam! gunshot broke the quiet... boris got back into the car...

'dead werewolf,' said Boris. They drove on a while and Boris started waxing tactical, 'Gergana, drive to the top of yonder hill there, let's get a view.'

at the top of the hill it became clear, under the moonlight, that there was various random posses of undead lurking around, some in little groups and some alone...identifiable by their different football jerseys and football colors representing the various nations of the soviet bloc and eastern Europe, some of the jerseys were in tatters already...

'ok we're gonna take out that little group first Gergana... we'll run down the hill, along those trees there, then you'll step in front of the clearing and throw a stone at them and say boog-a-loo or something like that and be ready to shoot any banshees that come along - don't attack them, just be ready for any banshees and run here, then there, then there again and so forth if they get too close to you.... i'll come up behind and stab them all one by one..... after that we'll rendezvous there by that rock, clear?'

Gergana nodded and off they went...

well it turned out the posse in question were a bunch of Poles, they were muttering something about brains or something in Polish by the sounds of it and didn't seem to be very happy in general, but nobody really was with totalitarianism so who could blame them? Anyway, Boris definitely thought he'd be doing a favor by putting them all out of their misery as they weren't really normal humans any more but undead, walking corpses, already with blackened, decaying skin, like lepers.... some of them had chunks of their cheeks just dangling down, with maggots pouring out of them, really disgusting... none of them could move very quickly... Boris took all of them out while Gergana diverted them.... no banshees or werewolves came along....

the next little mini campaign would involve a posse of Lithuanian zombies.... unfortunately, there was a little girl, around 6 years old that looked kind of normal, hadn't started decomposing proper yet.... she ran up to Gergana and said imploringly with tears in her eyes,

'mother help me, help me!'

Gergana put down her cross-bow and crouched down to help the child but unfortunately the child bit her little finger and started screeching fiendishly and started chewing on part of Gergana's pinky finger screaming, 'lunch, lunch, oh i was so hungry, thank the Devil!'

Boriclav immediately knocked the little girl down and plunged his stake into her heart repeatedly while she screamed and her skin begin to crackle and spout black blood satanically..... Boriclav looked at Gergana, she started to cry and scream and hyperventilate a little and Boriclav could see that there was some black blood from the girl's mouth on Gergana's wound on her little finger so he immediately cut it off at the palm, what remained of her little finger....

it was incredibly painful and Gergana began to scream much more earnestly, more passionately, with real depth,

'what's that? what's that?' she screamed as she saw Boriclav flicked the rest of her finger to the slowly ambulating Lithuanian football loving zombies as they slowly ambulated towards them... the zombies began to  reach for her finger and say, 'lunch, lunch, finally!' in russian....

'that's my love,' said Boric, 'i just saved you from becoming a zombie,' and he ripped part of her clothing off to bandage her bleeding finger stump.... as he was finishing that a babushka zombie with a walking stick dropped from a tree above Boriclav onto him and kind of mumbled, 'brains, brains,' in Russian.... Gergana staked that nanny zombie and the two proceeded down a stream and found a family of Yugoslavian zombies feasting on another zombie's entrails in a beautiful meadow........ as they watched the macabre sight of 5 or so zombies feasting like hyenas on zombie entrails, Gergana's mouth dropped (although not onto the ground leperously) when she saw a steaming newborn baby slip from one the zombies.... clearly it had just given birth.... Boriclav pulled out his revolver and shot the cute little baby zombie which in turn exploded and turned to Gergana and asked,

'how do you like that baby?'

The two slayed the Yugoslavian zombies, and Boriclav commented on what disgusting animals the Yugoslavs were.... then the two went on and on and on and on and on, killing and killing.... scores of zombies were killed..... at last the sun seemed to be approaching the horizon somewhere around Kamchatka and the two made for the car.... they drove back to where they started and the garage door opened....

'You made it,' said Dr. X standing by with some of his helpers, 'ha, ha, that means you all owe me 50 kopecks each....' he said to groans from the other members of the secret department...

Boric and Gergana went ahead to debrief with Dr. X which meant coffee and cigarettes and a chance to wipe a hot rag over their skin and apply some salve to their skin.

'So what do you want us to do?' Boric asked Dr. X.

'Go out again tomorrow night, kill more,' said Dr. X.

'Why at night?' asked Gergana.

'Becoz they're undead, they climb into caves under the ground during the day,' Dr. X answered.

'Wouldn't it be easier to kill them like that then, during the daytime?' Gergana asked.

'Whatever, too many questions... any more questions?' Dr. X said.

'Can we have some reinforcements? More people?' Boriclav asked.

'Well we have some Mongolians from the East here, they're just sitting around locked up all day, sweating all over eachother.... you can take all 20 or so of them....'

'Ok and how about just a few little extra items, some petrol, some lighters, a tent, a bbq, things like that?' Boric asked.

'Sure, tell the guys what you need, i'm gonna get some shut-eye, maybe will see you here again tomorrow for another debriefing, looks like maybe yeah.'

* * *

the next night, Boriclav, Gergana and the twenty Mongolians (which Boric had scrawled numbers on their tunics from 1 to 20 to recognize them) all lay in a neat little straight line side by side looking over the crest with a few pairs of binoculars at a small town of zombies from Moldova, Romania, Slovenia, Slovakia, the Czech land and Hungary... their faces were daubed with black grease

Boriclav put his binoculars down and spat some tobacco out.... he looked to his right...... 'ok, here's what we're gonna do: numbers 1 thru 7, you're gonna approach the east gate yonder.... just run in screaming and start staking out all comers, kill on sight..... 8 to 15, you all approach from the rear, do the same.... 16 thru 20 you rotate around both groups, save them in an emergency....'

'what are we gonna do?' Gergana asked.

'we just delegated responsibility, we'll watch them war some and maybe wax philosophical about life and its meaning, if any at all....' Boric replied.

'sounds good, where's the vodka?' asked Gergana and reached for her pack...

Boriclav watched her and looked at the svelte contour of her body, he started to breathe a little heavier, his heart raced a little harder and a little extra blood rushed to his cheeks.... a moment later, a flutter of wings and a banshee attack from above had Boriclav's forearm under the grip of a cruel pair of banshee claws....

Gergana screamed and reacted quickly, popping a shot off from her crossbow, killing the banshee... 'Boriclav, are you ok?' she cried, 'are you ok?' Boriclav's forearm bled where he was attacked.... Gergana could see he was swooning and started to bandage his forearm up...

For his own part, Boriclav began to feel faint and enter one of the 'bardos' of Death described in the Tibetan book of the dead.... in his consciousness, he could no longer see with his physical eyes, as they were shut, but he felt the ground beneath him start to sprout plants that seemed to be pushing him up, as if he was lying on them as they grew up under him.... he felt two kinds of vital energy, life, inside himself and they were circulating inside him but at the same time trying to separate from eachother and he knew when that happened he would be dead.... he opened an eye and saw a brick wall although Gergana wasn't to be seen, each brick in the brick wall seemed to be swimming in and out of the other bricks as if the very wall was alive with the same energy that animated him and everything..... that was strange, wasn't it? when you consider that normally bricks are dead inanimate things.... he looked at the ground, it didn't look like it was growing under him at all, but still he could feel some plants growing under him from out of the ground and pushing him up higher and higher..... in fact, the separating life energies in him, Gergana had that covered, she had bandaged his arm and was looking for some hot water to clean it a little..... Boriclav closed his eye again... he had been poisoned by the banshee and was part dying from the poison, part going through something like an acid trip...... maybe he would become a banshee too, or a zombie....

the next thing Boriclav noticed was lying on a table and Dr. X and some people in white labcoats looking down on him.... he looked down towards his body and saw his right arm was no longer there and in its place was some kind of feathered wing, like a banshee's..... he looked back up at the large clinic's light fitting above him and blinked and zoned out...

when Boriclav zoned back into consciousness, he looked down horrified at his own body: both of his arms had turned into wings.... he no longer had shoulders.... his right leg was gone too and instead he had some kind of taloned claw like a giant bird of prey..... more horrifyingly, his left leg was still partly there.... he couldn't see his head on any nearby surfaces but then he started to notice sounds around him, he blinked quickly and moved his bird-like neck to look towards the sounds.... some of the white-coated lab doctors were standing nearby him and talking.... looked like they were laughing...

'Goddam turkey! Let's feed the Latvian prisoners some drumsticks!'

One of them started making flapping motions with his arms and started squawking a little and laughed... all of them were laughing....

without thinking about what he was doing.... Boriclav shifted his weight off the bed and placed his right talon on the floor, his left leg was virtually useless and buckled at the knee and just dragged behind his feathered body like a mutant offshoot.... he approached the squawking labcoat guy who barely noticed him and made like headbutting his chest.... he noticed that the labcoat guy's chest in fact opened and he saw the labcoat's guy's still beating heart dangling in front of his own face.... Boriclav's face was gone and instead their was a banshee like beak which Boriclav had used subconsiously to tear the labcoat's guy's heart out and eat it which is precisely what he did.... the labcoat guys weren't laughing anymore but scrambling for the door... Boriclav watched as he pecked at their throats, the blood spouting all over the white walls of the clinic as their severed juglar veins spurted blood everywhere, both of the other labcoat guys collapsed.... Boriclav noticed after eating first guy's heart that some addiction like urge inside him was satiated so that he didn't even feel the need to rip the other two guys' hearts out and devour them too... he looked down at the floor as he scrambled out of the room and saw that both his feet were now talons, he flapped his massive wings to regain balance as his sharp talons struggled to find purchase on the smooth, slippery floors..... part of his mind was still Boriclav's original mind and therefore vaguely remembered some of Dr X's hideout.... he looked for the exit where he could escape to the forest outside....


finally... Boriclav found an exit to the forest without encountering any more comers and let out a shrill cry towards the moonlight.... he flapped his wings and took to the sky instinctively...


Boriclav flew around for a while and the moon rose and with acute night vision he saw some Romanian football players, except unlike all the other football players, or rather, zombies wearing soccer jerseys, the Romanians weren't zombies, they were draculas, all of them, with long, sharp incisors....... Boriclav flew down at full force to attack one of them that was a little further away from the rest and tried hard to rip the guy's jugular vein out.... however the undead creature was a lot stronger than it's little frame would make it appear, so Boriclav picked it up and flew quickly to a cliff face and let fly with the Romanian against a cliff butte....... crack...... by the sounds of it the dracula's bones broke....


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXy5KeM8VsI

Boriclav spent a few weeks flying around and getting used to being like a bird.... at first he got the full scope of the zombie situation, but before he could even do that, he noticed something odd: a bunch of guys, maybe fifteen or twenty, with torches lit, trying to set fire to the forest. He attacked a few of them and the rest of them followed their two leaders back to a mysterious box, which only seemed like it would fit two or three people, but which mysteriously fit all fifteen or so remaining would be torchers. Strange, the door of the box closed behind the last torcher and the box disappeared into thin air, weird.   Afterwards he became interested in the nuclear submarine pens at archangel, and still afterwards he flew across the Baltic sea to Finnland and Denmark and even as far as Norway.... he became adept at swooping around at great altitudes, sometimes airplanes would fly within sight, high over mountains.... he could ride winds a few miles without flapping.... he learnt to hunt and sharpen his beak, to clean his feathers.... to nest in safe places.... but in truth, he didn't much know what to do with himself.... the flight to Vladisvostok would be too long and would have to be broken up into smaller portions, and for what? He no longer was a man anymore.... he decided to return to the Archangel Death Squad zombies to watch their sport some more.... he  continued observing them.... this went on for a few more days.... Gergana had morphed into some kind of warrior princess and was leading an army of about 100 that became more and more adept at slaying zombies.... the zombies in turn were slowly reproducing and spread for many, many miles.... their caves were everywhere and they hid themselves deeply in the daytime and slept.... finally he discovered something odd among the small contingent of Estonian soccer zombies.... one of them looked decidedly clean and fresh, but kind of just smeared over with rot and dirtiness.... he walked a little different, looked a little more alive you could say, a certain irrepressible bounce in his step.... in fact, Boriclav had not even noticed it on his initial scouting before his trip across the Baltic sea, but now it was unmistakable. He spent entire days watching Tiler the Estonian.... he found out his name was Tiler because in fact, mysteriously, one day the Estonian had disappeared off to a small clearing and produced a suitcase-sized looking box which turned out to be a UHF radio which Tiler used to contact someone called Bruiser who seemed to be an English double agent somewhere... it turned out Tiler was an agent for the American Office of Strategic Services (predecessor to the CIA).... he seemed to have mastered Finnish and subsequently Estonian and also had a good grasp of Russian too....
'Get me Bruiser,' said Tiler into a clunky microphone as he knelt by his suitcase UHF radio in a clearing alone somewhere...

'A squirrel only has so many paws,' answered a crackling voice on the other end, with a marked English accent... it was code talk obviously, and Boriclav could understand all the words because he had studied quite a lot of English in Vladivostok, however he never did practice speaking it.

'The rain in Spain,' responded Tiler to the crackling voice.

'It's Bruiser old boy,' responded the voice over the line, the secret code words having been dispensed with, 'any news of the Germans?'

'Yes, I have their co-ordinates and will send them to you shortly, you must have package N-23-2 dropped at the co-ordinate site by midnight tomorrow, do you read me?'

'Roger that Tiler...' crackled the voice and the line went dead... Tiler continued with his suitcase, he seemed to be pressing some buttons and was in fact sending coded morse code signals over the UHF signal....

Who were these Germans? Thought Boriclav as he perched silently some height above Tiler in a tall pine tree.

Tiler moved off in a separate direction on his own and Boriclav flapped his wings and followed, at a safe distance.... after fifteen minutes or so it seemed Tiler was heading toward a major German zombie zone.... some smoke rose above the Germans' campsite as they roasted Polish zombie sausage and tended to their zombie homes, their zombie children running around in the final dying rays of the sun as the village did their nocturnal migration from the caves below them with the setting sun....

the camp had a certain amount of civilization already and there was a small wooden log cabin or two and by one of them was a clearing where a kind of party was being held by a number of adult zombies who drank shnapps and ate bbq sausage and other German delicacies, typically made from other dead zombies...... Tiler had been injected with an anti-zhomboid so no  matter what happened, he wouldn't turn into a zombie.... this means he could engage in any number of activities without risk of contagion.... as an Estonian, his appearance would have sparked controversy and then violence so just before he stepped into view at the  party, he ripped the Estonian flag from his jersey, leaving it more or less unflagged......

'Guten Tag,' said Tiler as he stepped towards the shnapps distillery and grabbed a drink.


'What's going on man? Ich bin plumberman motherfuckers!' said one zombie who looked like an alpha male type bumping Tiler out of the way rudely and grabbing some earthenware jars of shnaps and hi-fiving his buddies and shaking hands with others. Tiler barely managed to keep a grip on his shnaps jar and was knocked well off balance and spent half a minute hopping precariously while trying to save his drink.

Tiler was definitely gonna have to let this humiliating moment slide, he was at the party for a definite reason and the mission would have to come first.... he had to make contact with a Frauline at the party and get a secret out of her regarding the village's night arrangements so as he could know how to receive Bruiser's air parachute package which would be flown over from Finland the following night. The Frauline's name was Herrberger (her last name).... Tiler wasn't looking forward to hooking up with a zombie but he would do whatever it took.

The first thing to do would be to find Frauline Herrberger, just another zombie really, and then make cozy with her and sweep her off her feet a little and get the info on the town and just get that goddam parachute drop safe midnite next nite. As he walked around the crowded party he heard snippets of conversation... apparently there was some Russian girl with a little tiny army that was running around the forest at nights and killing zombies all over the place,

'That fucking slut! She fucking killed my uncle's fucking baby darling, can you fucking believe it? Then she impaled her on a post, like a schnitzel darling, my eyeballs literally fell out of my head,' said one party-goer before sticking some cracker biscuit in a leprous zombie's neck and snarfing on his neck tissue and if it were caviar.

'Hey lady, what's a pretty thing like you doing standing all alone,' Tiler said to Frauline Herrberger after finding her and offering her a drink which she took. She didn't seem very impressed but at that moment Herr Plumberman gave Tiler a perfect opportunity to impress Frauline Herrberger with his machismo:

'Das ist nicht deine Frauline, du bist ficken scheiBe!' said Herr Plumberman to Tiler drunkenly and forcefully. Tiler grabbed him by the shirt and responded coolly,

'How about I rip your balls off and give them some Slovaks? I heard they love meatballs back home...' Tiler's other hand was out of view but presumably, by the look on Herr Plumberman's face, he had grabbed a painful hold of his zombie balls.

Frauline Herrberger saw it all and was kind of impressed, it was a zombie cultural thing maybe, so she decided Tiler had some game and sidled up closer to him and put an arm around by his neck... Tiler didn't waste a moment and immediately began tuning the asset with a view to squeezing her for intelligence he needed, first he started french kissing her but then he noticed some of her teeth and even a part of her tongue had come out and ended up in his mouth which was pretty gross, he didn't want to spoil her amorous mood by making a big thing out of it so he just nuzzled her ear a little and spat the teeth and part of her tongue into his hand while they stood facing eachother cheek to cheek, he looked down at her waist and saw there was a gash where some of her intestines were seeping out and some black zombie blood was gently pulsating out and he just gently placed her teeth and half of her tongue back into the gash where her intestines were, maybe she would just re-digest them he thought.... he could never understand how zombie biology worked anyway, maybe she would grow her tongue back or something. Fortunately, Frauline Herrberger never noticed anything unpleasant about the situation and carried on kissing Tiler. Tiler hoped he wouldn't have to fake being erect 'down there' because he wasn't sure he could do it and he thought he would be dammed to Hell if he had sex with Frauline Herrberger the zombie. Fortunately, perhaps, he would not have to worry, for at that very moment, our heroine, Gergana, along with her death squad of 100 Soviet convicts, many of whom were perfectly innocent criminals, mere victims of Stalin and the society of the time, effected a stunning  ambush of the German zombie camp.


It was a bold move by Gergana that would pay dividends, the camp was more greatly populated by about three zombies to one of her own living Death Squad, however Gergana rightly surmised that the zombies would be partying in celebration of some ancient German Kaiser or the Nazis or whatever and would not be ready for a full-on attack. She had a force of pikers surround Tiler's party group, there was no escaping it, they slowly but surely closed their circle, any zombies that tried to break the circle were impaled. Soul-piercing screams were heard from the German zombie women, Tiler saw Herr Plumbermann take a pike through his torso that looked at least five yards long, one of Gergana's soldiers with a shorter pike about 2 yards long then rushed in and finished the job and freed the longer pike for another victim, the sheer orderliness of it really looked impressive to Tiler and he thought he was gonna die like this so he reached for a firearm hidden by his ribcage and got ready to shoot his way out of the messy situation when Frauline Herrberger opened a hidden trapdoor at their feet under a stone and pushed him to jump in,

'Jump!' she said and down the two of them went, Frauline Herrberger covering the trap behind her, obviously they were in some kind of cave and dim lights vaguely lit the interior of the cave as Frauline Herrberger led Tiler up a few passages... Tiler realized that Frauline Herrberger's only use as an intelligence asset now lay in showing him the way back to the surface, as soon as he found that, he would have to neutralize her, he knew the surface only too well and would have to try to recover Bruiser's parachute drop any which way and come to terms with the new reality of Gergana and her Death Squad in the big picture.


Finally, Frauline Herrberger stopped and just stood stooping a little with her hands above her knees panting, 'we're at the exit, this would never have fucking happened when the Führer was going strong, I can fucking tell you, goddam fucking Jews,' she said and pointed to the sky quickly with one hand without bothering to look up.

Tiler could see a sliver on the moon above and some twinkling stars, on the wall were some pegs to step out of the abyss and to the surface.... 'Frauline, we never did finish our kiss...' and took her by the wrist, as he leaned slowly to kiss her, he looked at her eyes, that look of desire in them, her lips parted and her breasts heaving. Did she look sexy? he wondered as they gently neared for a kiss. Tiler raised his gun to the bottom of her chin, unbeknownst to her and blew her brains out. He clomb the pegs and looked down at her zombie brains barely perciptibly glistening in the starlight as they slowly oozed from her open cranium which was broken apart like an eggshell..... he shivered a little and gauged the North Star and headed West, back to the Estonians.

After a few moments, Tiler heard a rumbling from the road and saw some headlights and made for a large trunk to hide behind, after less than a minute, Gergana's road train came through, she was in her Pobeda Ruski car and there was a trailer behind it and looked like she'd some live German zombies in the trailer cage.... also, her army had grown to 5 score and they ran alongside her Pobeda in neat columns carrying pikes and shields and what not.... Tiler caught a glimpse of Gergana's hair blowing in the wind in her ride, she looked good.... shortly thereafter the area was vacant and Tiler looked up at the sky and barely saw a barely  perceptible blink in the sky: Bruiser! he remembered his arrangement to collect a parachute drop from the English Intelligence people and made for the drop-site....

He arrived shortly thereafter and looked up as the tiny parachute coasted down neatly and perfectly on time, Tiler opened it and retrieved the device inside which would play a message with information... apparently it was broken and he would need to repair it to hear the message properly, all he could decipher was 'Chad' - the country in North Africa, but that didn't make sense; but then again, nothing did in Archangel Death Squad: the zombies, the lack of Russian interest, Gergana, nothing...


Boriclav, in matters of diet, had settled on a diet of European polecat, which is actually not a cat, but the ancestor of the ferret and apples.... prior to becoming a banshee, Boriclav was fond of tremendous amounts of coffee, he had since learnt that apples in the morning are more effective than coffee for waking up... as a kind of bird of sorts, his metabolism would require a much greater weight of food relative to his own body weight as compared to when he was a human as this is the case with avian creatures.

Gergana, for her own part, had become quite a primadonna in her evenings which were in fact in the evening in the hours leading to sundowns and the nightly killing expedition, she'd been given full license by Doctor X and his small surviving crew, to put on somewhat luxurious banquets which she enjoyed with her soldiers. A long table had been procured along with some other smaller ones, the best foods were found out, oftentimes game hunted on their outings in the nights like deer, quail, etc... apples were picked, herbs were plucked, potatoes too, everything was cooked nicely starting in the afternoon when many of the army was still asleep.... by around 6pm, as it was summertime, there was plenty of light, and Doctor X, Gergana, the ex-prisoners-cum-soldiers and some auxiliary staff to Doctor X sat in opulent conditions... a pianola played X-Rays that had been scratched by hand with grooves to play highly treasured American jazz classics, procured by KGB agents in expeditions to the United States to further the world socialist proletariat uprising... the music was utterly banned in the Soviet Union, however, the Black jazz music was so beloved by many KGB agents that they would risk their lives importing it on scratched x-rays of bones, the x-ray being trimmed into a circle and placed into a phonograph or even a pianola as in the case with Doctor X's headquarters, which, in any case, was an unknown quantity within the Soviet Union, a secret even to the highest levels of the Organs of State Power there.....

hence Gergana's dinners were happy affairs, she had installed simple water fountains and draping pendulums and glittering things so that the room sparkled with light and shimmers, the depth and corners and installed pillars of the room were hard to fathom with the lights darkened a little.... the evening meals were an opportunity to discuss the zombie biology, the issue of contamination fallout, which was a very serious matter for Doctor X, strategy and tactics.... if a soldier wanted to try out ninja stars, that was the time to discuss the matter seriously...

While Boriclav flew about, searching for Polecat to eat and made his nest where he kept his apples on high, and Gergana ate, Tiler, the American Office of Strategic Services guy, reunited with the Estonians shortly after sunset after spending the day sleeping under a tree after retrieving his parachute drop in the post midnight hours.


........


Boriclav came down aerially on a litter of Polecat young and scooped up a few in his claws and in the same motion, regained altitude and fed as he flew, his beak ripping into the Polecat young and devouring them...... he returned to his nest and ate some apples...... he watched some other Banshees, wheeling and careening in the sky near his solitary nest, they hunted in packs, often attacking zombies, he couldn't understand how they could feed on them, they tasted so bad, their black blood was horrible.... the Banshees never attacked eachother...for some strange reason, Boriclav mused on the factoid that the King of Hearts is the only King in the deck of French cards that doesn't have a moustache, and that the Italians forbade men to wear skirts in public, would they arrest a Scot, then, wearing a kilt?

......

With Tiler, the American Office of Strategic Services guy, he vaguely headed back toward the Estonians while he absorbed himself with the message from the English agent codenamed Bruiser but which he thought of as Brews-Err sarcastically..... the night-time zombie affairs raged around him, and yet he was oblivious to it all, he found a safe nook with a massive tree hollow and doggedly set to fixing the damaged cannister from the English parachute drop from Brews-Err.... he had a feeling it was going to be useless chatter, but he wouldn't know until he fixed some of the electronics inside, valves and resisters and suchlike......
........

Gergana's dinner was unceremoniously interrupted by Dr. X... he stormed into the room and turned on the lights brightly, diffusing the magical atmosphere Gergana had established.......... she looked at him imploringly.....


'What's going on?' asked Gergana.


'A grave new threat has been discovered,' answered Dr. X...


'What is it?' Gergana asked.


'Mayhap pee,' answered Dr. X....


'Mayhap pee???' Gergana asked with a genuinely confused tone, 'what mayhap pee?'


Dr. X sighed deeply and signaled for an assistent to bring in a little fold up blackboard, 'mayhap pee is a new happenstance, it appears some of the zombies have mutated to such an extent that their urination is causing a kind of toxic plant life to spring up, the plant life is capable of enmeshing unsuspecting zombies and humans that happen onto its springy bushes and in turn digests them, turning them into a kind of living dead Spirit trapped by a plant, it is a fate worse than Death....'


'What? How do you know all of this?' asked Gergana.


'We have intelligence, we know,' answered Dr. X.


........

Back with Tiler, it turned out he finally got his canister working, however he would need to return to his hidden suitcase to hear the message, however he was quite certain he had fixed it well and that it would work, he almost whistled as he sprang back towards the suitcase but before he took a few steps he was silenced by a sight that surprised him deeply.... two Slovak zombies, that he knew well from sight, a man and a woman: they appeared radically transformed, they sat on a magnificent clear tree stump that was flush perfectly flat after the tree was felled by a chainsaw by the look of it a long time ago. The two were naked and drying themselves next to a stream.... their bodies were clean, there were no blemishes or rot or flaking or leprosy typical of the zombies.... their skin glowed, they looked healthy, they looked.... human! It ocurred to Tiler that they weren't zombies anymore, they had become human again, but how? In the months he had spent infiltrated amongst the zombies he had never seen this reality before.... he had gathered quite a bit of intelligence and passed on encrypted messages to Brews-Err, which even the English would not be able to de-crypt, but which carried false messages for them to ponder, they knew naught of the strange realities that he was experiencing daily: the walking dead, the zombie battles, the limbs that fell off suddenly....... he knew from dispatches received back from Brews-Err that his messages were  being received back home and the intelligence he provided on the state of the zombies was steadily being received......... he didn't understand the scope of the situation, but the reality he had been living with for the previous few months had truly made him question everything he had learnt at school, at church, that his very own father taught him, he tried to understand God and Jesus and equate it all with the vision of the zombies he lived for months now.... including the Estonians with whom he was actually close! or at least as close as one can be with zombies (not very)....


now he rubbed his eyes as he looked at the two Slovaks under the moonlight, the two grooming eachother nakedly, after their bath, they reminded him of Adam and Eve, from the Bible..... after a few moments in contemplation like this, without thinking, he acted, he stepped into the clearing towards their stump....

'What happened to you?' Tiler asked the Slovaks.
They looked at him surprised, he looked like an Estonian zombie to them... then they realized they were naked and they were a little self-conscious of their nakedness......

Tiler saw this and offered them two small blankets from his little backpack.... the two took the blankets and covered their nakedness.... 'a serpant came to us,' started the Slovak man.... 'I told her not to take the apple it offered us,' he continued.... 'but she did, she took it and ate it, then she changed back to....' the Slovak guy trailed off...

Back to what you were before the Russians tried out some creepy scientific spell on you turning you into a zombie undead freak, thought Tiler to himself, who knew that the Slovaks weren't always zombies and how they'd become zombies, that was, after all, his business to learn these things.... but he didn't know anything about the serpent or the apple except for sunday school stories about the book of genesis, what the hell was this goddam Slovak man talking about? And besides, the fact of their metamorphosis back to non zombie was unmistakable....


After Gergana's nightly convoy passed Tiler, unbeknownst to them, they continued on their way to Headquarters, another night's killing over and done with.... close to the base, almost at the entrance gate, Gergana noticed something strange and told her buddy to proceed with the campaign back to base and went off alone.... there was a bleating sound.... she walked towards it, it was a sheep... oh how cute, it had little pink bows on it.... must be a ewe she thought.... at that moment she heard some swooping sounds, like bat wings.... then she was knocked over, she quickly grabbed an orange strip of fabric that was hanging from the black swooping mass above her.... the mass left her but she was cut by it, she also managed to strip half of the orange hanging cord from it.... the mass descended on the ewe, 'i really like ewe', the mass seemed to croak, it was a giant bird, like the banshee that had attacked Boriclav days and days ago.... it had its claws all over the ewe and was now ripping it open with its giant beak, it ripped its heart out... 'i love ewe', it seemed to be croaking, then it batted its wings and took to the sky, with the овца in its talons.....

Gergana looked at the orange cord she had stripped from it, and at her cut wrist that was bleeding seriously, she bound her wrist up, she studied the fabric, it was the same fabric she had given to Boriclav to strangle Igor, the pesky Kazakh with.... in fact, Boriclav was wearing it around his neck the night he died, that is, the night he was attacked by the banshee, she had helped him that night and brought him back to base, after that she never heard of him or saw him again.... had he turned into a banshee too then? she wondered.... was that Boriclav? the poison inside her own blood now started to act, she began to become interested in her thumbs, she crooked them at a right angle and studied them... she took a few steps and wished to scrunch her toes up... her feet flapped as she walked.... inside her mouth she noticed near her upper incisors everything was feeling bloated, like numb, or else something was filling up in her gums there, she blacked out...

when she awoke, the sun was rising, she looked at herself, she wasn't Gergana anymore, but some kind of giant, human-sized, black bird.... she flapped her wings.... she flew


after devouring the ewe, Boriclav still felt like gorging, he took to the sky.... flew for a while.... then he spotted the American spy Tiler and two humans that weren't zombies, it was the Slovaks.... Boriclav swooped and bore down on the female Slovak.... he ripped her heart out... then he did the same to the male Slovak.... Tiler was left slack-jawed.... he pulled a gun out and before he could shoot Boriclav pecked it out of his hand and swallowed it..... he lunged at Tiler, Tiler reacted - moving away.... this scenario went on for a few quick and hectic moments until Tiler was able to scrabble away under a branch and stooping low, escape in a low copse..... 'the son of a bitch finally f*^cked off,' Tiler thought to himself about Boriclav, watching him fly off... he ventured away from the copse to retrieve Bruiser's canister that he had recently repaired and repaired to wipe the belching liquid that Boriclav had literally screamed all over his face.... it burnt, ouch.... must be some crazy banshee acid or something.... and was he croaking the Russian words for 'bong-vomit' as he puked all over me? Tiler wondered... sure sounded like it, Tiler thought.... ah there it is, he found the canister.... he pocketed it and produced a steel hip flask full of powerful rum and took a strong slug of it...better go find a hidden weapon stash quicksmart he told himself and decode that message....



in the sky, departing from Tiler, chewing on some Slovak brains, savoring the flavor, Boriclav first saw the aforementioned 'mayhap pee' situation for himself, it was startling: the entire cluster of Lithuanians all the way to the Poles were basically almost all trapped by bright, almost fluorescent light green bushes that seemed to be slowly devouring the unfortunates stuck to them, Boriclav swooped lower for a better look: it looked like the bushes were slowly digesting Lithuanians but the affair was super slow, nothing happening real quick, he decided to check again in a few hours time, the sun was about to rise any moment now... he decided to make towards an eerie he had near the Finnish border and board there a while

for his own part, Tiler, having retrieved a glock pistol and some ammo, had a chance now to make for another one of his hidden caches and discover the message from Bruiser's airdrop.... after some time, stealthily making his way through the woods, he produced the hidden and clunky briefcase containing the player/decoder for the message on the canister:

'Get the bloodhound,' said the message slowly in a standard new england american accent.... "Get the bloodhound??" he thought to himself? "There's a bloodhound around here?" his mind asked....... "What the hell do they want with a bloodhound" Tiler wondered...

'The bloodhound is the only animal that can legally present depositions in a united states court of law, there's a three year old bloodhound called 'fifty scent' currently near sector 9, secure it and hide it in the hollowed out tree trunk on the map hidden in the canister..... message over.... this message will self-destruct, throw the canister away immediately or you will be hurt....'

Tiler quickly pulled the canister out of the clunky briefcase playback device and tossed it at a group of scavenging ravens where it exploded, some black feathers twirled around and Tiler thought he heard a squawk from a dying bird too....but not before quickly pulling the crush of paper stuffed inside the canister which he now attentively studied, it read:

You are to evacuate the area at the first instance once you have retrieved fifty scent. Proceed to sector 11, a destroyer will be there to bring you to Norway, from there you will fly back to DC and meet with FDR.

A day or so later, Tiler found himself crossing the Atlantic in a military flight with the bloodhound, fifty scent, at his feet. In the White House, shortly before his passing away (death), FDR would personally charge him with coordinating the American support effort in favor of Chiang Kai-Shek and the Nationalist Party in China. For most of the end of the 1940s, Fifty Scent would fly around China from Taiwan to various Eastern locations on the mainland, at Tiler's feet, just as he now flew at Tiler's feet across the Atlantic to meet FDR in March, 1945. By the time the war had become unwinnable against Mao Zedong and the Communist Chinese, Tiler's work became focused on helping the Nationalist forces relocate to Taiwan. By the summer of 1949, his mission in the Orient was over and he headed home.

Now it is a curious turn of affairs that Boriclav too, found himself in China during these later years of the 1940s. He finally returned in 1948 to the life he knew in Vladivostok, but this was after spending a full three years from the end of world war two, til mid 1948, acting as a coordinator for Russian advisers and technicians sent to Communist China to bolster Mao's forces. How he could be reckoned an expert in Chinese affairs was a mystery to Boriclav, but he had seen his own file the NKVD (the predecessor to the KGB) held on him:

Boriclav Illyivich, chinese name: swooping with grace; expert on China.

That is all his file said! There was nothing about the Archangel Death Camp scenario at all. Nothing about anything he'd done. Nothing. Only that he was an expert on china and his chinese name was 'swooping with grace'. Go figure. It didn't make sense. Anyway, there were expert translators on the Russian task force so whatever.

At the forbidden temple in Beijing, Boriclav began to relish his role as a communist revolutionary for the first time since the Leninists ousted the Tsar when the revolution first began in the late 1910s. He wielded a giant sledgehammer, destroying a precious heirloom over two thousand years old, representing a maxim from the legendary and mysterious Lao-Tzi, that read: 'he who knows doesn't say; he who says, doesn't know.'

"к черту религии" "To hell with religion!" Boriclav boomed through his megaphone to an assembled force of agitators and chinese communist party cadets numbering hundreds as the precious stone engraving exploded into dust. Russian translators, fluent in Mandarin, simultaneously translated his speech. "Religion is poison! It makes people stupid and backward. China has had gunpowder for thousands of years and should have been making machine guns hundreds of years ago to conquer the world!" Boriclav said passionately while shooting off some rounds into the air from his own pistol to punctuate that. He'd already had a wardrobe set up with his newly formed logo featuring a flying blue dragon and the chinese characters for his name, Swooping gracefully, emblazoned neatly under the flying blue dragon. Boriclav only went out in public in china wearing his special insignia and relished his new-found ego and role there.

"Grab your hammers, get inside that temple and smash everything that binds China to the old ways, especially religion and Confucianism! Confucias!" Boriclav spat as though the mere mention of the name was sickening to him."Go now! Smash, crush, destroy!"

Boriclav spent the day in an opium den, getting stoned. He still couldn't figure out how to eat with chopsticks. What kind of expert on China couldn't even eat with chopsticks? He was wasted. He'd have to report to some Army Colonel, Russian, regarding his assignment, currently on locale in Nanjing. He knocked on the door in a drugged stupor.

"Comrade Boriclav reporting, sir," he said at the door, noting the Colonel was seated at his desk.

"Come in, sit down Comrade Boriclav," the Colonel said. He was a Colonel in the Russian Army, and Boriclav was just a civilian adviser with dubious credentials and expertise. Therefore Boriclav surmised, he should defer and show respect to the Colonel. Maybe he shouldn't have gotten stoned. Maybe he shouldn't have let his special position go to his head. What would the Colonel say to him? Boriclav wondered as he studied his own shoes with depth.

"Boriclav, it's not easy for me to tell you what I want to tell you. And it's certainly nothing personal. First of all, from now on, you're a fully fledged agent for the NKVD, Russian Security and Intelligence." The Colonel leaned back a little in his seat and lit a cigar and blew some smoke. "I probably don't need to tell you that with the NKVD, the only way out, generally, is in a body bag. I myself am also an NKVD agent, apart from an Army Colonel, although you will not disclose this to anyone. Now your first assignment, Boriclav, I'm sorry to tell you this, it's highly irregular. There's a powerful woman in the area, a great landowner and high up pseudo-aristocratic type. She'll eventually be driven off into exile or killed, but while she's alive, it's essential that we retrieve certain objects and information from her. Instead of using force or torture, we have decided on an extremely diplomatic approach."

Boriclav listened.

"In fact," the Colonel continued. "This woman, Madame Chao, is currently pregnant with your child Boriclav."

"What!?" Boriclav started choking on some saliva he'd swallowed the wrong way. "What?"

"She insisted on it herself, she has an extremely rare medical condition and learned that your DNA could help her overcome her own condition but only by reproducing with you and using her offspring for continual supply of healthy lymph cells," explained the Colonel while puffing on his cigar and eyeing Boriclav strangely.

"What?" Boriclav was shocked.

"She has a rare medical condition, we're so desperate to get certain objects and information from her, we decided to do whatever it took. A whore was sent to you a couple of months ago to procure your reproductive seed. Madame Chao happily impregnated herself with it after getting said seed from the hooker and now she's pregnant with your child. She will use the child to withdraw healthy lymph cells by syringe on a weekly basis and inject herself with those lymph cells. It's the only way she can stay alive, otherwise her disease would ravage her."

"That's bad," said Boriclav, coming to terms with the new twist of fate. He walked out of the meeting crest-fallen, his head down, looking at his shoes as he walked. He stopped at a nearby bar and met up with a South African friend of the world proletariat revolution. He was an interesting character and enjoyed drinking so Boriclav decided to get drunk with him after learning he was going to be a father again.

"Kaffirs! Bluddy Kaffirs!" Ranted the South African who was possibly of 'colored' background, Boriclav surmised. Kaffirs as he used it, didn't seem restricted to black people or white people or even non Moslems or non-religious people, it seemed more like a generic negative term roughly equatable with 'bastard'. In fact, the South African was drunkenly regaling his day's events with a bunch of Chinese communists who were busy warring with the Nationalists not far from Nanjing. It seems with the South African comrade, any Chinese fellow on the Nationalist side was a 'kaffir'.

"Goddam Kaffirs kaffirin' up the place!" the South African spat.

Did he just use kaffir as a verb? Boriclav wondered drunkenly, temporarily forgetting about the news of his impending fatherhood.

"Ok," Boriclav said the next day, receiving an invitation from Madame Chao to pass through her door and walk on down the hallway. This was the first time he should meet her. At the end of the hallway was some muted light and he walked into the room to see a good looking chinese woman, slim, like all the women in china in those days. In her mid thirties, seated at a table covered in various clippings from various trees. She wore a sleeveless white light dress, simple looking. She gestured with an open palm to take a seat.

"The palm leaves," she said, gesturing at a clipping of palm flora.

"Those aren't leaves, that's a frond," Boriclav told her back in English. Neither of them had any other common language. "Leaves are articulated, separate, distinct. Like snowflakes. Those are fronds, and those are bushes over there, that pine can't be said to have real leaves."

Boriclav looked around the room and noticed a stuffed creature, which Theresa, as the Chinese lady Madame Chao called herself, pronouncing it 'trees-are', explained that the stuffed animal in the glass case, which Boriclav hadn't even noticed at all, as if it were invisible, was an African honey badger, which is a fearsome predator in African animal life.

Anyway, it turned out Theresa was an expert on the Tamil language, which turned out to be well over two thousand years old, and one of the world's oldest living languages. Theresa, from some kind of rich noble family in China, vaguely related to the Emperor, had had an extensive foreign education and for some reason was incredibly interested in the Tamil language from India. She explained to Boriclav that the script of the Tamil language never used straight lines, but only curving lines, because originally it was designed to be scratched onto palm fronds, and only by using circular lines could it be possible to scratch the text onto the palm fronds without cutting the veins of the fronds open. After explaining this to Boriclav in English, she showed him an example of straight lines, such as in Chinese text, how they would cut the palm fronds open, then she demonstrated the cursive, looping text of the Tamil language on the palm frond, the veins of the palm would not be cut open: there it is! She was certainly very passionate about the Tamil language, Boriclav noticed a lot of books around, she seemed like a very studious person, like a college professor or something.

Next she went on to explain how she was trying to decipher some artifact that had come into her possession, and, although Boriclav couldn't know it at the time, it was in fact, a tablet which many months later, he would see after it was pulled out of the water in Indonesia after a determined search by a couple of Russian scuba divers.

"This text challenges me," Theresa confided in him, "I cannot seem to make out it's meaning, i think it could be older than any variation of Tamil we have ever seen before. I've consulted all of my books, i'm well acquainted with the treatises of all the great writers. I have a PhD from Canada in Tamil literature and ancient Tamil literature! But this is something else!"

With her half-moon glasses on towards the end of her nose, Theresa looked very intellectual to Boriclav. He looked over her some more and decided to move over to the other side of her at the small table she was at, which was covered with palm leaves with etchings on them as well as other kinds of flora with marking on them too. He was feeling some kind of love buzz coming over him and decided to move his mind around it and get it off Theresa's body. Sitting down, after getting up and stepping around the table, at Theresa's right, she remarked:

"Freak waters of a year...."

Which of course, Boriclav understood as 'three quarters of a year'.

"Three quarters of a year? Is that what it says on your tablet?"

"Yes, of this I am certain, despite the fact that this dialect of Tamil is possibly the oldest on record, and certainly distinct to the other forms known to the PhDs, still, as a PhD myself, I am certain this one part here says: 'Freak waters of a year'"

Boriclav couldn't control his libido, he decided to seduce Theresa there and then, and that's exactly what he did. But once the loving was all over, Theresa's mind doggedly returned to her precious tablet.

"Knowing that this is the formation of the word: 'waters', I can deduce now many other things from this text," Theresa said while engrossed in her world like a scientist glued to a microscope and some scummy bacteria.

"Where does it say 'waters'?" Boriclav asked, half disinterestedly, while lying on his back and smoking a cigarette from a sofa off to the side.

"Where I told you, here," said Theresa, pointing at the text on the table where she said it'd said, 'three quarters of a year'.

"You said it said, 'three quarters of a year,' there, said Boriclav now, clearly enunciating every single syllable clearly.

Now Theresa understood his meaning: "No, not 'three quarters of a year', 'freaK, FREAK, waters: of A year," Theresa said this clearly now, pronouncing the 'A' now as an "A' and not an 'ah'".

"Oh, 'freak waters of a year,' that's what it said," Boriclav said, and began wondering to himself if his Colonel boss at the KGB was telling him the truth about Theresa being pregnant with his child, and the rest of it.

"The truth? You want the truth?" Boriclav's handler, the Russian Colonel and NKVD agent asked him as he lit a cigar and put his feet up comfortably on his table. He gestured nonchalantly yet commandingly at a bottle of vodka and a couple of glasses on a  bureau to the side, indicating to Boriclav to fix them both a drink without a word. As Boriclav lifted of the decanter from the bottle and poured the vodka and gave the Colonel his glass and both of them took a slug, the Colonel continued:

"The Truth is, Boriclav, more often than not, stranger than fiction. And some truths, people just cannot swallow, but like a rabid dog taken to water that fears the water, will blanch and revolt in panic. Some truths just cannot be accepted. The human mind would seem to prefer to go mad and unhinge itself before swallowing some truths." Both of them now were on there second glass of vodka as per the manners of the first. Boriclav was all ears.

"You see, in India, their most ancient books are referred to as the Upanishads, which are actually a compilation of many books written, and then re-written after a few centuries when the palm leaves they were written on had dried up and become brittle. There's really no telling how long these texts can date back to. The experts say two or three thousand years but we in the NKVD have reason to believe they date back at least ten thousand years or more in their tradition and recordings. Specifically, we're interested in the concept that has already been recorded and studied in some Upanishads, about the Vimana. This is a legend amongst ancient Indians of flying vehicles which they used once upon a time in India, perhaps thirty thousand years ago or more. There was a time, going back more than one hundred thousand years, when India, or what was India back then, was existing simultaneously with the ancient continent of Atlantis, of which the American Indians are the descendents, along with the Aztecs and various other native tribes of the Americas. They too, we know for a certainty, were able to harness somehow, through some scientific process, the life essence inherent in seeds, the same energy that can lie dormant in a seed for thousands of years in the pyramids of Egypt, and then spring to life when planted. This energy was commonly harnessed somehow by the Atlanteans and the Indians of India, over one hundred thousand years ago, and we want to know how they did it. We suspect the tablet that Madame Theresa is translating for us will reveal secret technological secrets to that end. You're in charge of handling Madame Theresa. We must get as detailed a translation from her as possible, and she mustn't know what i've just told you in any way."

"So the story about her being pregnant with my child to protect herself from some medical condition with blood transfusions from the child? The lymph system, or something?" Boriclav asked.

"I made that up," the Colonel responded curtly, with no abashment for his lies. And with that he took his feet off the table and opened a deep, long filing draw from his table and pulled out a thick stack of files and put his reading glasses on, all while taking short little sucks on his cigar and puffing smoke.



*  *  *


Tiler looked at his watch which doubled as an alto-meter.... he was flying high over China with his dog fifty scent. Both of them would shortly jump out of the open hatch of the military plane as soon as it reached seventeen thousand feet altitude and the right place. Fifty scent had a special harness on which included, amongst other things, a parachute. Her parachute would deploy automatically based on an instrument built into it. Fifty scent was extremely highly trained and would know how to release the parachute once she landed so as not be dragged down by it. Fifty scent also wore a special kind of muzzle which she was trained to depress with a certain amount of pressure of her jaw so as activate a shooting device in the harness. There were basically two guns pointing out of fifty scent's shoulder harness at 45 degree angles away towards either side of fifty's head. She was also trained in aiming and shooting to kill. Tiler loved his dog more than anything in the world. His wife, kids, not so much. Part of his job, which he secretly hated, sometimes involved procuring an intelligence asset (a real live person) and finding their most cherished person or thing in their life, and then using it as their weakness to exploit. He hated doing that to someone, like threatening to kill their daughter or something, when he really had to have intelligence. But his job sometimes required that, and he was patriotic enough to put his country before personal moral qualms.

His boss back in Mariland was a total asshole. He was always saying stupid cryptic crap like 'push the pawn to the last file,' and stupid crap like that. When Tiler asked him his protocol for the China mission, the boss simply said: 'kill as many commies as possible, use your teeth if you have to.' That and helping out Chiang Kai-Shek, who he was on the way to rendez-vousing with down below.

"Jump fifty! Jump!"
"Woof!" Fifty scent barked back at him and jumped out the hatch as she was trained to do.
Tiler was squatting down on a low running bunch along the side of the airplane and moved towards the open hatch but his foot was caught on something and he fell onto his hands. His shoelace was caught on something, that was bizarre! He noticed there was an umbrella there that someone had forgotten to take with themselves and a woollen glove which was neither left-handed nor right-handed but could be used for either hand. It was his job to be perceptive, so it was a habit with him. He had to hurry, he'd lost about three seconds or more unloosening his shoelace. It would be cold outside, on the ground too.

Suddenly something like a missile hurtled down past Tiler as he tracked his dog's descent about fifty yards away beneath him.... he'd assumed a dive bomb position to catch up to fifty scent and was happy to hover off to the side away from her chute which would soon open up. The missile that flew by Tiler was a live human! It was Boriclav, he gently rounded off his glide, he didn't have a chute and seemed not even to be wearing a pack. With apprehension Tiler noted Boriclav rendezvous with his dog, disarm it and open the chute. Boriclav was brandishing a pistol, hopefully he wouldn't shoot the dog, Tiler thought.


"Thank God," Boriclav thought to himself when he alighted mid-air on the dog. His chute backpack had accidentally fallen off and he assumed he would probably die. But now he was harnessed to the dog and the dog's chute and he had tranquilized the dog with a pocket syringe so it wouldn't attack him. It's eyes closed and it splayed inert. Whoof!!!! Jerk. The parachute opened with a start, Boriclav aimed his gun at the American spy's open chute and took a couple of shots at it, just to warn him off. In fact, if he saw a gun in the American's hand he'd have to shoot to kill. The mission now was to bring the dog to a secure location where NKVD or military handlers would retrain it to provide assistance to a team of autistic people being assembled who would be expected to crack the mystery pertaining to Madame Chao's tablet with its ancient Sri Lankan script pertaining to unlimited energy supply. At least that was Boriclav's understanding.


Tiler checked and double checked the trap he'd just set. It was a simple thing, just a number of weak silk threads running unnoticeably from trunk to trunk. He'd just landed and packed and hidden his parachute and made his way to what he'd determined was heading towards friendly territory after consulting his compass. He was unsure where his dog, fifty scent, and the Russian, Boriclav, were, but he would have to get his dog back asap. However, there would soon be a ground engagement between Nationalist and Communist forces in the area. He was currently in radio contact with the local Nationalist squadron commander and was making preparations for their eventual infiltration into his area. This required camouflage for himself, digging a pit to hide himself in, if necessary, and setting up traps for Communist forces that might soon arrive.


Boriclav, for his part, left the dog's chute behind and waited for a jeep for collect him and the dog which was somewhat inert and unable to walk after being tranquilized with a shot from Boriclav. The thing to do now was vacate the area and head straight to a nearby base where the dog could be offloaded to new handlers which would retrain it for its future mission. Good dogs like that were hard to come by in China.


Some weeks passed in which Tiler found himself in various guerrilla skirmishes. None of them involved tanks however light machine guns, machine gun nests that required some setting up, portable mortar launchers, jeeps, small trucks to move infantry were the order of the day, nothing too heavy in the way of weaponry. Tiler busied himself mostly with disposing of corpses and organizing supply lines and maintaining communications with the area commanders. The u.s. air force was running bombing missions in support of the Kuomintang but not in his area. He'd never cleared corpses much before and was surprised how easily an arm could be pulled from a rotting shoulder socket. How the flies and maggots could multiply, how the flies could sting, how the rats would come to eat the bodies, how he'd need to bandage his ankles to stop the rats biting them, how aggressive they could be. The bodies burnt easily with freely available petroleum and the smell was like an evening bbq. Workers dug pits around the clock to bury the dead, numbering some hundreds or over a thousand. Tiler kept neat records of his activities. Occasionally he would join in the fighting. However, there were also activities involving medical care for the wounded. There was not a proper hospital available, limited equipment for the first two weeks and then just limited material and doctors after that, no surgeons even. Sometimes at night Tiler would wake up with a scream in his throat, sometimes it was a real waking scream, not just a scream in his nightmare. One day Tiler went scouting in some fields to check for possible supply routes and use of space around the warzone and found a small cave, he went in alone and began creeping along on his hands and knees. He carried his torch in his mouth and wrapped some bandannas around his knees and kept going forward. Then, when he could barely turn his neck around and the entry to the cave was just a faraway speck he heard a dog barking. It sounded like his dog fifty scent. He kept going forward. There was a narrowing ahead that slowed him down and then it opened out into a chamber, not particularly large but now he could stand and walk. He listened carefully, the dog barked again. It certainly sounded like fifty scent. He had an idea. He would mask his odour with some kerosene that he had packed in his light rucksack. Continuing in this way, following the cave tunnel that was now easy to walk in fully erect he spotted a dim light far ahead. He switched faced his torch down to the ground so as not show off its light and crept down onto his knees again to stealthily approach the light. Now some whimpering dog sounds really made him think it was indeed fifty scent that he was hearing.

The dim light was coming from a grate which Tiler approached presently. Through it, some ten yards or so he could see Boriclav and some guy dressed like an a Russian army officer and looked Russian. There were no chinese in sight but fifty scent was definitely there and so was some other guy that was the spitting image of Tiler.

"This is Tyrone," Boriclav said in Russian to the army guy, Tiler listened carefully and understood. "He's fluent in American English, we'll neutralize the spy, Tiler, and replace him with our double agent to gather intelligence."

"How do you propose neutralizing the spy?" The army officer asked.

"I've hidden a tracking device inside one of the dog's teeth, it will lead us to him," Boriclav answered.

"We know his location already," the officer responded.

"But we need to take  him out when he's away from the rest, that way no-one will suspect when Tyrone returns in his place," Boriclav said.

"It's an ingenious plan, what if it doesn't work?" The officer asked.

"It has to work," Boriclav responded and tossed the dog a snack which it caught. "His handlers are almost finished with him, the day after tomorrow we'll start his new mission," Boriclav said, referring to the dog.

Tiler left the cave shortly thereafter after nothing else much was happening. What a fortunate stroke of luck, by the time he'd emerged from the cave he'd formulated a plan: he'd retrieve the device from fifty's tooth, use it to trick his assailants, and, if possible, pretend to be Tyrone and infiltrate the Russian quarter.

Retracing his steps back to his camp where the previous weeks' skirmishes had been occurring thereabouts, Tiler carefully considered if he had been set up. After thinking it through carefully, the conclusion was, no way Jose. There was absolutely no way he had been snookered into blundering into that cave and stumbling upon fifty scent in that manner like some elaborate Russian play. He'd just gotten lucky, that was for sure. Furthermore, he needed to consider how he'd entrap Tyrone, it would be best not to neutralize him but let him think he was successfully infiltrating and fool him with false information. Spycraft 101.

Fell carrion. Tiler surveyed the afternoon's fresh rigor mortis. A crow alighted from somewhere and pecked an eye out of a corse. Eww. It stank. Rumble, rumble, rumble, rusty sounding slow wheels signified that finally their long promised tanks from the base in Nanjing had arrived, better hide behind a tree just in case they were someone else's tanks!

It turned out they were American tanks. Tiler sat in his makeshift office with his dog, fifty scents, at his feet. The dog was scheduled for surgery soon to remove the tracking device from his tooth. He'd had x-rays done and the device had been spotted inside a rear molar. It would be removed intact and used to thwart the Soviet plans, however, Tiler needed further instruction on how to proceed. He held a receiver to his ear and heard some crackling and waited for his boss in Mariland, he of the cryptic phrases such as: 'push the pawn to the last file', to respond.

"I've got the info on the kid, Tyrone," crackled the boss back in Mariland. "I'll let you know on a need to know basis, just in case you get CAT (captured and tortured). Basically, he's some punk kid from farm country in the Midwest, one of ours. His parents both migrated from Poland through Ellis island, years before he was born. He's basically a stupid effing Pole, pardon my French, with a yearning for adventure who is in way too deep. A total shmuck. I can't let you try to infiltrate in his stead with the Russians because it's too risky and we can't chance compromising you in that situation. However, it should be pretty easy to string the kid along and make him think he's successfully neutralized you and replaced you, i'll keep you posted on that asap. For now, get the tracking device out, we'll send a guy over from the military to analyse it and i'll be in contact soon. Copy?"

"Roger," Tiler responded and the line went dead.

Some moments after that phone call, Tiler found himself standing in a field about ten yards in front of Tyrone. "Now just you be careful Tyrone," Tiler admonished him, shaking a 'map of a mine field' in his hands theatrically, it was, in fact, just an old scrap piece of paper he'd brought along for theatrical effect. "Don't be thinking i'm trying to teach you the cha-cha Tyrone, this field is littered in mines, once false step and you'll be blown to pieces, just take stretch your left leg to the left exactly one yard, careful!"

On it went, the field had no mines in it, Tiler was just playing with Tyrone to see exactly what kind of a dummy he was, if his boss in Mariland said Tyrone was a frog then Tiler would expect him to jump high, the boss was always spot on.

*

"So let me get this straight," Boriclav stood and asked the NKVD agent that had assigned him to Therese the expert on Sri Lankan, who sat at a long table with some autistic people of various races and some other Russian army officers, "you've spent weeks studying this blessed Tablet of yours, and you've brought in a fancy team of autistic geniuses from around the world, and I even dog-napped the most well trained dog in China for you all to help with the autistic kids, and you have all kinds of experts and linguists versed in archeology and ancient Sri-Lankan, and all you've been unable to un-Earth from your precious Tablet are the words: 'pussy-willow' and 'hoopla doopla'? Did I miss anything?" Boriclav asked, without trying to seem too invasive.


https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V9Yq5m9eLIQ

(note: this portion of the story currently in progress)



*****

Boriclav sat again at his old table in Vladivostok, he was back to his old life, with his wife Svetlana and their little daughter.... as he shuffled through the mail, he saw there was a letter from Gergana, he opened it and thought back about their inexplicable adventures as flying banshees, zombie hunters before that and what happened after that.....

'Dear Boriclav,' the letter read, 'as I write this, i am in fact only a few miles from where you are presently located', 'Boriclav noted that, however the letter was dated September 23, 1948 which was almost a month ago already..... he thought back to that date and the letter seemed true: he was, in fact, in Vladivostok during that date, he looked at the post mark on the letter and it was stamped September 27th.... so it was sent four days after being written and had arrived three weeks later, however Boriclav could not understand post mark enough to see where exactly it was stamped, maybe it was posted from a ship, as the letter went on to say:

'I am currently on a ship leaving the port of Vladivostok bound for the Dutch East Indies where I am supposed to assist the Department of Anthropology, within the Ministry of Culture that I work for, Dr X from the Archangel Death Squad will summon you too, he told me, therefore I will see you at the ancient Temple ruins of a lost civilization, no longer known to man, on the island of Central Sulawesi, not far from the northern city, Manado, itself a little south of the Phillipines.... We are bringing some special equipment with us and quite a large of team of anthropologists and other Soviet scientists with us.... I will not arrive until the Fall, next april, but this letter should reach you well before that. Dr. X intends to have you flown out in July so I will see you next winter! Gergana.'

'сумасшедшая cyka,' thought Boriclav, throwing her letter onto the little fire next to his desk, 'that's what is called a 'crazy bitch' in english Boriclav ruminated, he had recommenced his english language studies after recently returning home from China.

tinkle, tinkle..... Boriclav's Romanov dynasty era phone rang.... 

'Da,' said Boriclav easily.... his adventure in Archangel zombie-land, along with his more recent experience in China, left him feeling extremely liberated, he no longer feared anything and was ready for anything life could throw at him, however, he had psychological flashbacks and various schizo-affective issues due to the monstrosity of his life as a flying buzzard and what not. Still, he learnt to wash it down with a glass of vodka or two and considered himself a lot better off than the people in the gulags, he couldn't complain, in fact, he wasn't complaining....

'Boriclav Illyivich? This is Doctor X, from the Archangel region you graced us with your visit some years ago now,' Doctor X announced, without even waiting for Boriclav to acknowledge he was the Boriclav in question. 'I trust you have received a letter from Gergana Ivanovich about a new project we are organizing in the Dutch East Indies?'

'I just threw it on the fire,' Boriclav retorted truthfully and fearlessly, he had nothing to be afraid of.

'Well look in the embers of your fire, and you will see you have actually thrown a small key into the fire that was taped inside the envelope you just burnt, go on dig it out, humor me, take it outside when it suits you, you will find under your mailbox there is a secret compartment hidden there, the key will open it, you will see that my agency respects your privacy greatly, and we do not wish to enter your home, therefore at your leisure, open the secret compartment with that key, and study the contents of the envelope there very carefully....'

'And if I don't want to?' asked Boriclav.

'Boriclav, believe me, you want to, and when you see what is there, you will be very interested, you would, in fact, call me if you had my number... just you see....' click, the phone went dead.

Boriclav did not immediately rush to fish the key out of the fire, by any means, in fact, he leaned back on his chair, lit a cigar with some small flames from the fire, noticed the key there as he did so, looked like gold he thought to himself, left the key there without touching it, and put his feet up on his table and smoked his cigar and poured himself some whisky.... after a moment, he procured a pair of tongs and gripped the key from out of the fire.

                                                                                   *

The following July Boriclav stepped down the slanting cargo bay hold of a Soviet military transport flight he'd embarked the day before from Vladisvostok..... it was hot in Vladisvostok the day before, but equally balmy and much more humid in Manado, Indonesia.... he was happy to leave his life behind him for this adventure... and Dr. X's promises held true, the envelope he'd had hidden under his letterbox seemed full of promise, and then some. Apart from everything else, he'd be managing a small elite team of sexy female  ex-NKVD agents who would be used as 'honey-traps' if and when required. The overall mission involved some super-secret archaeological relics, he didn't know anything about that yet, must be all on a need-to-know basis he figured. He settled into his quarters, unsure how long he'd be there and explored the small township.... later that night he lay by a lake next to a fire, some people from the expedition (there were hundreds) milled about.... Boriclav lay on his back and gazed at the stars.... over his head he saw a shape, a standing person, it turned out to be Gergana, he had forgotten about her....

"Zdrastvutye Comrade," she said looking down at him.

Bopiclav chose to ignore her, things were much too relaxing, the stars, the gentle lapping of the water, the murmur of other people around, the occasional gentle kiss of breeze. This went on for some time but then some more faces emerged above him, the five honey trap women from Dr X's dossier. They styled themselves as Fox Force 5, an elite team of deadly vixens, each with a specialty - knives, syringes, explosives, kung fu, etc. But for Bopiclav, they were treacherous, Bolshevik NKVD scum. He was also their handler now.


He placed a hand out hoping to be grasped and lifted from his prone, laid position on the jetty and nimbly sprang to his feet after grabbing an out-thrust hand. He surveyed the women as he got to his feet and they all clustered vaguely around him like they were expecting something from him, but he wasn't sure what, his briefings were hazy, he wasn't clear on what was going on. Being practical, he asked them if they were hungry, would they like to eat? There were some affirmative answers and it seemed some of them had just arrived from some other part of the world and wanted to find their quarters. Boriclav suggested they walk to the base and find their lodgings and food. Only one of them had a bag, by the looks of it, and a dainty but practical one, rectangular shaped. He looked at it but didn't offer to carry it, it was un-Sovietic and un-revolutionary to practice any kind of chivalry. The bag's owner bent her knees a little, as opposed to stooping down, to lift her bag up, Boriclav noticed by the way she did that that she had possibly had training in ballet, he decided to talk to her as they walked and so he waited for the others to proceed to the base while vaguely ushering the direction by looking towards it for the others to see, at the same time his body language clearly said he was waiting for the bag carrying ballet girl to fall in step with him. She must have been Tatiana Cherkov, he surmised.

"Where are you coming from Tatiana?" asked Boriclav.

"Scotland," Tatiana replied.

"Really?" said Boric switching over to English, maybe this woman would speak English and he could practice with her.

"Aye," she responded in a Scottish accent. Boriclav didn't know enough to tell a Scottish accent from some other accent but he listened to her anyway.

"How long have you been in Scotland now?" asked Boriclav, still in English.

"I've been over there some two months now, farst I was in Duneeeedin, then in Edinborough, lastly in Glasgow," said Tatiana in an extremely typical Scottish accent, it was as if she was born and raised in Scotland.

"And what were you doing there?" asked Boriclav?

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she said asked laughing, again, with a thick Scottish accent.

Boriclav knew a little about Tatiana from the files Dr. X had left him and from some other avenues he'd pursued. She was an extremely hot bitch but Boriclav considered her to be a traitor for selling her parents out to the local Bolshevik party reps in her native corner of Russia, a little north of Sochi, north of the Black Sea. Boriclav considered her to be very good looking, and by that Boriclav meant she had an excellent buxom physique, but not fat or plump or even too big looking, and very handsome facial features, very white skin, with rosy cheeks, and sensuous pursed lips, her eyes were very dark brown and also very charming and seductive. She was a hot bitch, there was no question. Boriclav ruminated on the conditions of Tatiana's childhood, at age seventeen she heard her father complaining about Comrade Stalin, she denounced him to one of her school teachers, later, in the middle of the night, NKVD reps came to take him away. He spent an entire week being tortured in various ways including sleep deprivation, having cigarettes put out on him, etc. He did not want to incriminate his wife in any way, not that there was anything criminal about her actions, but the NKVD wanted him to sign some trumped up confession anyway. In the end, despite their inability to really break him, he signed something in a semi-conscious, sleep deprived stupor. His wife was taken away later and given a ten year 'picnic' in the gulags. Tatiana went on to join her local Party affiliation and then was offered a position in the NKVD. In Moscow she received extensive training in foreign espionage, language training, use of weaponry and such like. She had been posted out to various Nations around England like Ireland, Scotland, Wales and England itself and also Cornwall. Her accent was always that of a pure Scot whenever she spoke English. The list of her achievements in espionage read like a jaw-dropping spy novel. She was ordered by the NKVD to seduce a number of important politicians and dignitaries. She did so with success and had successfully planted hearing devices in a number of British and even Irish government agencies, including the offices of the Prime Ministers and other top level cabinet members, all through the back door. Nobody knew she was a spy from Russia, everyone thought she was just Natalie the political adviser and lawyer from Edinburgh.


As the two proceeded to the main camp area, the other women went ahead so that by the time the two meandered slowly to the base, the others were gone and had time to pursue lodgings, food and etc.... two of the foxes that parted with them were the two Anastasias. Boriclav read limited information on their file: they were shit hot, the two of them single-handedly infiltrated the Manhattan Project in New Mexico run by the Americans to develop the nuclear weapons they eventually dropped on Hiroshima and Nagosaki, which Einstein said wouldn't be possible. The two had spirited the secrets of nuclear fission back to the Soviet Union so that Soviet scientists were speedily able to develop their own nuclear warheads and achieve a balance which would oversee the next four decades and more of relative global peace and stability. Boriclav knew the two of them were fluent English speakers and spoke like Texans, and were trained in highly intricate techniques of martial arts, so that with just a pinch and a well aimed thump with their fingers or an open hand, they could render a man twice their size unconscious and even dead.

He now noted the two had since changed into casual looking overalls and baseball caps and carried a fishing rod each and a wicker hamper, and trod barefoot...

"Boriclav!" called one gorgeous looking Anastasia to him in her boisterous little Texan voice, "let's go fishin'!"

"Right now!" echoed the other cheerily and laughed and skipped through a minuscule stream as the other followed her gaily.

Las dos muchachas llamadas Anastasia pisaron hacia un viejo camión que se encontraba aparcado ahí cerca, le dijo a Boriclav una de ellas,

"Везти!" tirándole unas llaves y Boriclav montó al camión y arrancó el motor mientras las dos muchachas se sentaron a su derecho.

"Куда мы идем?" preguntó Boriclav.

"Следуйте пути к озеру" contestó la Anastasia inmediatamente al lado de Boriclav.


Boriclav averigüó el camino y tiró para adelante, era suficientemente sencillo. Pasó unos instantes así hasta que a Boriclav se le ocurrió algo:


"вы сестры?" preguntó él ernestamente.


"мы близнецов," respondió en seguida la otra Anastasia al lado de la ventana.

"Понимаю

," dijo Boriclav y seguía manejando unos minutos en silencio.

Dentro de poco despejaron un poco del local y pudieron ya ver al enorme lago a que iban. Las dos muchachas sorprendió a Boriclav al empezar a quitar sus monos y Boriclav se distrajo para ver que llevaban debajo de los monos: trajes isotérmicos azules oscuros. Váya, que lindas, observó Boriclav a sí mismo. 

"Борислав, обратить его вспять к озеру, нажмите на красную кнопку, ждать нас, чтобы выйти из, припарковать грузовик на дереве, затем идти к нам," dijo la segunda Anastasia al lado de la ventana y las dos muchachas desaparecieron por una puertacica que habia detrás de la silla unica del camión. Boriclav no lo había notado hasta que las muchachas de repente escaparon por ella. 

"принести рыболовные удочки!" Dijo una de ellas por detrás, ya invisible a Boriclav. Boriclav hizo una maniobra y empezó a echar en marcha atrás hasta el fondo del lago hasta que ya no se atreveía más, encendió un cigarillo y se echó unas caladas fuertes, puso el freno de mano al camión y dió al botón rojo que indicaba Anastasia en el salpicadero. La parte atrás del camión empezó a subirse detrás de Boriclav mientras el lado al fondo del agua bajaba y de repente Boriclav escuchaba el rugido de un motor poderoso. Miró él en el cristal espejo a su izquierda, veía como el barco de las Anastasia se sometía al agua e iba rápidamente en marcha atrás hasta dar una media vuelta y marchaba para adelante, dando unas salpicaduras mientras iban las dos tías haciendo vueltas espectaculares, malgastando gasolina. Boriclav aparcó el camión y se atravesó hacia el barco de pie con ganas.

"Here's the deal Boriclav," said the blonder Anastasia with what looked like greener eyes, "we're going for a long, deep dive, my sister and I, you're gonna stay here on the boat and catch some fish for Friday's cook-up."

"When will you be back? What are you doing down there?" asked Boriclav, who didn't know anything remotely about nautical affairs like diving, fishing, boating, etc.

"What we're doing down there is classified, and you don't have security," said the other Anastasia, just bait a rod and see what you catch, there's a lot of fish in these waters, we'll be back by sundown, if we aren't it means we're dead so go back to base."

And with that the mysterious pair dumped themselves backwards simultaneously with their scuba tanks and mouthpieces and fancy gadgets and what not which they finished putting on while addressing Boriclav.

Fine thought Boriclav, as he watched the last of their bubbles disappear. He felt a little lazy to get started so first he made himself a coffee and smoked another cigarette. The gentle up and down rocking motion of the boat was pleasant to him and he by no means felt discomforted. In fact, he felt very safe, by and by, he began to examine one of the rods he'd brought from the truck to the boat. He chose one that liked him, and searched through one of the wicker hamper baskets of the two sisters and looked through the hooks. He found a big one, and then a bigger one and then an even bigger one. He decided to go big. Then he searched for some bait and finally found a hidden compartment by the rim of the boat, which was quite small, and only had one floor space, including the driver's seat which didn't even have a back-rest. 

Boriclav baited his hook and cast off. This is the life he thought as he sipped coffee. How miserably cold were the winters in Vladivostok, he thought, what a tropical paradise this is. Such were his thoughts as he brain sporadically and leisurely released dopamine through his pineal or pituitary gland or whichever damn fangled part of the brain or body handled that business. In a moment Boriclav was humming happily which only increased the pleasant dopaminey sensation.

Then, in what must have been a feat of beginner's luck, Boriclav had a bite, and it was no mean bite either. He barely had had time to finish his coffee when he felt a strong jerk that almost pulled the rod away from himself and into the water, but not quite. Now Boriclav's brain produced a little adrenalin, but nowhere near as much as would be the case a moment later when he landed his catch: a not fully grown tiger shark, about three and a half feet long. The boat itself was only about seven feet long. At first Boriclav figured he was just pulling a regular fish onto the little boat's sole platform, but when he landed the thing he started getting pretty scared. The shark thrashed around and lunged at Boriclav to bite him. If Boriclav peed himself at that point he wouldn't have even known it as his subconscious brain jumped into overdrive producing adrenalin and even testosterone as it switched over into flight or fight mode. All Boriclav was aware of first of all was the shark's big teeth snapping at his feet, his inability to swim well meant diving overboard could lead to his drowning or worse, he realized, being attacked by another shark, this one, in its own element, even stronger and scarier thought Boriclav. He decided to stay with the devil he knew. He started dancing, the first thing was to get nearer the shark's tail was all he could figure out, after that he'd keep stepping as necessary and look for a weapon.

Boriclav did so. There were no weapons. Boriclav spent at least the next twenty minutes on extreme tenterhooks. He could have crapped himself by this point without even noticing it. He shuffled a few times to different parts of the boat along the little ledge it had around the rim as the shark thrashed itself into different and scarier positions. Why wouldn't it just asphyxiate already? Thought Boriclav. At one point it looks like it was almost spent and Boriclav dared to squat on his little rim and touch around beneath the ledge that ran the boat's little perimeter trying to find a knife or something, even a hammer, when the shark gave another almight thrashing from its grave that really scared Boriclav at a level he never knew was possible. He bounded over the shark that almost bit his hand off and squatted again on the other side of the boat. His legs were jelly now, possibly due he was having a thyroid issue before the day had even broken, so his adrenal response to danger was impaired. His stage one adrenal response involving the hormone norepinephrine was long since over and his epinephrine stage two stress response kicked in about half an hour after he landed the shark on the boat. Another half an hour at least passed like this until he finally found a knife and began tentatively slaying the shark which could scare him at any moment with an unexpected thrust from its airy grave. 

Boriclav decapitated the shark and threw its head overboard. He checked himself for cuts and grazes but was okay, it turned out he had shat himself so he cleaned himself up fairly well, getting naked and later redressing. He gutted the shark too and later cleaned it.

By the time the sun had sank to the horizon, Boriclav sat on the boat floor with his back against the rim, the shark next to him, clean, a trophy and a testament to his struggle. He watched the orange splashes from the setting sun on the rippling water and sank into a deep state of meditation as his body struggled to restore itself after prolonged cortisol expression. He vaguely became aware of the voices to the two Anastasias who, had achieved their objective, finding an artifact at great length which they had been seeking. Boriclav barely could be interested in them by this stage of affairs, but he knew better than to mention what he had just been through. They congratulated him on his catch and headed back to shore, both of them were in good spirits after finding some small and meaningless looking little stone tablet, about an inch thick and a little bigger than a big man's palm.

All that trouble for a little tablet, thought Boriclav and dozed on the ride back to shore.

On shore, the camp was a lively hub of activity --- the smell of food was around, there were open-lit fires, guitars, the sky was hot and cloud-less....the two Anastasias took Boriclav's fish to be cooked on a fire-pit with skewers...... Boriclav ambled around and listened to conversation, he came to realize that the expedition to Indonesia involved some kind of special energy in the ground itself and something like an energy vortex. UFOs had been sighted, there was talk of teleportation, energy vortexes, artifacts from twenty years in the future. Boriclav could hardly believe his ears but these people were experts: nuclear physicists, musical theorists expert in harmonic principles, geologists, professional psychics and telepaths, etc.

People ate sporadically at various tables and makeshift tables around and about, there was no formality, makeshift fire-poles burnt brightly.... Boriclav took his first bite into the food, his mouth salivated like Pavlov's famous dog when it heard a bell ringing, his intestinal gases were steaming and flowing: he was hungry! His first mastication broke his tooth and he was surprised and felt its sharp edge and blood was flowing freely from it. His table-mates noticed his situation and he asked who had cooked the plate he was eating from.

"Some cultural ministry woman called Gergana," in the tent yonder. Boriclav nodded and reached down to a little bag that was at his feet, there was a German glock-styled handgun there and he discreetly pulled it out checked to see it was loaded as he walked to the mess tent, he proceeded to stick it in a shoulder holster by his left ribcage as he walked.

In the mess kitchen was Boriclav's old buddy Gergana, she was wearing a t-shirt that said 'MESS' on it. Boriclav was extremely upset, the first thing he did was pick up a can of 7/8 open baked beans.

"I'm terribly upset, incredibly upset," Boriclav said to Gergana, "I've just taken a bite from your baked beans and it's broken my tooth, there was a screw on my plate." True to see, Gergana did notice a big amount of blood coming out of his mouth. BAM! The next thing she noticed was the can in Boriclav's hand flying towards her and by her, baked beans flew out everywhere, including all over her. Then she saw Boriclav stepping towards her and pulling a gun out from his side. He really looked angry, not even really human anymore, just like some kind of monster. Boriclav grabbed her hair and pulled her down, she fell to her knees, he put his gun in her mouth. She was pretty scared now.

"You're gonna find me a dentist sweet pea, right now," Boriclav said. To Gergana, given the strained circumstances, it did seem best to acquiesce as she was in an unusually weakened position.

Some moments later, Boriclav laid back in a dental chair, with a slim male surgeon putting the finishing touches on his work, the dentist passes Boriclav a mirror and asks him,

"See it looks perfect, just the same as before you broke it?"

Boriclav turned his head this way and that, with the mirror in his hand, as the dentist removed one last cotton gauze from his mouth. Boriclav was very pleased with the dentist's work, and rubbed his tongue and then his finger over the work the dentist had done,

"That's perfect," said Boriclav, "I feel so much better now! Thank you dentist Urinova comrade."

And indeed Boriclav did feel better knowing his damaged tooth would be fine, but just as he was getting out of his eat, sorry, his seat, some authority types came along and said to him,

"Boriclav, before you got to the dentist tonight you fired some shots in the air, nobody got hurt, at least not around here, and we only hope we don't get a report of an injury from some of the locals should any of your bullets landed [sic] on them. We want you to attend some anger management courses, and as a discipline, you're work has been relegated to peeling potatoes and vodka distillery," said one of the security authority guys, and as an after thought added, "with said potatos." And then, just to seal the deal, the other security guy said: "And make sure you peel potatoes [sic] properly, nobody likes vodka made from potatoes covered in skin." They both bid adieu to Boriclav with one of them giving him a brotherly pinch, followed by gentle slaps on the cheek on his non-toothy side. Boriclav knew he'd be shot if he got too out of line but he never feared death so he didn't care.

The dentist walked out and Gergana walked in, it was just the two of them in the room. The little tiny muscles on Boriclav's jaws rippled as he clenched them.

"Boriclav, comrade, i'm very sorry about the screw in your mouth," Gergana said approaching him and putting a hand on his shoulder, "it was just an accident, I don't even know how it happened."

Weeks flew by, turning into months, the weather barely changed at all, being so close to the equator.... Boriclav busied himself in the days with kitchen duties and set up a distillery to produce vodka from potatoes which was in great demand. Over the weeks Boriclav listened to various conversations over mess tables and hot meals about various experiments, projects, etc, all of which seemed interesting. In fact, the different topics raised by the 'weird stuff' branch of the KGB present, telekinesis, ufos, psych ops, hypnosis, etc; while interesting, all of the talk seemed to have the effect on Boriclav of interesting him in autism. Apart from his duties which occupied his daytimes completely, and eating and playing cards in the evenings, drinking and smoking, always in moderation for Boriclav, he found himself schooling himself in the scholastic and experimental environment of the enclave/camp on the question of autism. He was particularly interested in texts written by autistic people that touched on their perceptions of their surroundings; any texts along these lines that seemed like spiritual texts to Boriclav were of interest to him, in fact, he was interested in finding a state of mind, spiritual or otherwise, that seemed to equate to the most spiritual seeming autistic texts he compiled. He was also interested in this as a matter of dispassionate disconnection and equated it to his understanding of the Buddhist notion of cessation of passion and desire.

Finally, some agents came through Boriclav's kitchen, talking about a substance which would cause an effect Boriclav had already undergone at Dr. X's death squad camp: turning into a Banshee. Boriclav listened to the agents and then surreptitiously procured some of their solution. One night in late August, he took the potion and saw himself morph again into his old banshee/bird form. He flapped his wings and took to the sky which was lit by a strong full moon, low to the horizon and a pallid orange in color, for some reason. Boriclav soared in a circular motion over the camp, he saw some vague figures below ambulating hither and thither. He made for a gigantic fir perched high up on the hillside nearest the camp and landed there. He instinctively sharpened his beak now against the fir's bark: he would need to hunt to satisfy his new and larger body which would soon need to be nourished. He recalled his desire to mate, as a human, and as a banshee, was similar in that he had no intention to mate, however, before even taking the solution only a few moments earlier, he had decided to visit his wife and child and the circumstance of being a banshee did not dim Boriclav's human will, despite not being human, his Soul was more or less unchanged. He flourished his beak a few more times against a rock hard branch of the fir and flapped his wings again. He would purloin some easy targets, sheep belonging to his camp, they would be unguarded and unchallenged. Then he would fly north to the Philippines where he would rest..

On the flight he came across a number of albatrosses, the biggest ones, which aren't found outside of the Pacific, they were only a little smaller than Boriclav's mass, a little under four yards wide in wing-span. They were adept at soaring at high altitudes with little effort and Boriclav studied their example and imitated it. After a time, things moved so quickly he realized he wouldn't need to stop in the Phillipines at all and could see its northern regions merge into the mighty ocean as the sun rose for another day. In the horizon Boriclav could clearly see China. He decided to doze off a little.

When he awoke, it was very strange; he looked at his wings and they appeared normal, static, soaring... but then he looked down and saw his human body, his thighs, arms, he was dressed in black. He touched his face, he was clean shaven, his hand brushed his forehead and felt his hair. He touched his nose, he was really a man again. He did a double-take at the wings, he realized he was seeing them outside a window and in fact he was in some kind of space craft which had a very small space inside for him to use. He was seated before a small panel with a screen and some buttons. His chair was extremely comfortable and moulded to his body. He looked outside the windows again to his sides, the wings looked just like his feathered body except now the feathers weren't ruffling and blowing in the wind but were static, it seemed they were now made out of some kind of hardened material like iron. The compartment he was in wouldn't permit even standing up, unless in a very crouched way, neither was there room to walk around, he was pretty much strapped in to his comfortable and futuristic looking seat. He wondered how he would relieve himself if he needed to pee or crap. He felt under his pants, he was wearing some kind of nappies. He had heard that long range bombers in development, like the TU-95, would require their pilots to wear nappies to relieve themselves on long flights, many of which involved mid-air refueling. But what kind of plane was this? And how was it it looked like his former body? He couldn't understand. 

He began playing with the controls in front of him and shocked himself by immediately shooting into the upper atmosphere and quickly into the space immediately outside Earth's orbit. In a matter of a few brief seconds, he'd gone from blue skies and albatrosses and the ocean below to black space and the gigantic glowing blue orb of the Earth right next to him. The temperature inside hadn't changed and some lighting within the cabin had augmented automatically. He learned how to control the ship to propel relatively short distances. He played with the controls some more, nothing was in Russian or any language, just pictures. He began to intuitively understand how to control the vessel and could even control it with his mind a little to a very small extent. He decided to reach out further, could he possibly arrive at Neptune? He did, very quickly, he found the acceleration control and slowed down a little to see if he could see other planets but nothing was in alignment. He found he could program Neptune in to the ship's computer by thinking it, then the image of Neptune he had in mind would reflect on the computer's screen, even with Russian words now. The ship was responsive to his mind. He hovered around Neptune now. This giant took 165 Earth years to orbit the Sun. He looked at the Sun, although it was kind of behind him, he noticed that the non-windowed spaces of the ship were now transparent, so that almost everything around him was now visible, although in fact, it was mostly all black however the distant stars shone in every direction, and some of the planets, probably Jupiter and Saturn and possibly Uranus were quite visible. He looked for Pluto but couldn't see it. But Neptune now took most of his vision. 

Intuitively he felt a connection to some greater mind, like God or something, and he understood that it would be safe for him to bring the craft down into Neptune's atmosphere. The winds there were raging at 2100 km per hour. There was nothing to see in any direction, just bright blue, like being under dirty water with goggles on, nothing was visible anyway. Again, he intuitively realized that he could adjust the ship's mechanism so that the perception of space would be adjusted with the ship's technology. With this in mind he tapped a button and suddenly Neptune's surface was visible in all its glory. What he was seeing was some kind of adjusted rendering of what Neptune would look like if its gases weren't swirling all around. His jaw dropped. He perceived icy pinnacles and crags and valleys and mountains all around. He explored this for some time, possibly over an hour. He thought about his nappy and realized that his time was finite, so he brought the ship out of Neptune's atmosphere and sat in contemplation, with the magnificent sight of stars all around. 

Again his intuition and a Force without, like a mighty Cosmic force, which was no longer an abstraction but a reality now for Boriclav, after what he had experienced since awaking only less than two hours earlier, led him to realize that he could in fact travel now from Neptune's atmosphere to a different Star system, and the journey would be instantaneous perhaps. Boriclav looked at the screen and saw some fuzzy looking stars but as he fixated at them, they corresponded more to his mind. Then a yellow circle appeared in the ship's transparent window panel to his rear left a little, indicating a tiny portion of the spherical starry reality around him. Boriclav realized his mind, attraction, the energy of the machine (spaceship) and his synergy with it, plus the computer screen itself, was drawing him to one particular star which was highlighted by a faint yellow line in the sky itself, artificially, that is, by the ship's technology. Boriclav realized he wished to go to this Star. He realized he had free Will and could bring the ship back to Earth and visit his daughter there, or do any number of things. But it was his Will, albeit in conjunction with some internal influences from possibly a greater mind, possibly God itself? That made Boriclav choose to go to that star. He tapped it on the computer screen and immediately the formerly starry night around him and Neptune disappeared. In fact, Boriclav's position by Neptune was approximately eight thousand years from the Star in question which Boriclav now was gliding towards only seconds later. He still hadn't crapped in his nappy or even peed yet, still two hours had not passed. Yet here he was now, gliding towards this new giant Sun, much bigger than Earth's and he could now see a planet he was gliding towards. He telepathically/mentally asked the ship to show him where Earth's Sun was and the window's came back to transparency and Earth's Sun (Sol) was revealed to Boriclav again with a computer generated yellow circle indicating it.

Boriclav realized that that tiny little silvery light was emitted from Earth's Sun approximately 8000 years ago, in approximately 6000 BC. Perhaps the Egyptians were building the pyramids in those days, or the Mongolians were first exploring Siberia? Surely the Chinese were there numbering some 80 million people already, this was practically an historical fact, as sticks from provincial governments in China recording births and deaths had in fact been unearthed in the 20th century from 5000 years beforehand; the world's oldest records. Boriclav then realized that to all extents and purposes, he had travelled back in time 8000 years, if only mentally, relative to his own planet, that was clear, because the light he was seeing from his Sun was emitted in the year 6000 BC, and he was seeing it bright and clear as if it were today.   

As he quickly pondered this, the ship came to a halt not far from a planet that Boriclav could not tell if it was bigger or smaller than Earth, not having a reference point. But he could see many other space craft in its orbit, some of them very big, so he must have arrived at a planet far more advanced than his own.

Boriclav looked at the Sun, he had left it a moment ago, and when he left it, its light would take 8000 years to arrive at his new location. That light was from around 1949 and was left far behind. It wouldn't arrive at his current location until 9949 a.d.... however it wasn't 9950 ad, was it? it couldn't be, because his journey didn't take 8000 years, it was a journey much faster than the speed of light, more like the speed of imagination or thought. It had only taken less than a minute since he left Neptune. But he was seeing the Sun's light all the same, and this light he was seeing left the sun 8000 years ago, so it left the sun around 6000BC. So actually it wasn't 6000BC but really 1950 still, right now, in Boriclav's present moment. Somehow Boriclav mused, time could not possibly exist and the past, present and future were actually part of the all-now/all-at-once. 

Boriclav surmised, there would be virtually infinite galaxies, therefore galaxies would exist 30,000 light years from Boriclav's present location, and even 100 million light years from there. So, really, Boriclav could travel 500 million light years away from Vladivostok, no problem, he was sure his machine would take  him there in only a few seconds. His machine didn't seem to have a problem with distance, lighting, producing air suitable for breathing. How about food and water? Computer, Boriclav commanded telepathically, give me food and water, materialize it now. The screen in front of Boriclav reacted kinetically to his mind, he pushed it more, he specifically wanted something like rice and meat. He mentally created his desire some more and then fully expected it to materialize soon, he actually needed to eat. A few seconds later his food and some water materialized. Boriclav ate and drank.

What was the point of staying around at this new planet a trifling 8000 light years away from Earth, Boriclav wondered? If God could make snowflakes of infinite shapes to cover Siberia every year, so that no two flakes would be the same, then surely he could do the same with stars and galaxies. What was it to Boriclav to die? The zombies at the archangel death squad fields had already died and just carried on living as undead. The mayhap pee zombies were even worse off. The people being tortured and brutalized and used as slave labor in the prison camps in Siberia like Solzhenitzyn, all of these people were better off dead. Death would be a reward to these people. Boriclav's life was not so special that he was in a hurry to return to it. His future was uncertain, under the bolsheviks, nobody could be certain of their fate, that was clear after the show trials Stalin had set up. Boriclav decided this new planet only 8000 years ago was too close to home, better to leave Russia even further behind, maybe Stalin would send someone after him anyway, one never knew, look what happened to Trotsky in Mexico. The NKVD were a devilish lot.

Boriclav set his computer for 500 billion light years away, then thought twice, wait a second, the sun is currently about 5 billion years old, so if i travel 60 billion light years away, then it's like i'm at a point in the creation that precedes the Sun's birth. The Universe the Milky Way galaxy was in, Boriclav's neck of the woods, his Universe, was conjectured by some Russian mathematician and physicists to be 14 billion years old approximately. Boriclav believed that similar to the Californian sport of surfing, he would be riding a wave that was finite, by taking his trip, but that the ocean, or creation, was virtually infinite, just like the Earth's ocean (relatively speaking). Therefore he wished to travel to a point in the universe 500 billion light years away from his present location (already 8000 light years away from Earth), in doing this, he hoped to travel to a place where the Earth's Sun hadn't even been born yet, computer, go that-a-way, a distance of 500 billion light years, Boriclav pressed a button and continued eating his rice. It was delicious, but he barely had a moment to swallow when his computer informed him that 20 billion light years away into his journey, he had arrived at an anti-gravitational barrier, that would bend any light towards it and effectively distort the speed of light constant, making it an irrelevant abstraction.

Boriclav was calm, and continued eating his rice. He had studied the ancient Indian teachings about the nights of Brahma. This theory postulated that there was a big bang theory, the universes and creation expanded, grew, waxed, waned, blinked out. Finished. Night of Brahma, nothing. Boriclav didn't believe something could come from nothing. A mighty oak could come from a seed, but a seed wasn't nothing, a seed was something, a small something, but still something. Therefore Boriclav surmised, while there might be days and nights of Brahma in the universe, like days and nights on Earth, or periods of activity/waking and passivity/sleep (which were really active periods for the body's subconscious to repair and strengthen the body); Boriclav surmised that while one section of the universe (his section, Vladivostok/Earth/the Sun) was in a night of Brahma now that he was 20 billion light years away from it, effectively, he had traveled so far that in terms of space-time, the sun wasn't even born yet, it was just an idea, a seed somewhere in God's loins, it was basically next to nothing, not even a black hole, just a future that hadn't been lived out yet. The rice tasted well.

Boriclav wondered how to pass the anti-gravitational barrier confronting him. He was certain that the creation was in active phases further on, despite that his own world had not yet been born yet, his Sun was still yet to be created. Boriclav was certain that the creation was infinite, and that it would never cease. Furthermore, he believed that the creation he knew on Earth was a miserable theater for fools and the insane, he didn't even believe it presented any kind of reality that could be taken seriously, it was all Maya: illusion. It was a play-pen for some Hierarchical powers to send the human Souls to keep them entertained, the way parents bring their children to a park. Boriclav didn't care for it, he had the bird, as he nicknamed his space-ship, which must have been a gift directly from God. Boriclav pondered the Nature of God, it seemed to be unknowable. Still, he had a creation to explore, and surely God had given him the bird in order for him to explore it. Still, God didn't seem to care about individuals one way or another, very much, God didn't seem to be a sentimental type. Boriclav didn't know where intelligent forces ended and God was just one all-pervading unity, free of relativity. It was a mystery.

Why am i stuck at this 20 billion light year limit? Computer, are there any nearby planets containing life? Boriclav asked the computer. The computer told him that to travel to that destination he would need to plot a total of twenty-eight different vectors as a straight line was not possible in this case due to anti-gravitational forces (something similar to black holes but like a million or more of them) blocking his path. Ok, vector what you need, just get me to 500 billion light years from Earth as soon as possible. Boriclav intuited this would happen in under a minute in any case, less time then it would take him to finish his rice. And sure enough, after having another spoonful of rice, Boriclav's bird's exterior un-blackened, indicating a less-than-the-speed-of-light cruising speed, there were quite a few stars about, at a great distance, and even a bluish cloud in one section that seemed to be a cluster of stars. 

Where are the nearest intelligent-life forms, similar to humans? Boriclav mused. Into his mind, from the computer, he received an answer: there were various life-forms within 1000 light years of his position, some were extremely advanced, in their last rounds of evolution, already capable of travelling faster than the speed of light, although not as fast as Boriclav's bird which was an extremely sophisticated piece of machinery, still many of them could fly to surrounding stars within a radius of 10,000 light years, which opened a big world to them. Other advanced life forms were all magicians, able to do many magical feats, like a book on wizards and sorcerers, but also far from the evolution needed for space travel. Other races were in periods of privation, holding on, like a seed, perhaps for millions of years, generation after generation, until, all of a sudden, they would flourish, triumph and break through, only to fail again in subsequent millions of years. Clearly evolution was an up and down, back and forth, round and round, kind of thing. Boriclav wished to find the nearest planet that was safe, had humanoids that were so far advanced that they were on the cusp of developing spaceships travelling faster than the speed to light, a place he could go and spend some time, change his nappy, meet some new people and not lose his life or have it threatened, maybe learn something, before he should go home, should he go home, to a place which, at the moment, hadn't begun to exist yet, since the Sun itself was not yet born in this part of the creation. Boriclav surmised that should he meet and greet a people like this, they would be far in advance of himself, furthermore, he absolutely insist he find a pacific people who would not arrest him and detain him on behalf of some scurrilous government. He hoped to find a kind of utopian, advanced people, who had sorted out their need to war, to kill animals for food, who were not blunderers relying on a limited energy source like oil to build a precarious house of cards above a quagmire.

Boriclav, sat and mused some more as he finished his rice meal that began many billions of lights years away. He had traveled so far, 500 billion light years away from Earth, with a speed so tremendous, that he was unable to even eat a simple dish of rice in the time the journey took. To all extents and purposes, he had entered a different dimension, a dimension in which his point of departure ceased to exist relative to the point of arrival. In fact, with his 28 point vector, his bird had effectively passed through 28 different dimensions. The planet Earth and its Sun no longer existed in the sense that they had not yet been created and wouldn't be created by God or from the loins of God, for many hundreds of billions of years hence. Likewise, Boriclav's current location, did not exist concurrently with the Earth and the Sun and the Milky Way galaxy. They were so far apart in time and space, that they did not exist concurrently. Paradoxically, everything that ever was or will be, is connected, this connection is God. And the fact that Earth had not yet come to be created meant it was in a Night of Brahma as the Hindus put it. Where Boriclav currently abode was in a Night of Brahma too when Earth was around to spawn Boriclav. The connecting points were 28 different bridges through creation, crossing each one, vectoring to different points, constituted inter-dimensional travel.

Space was very big, and Boriclav wondered if it wasn't God's wife. His eternal consort. Like Nut with the Egyptians or some Goddess with the Hindus. What was clear to Boriclav, is that something always exists at any given possibility to be entertained. There is not a total blackout of all galaxies after 100 billion years or so. His journey proved that. Boriclav also began to wonder if he hadn't been abducted by some extremely advanced beings for the sake of one of their experiments. Boriclav surmised that the level of evolution necessary to create spaceships like his bird required advanced psychic powers, all manner of telekinesis, telepathy, mind control, all the good stuff he had been learning about at the camp where Gergana had broken his tooth (if only he'd had gold or diamond teeth!). Boriclav wondered how some advanced beings might avoid the fate of their home planet being subjected to decay and cessation by finding new planets to live on. Surfing through the never-ending Cosmic play. These were all things of interest at the Ruski camp back in Indonesia, Boriclav cogitated. However, he doubted that his own government had set him up with the bird, there was no way. He must have simply been abducted by curious and advanced aliens experimenting on what happens when a member of an idiot life form (a human) is given a spaceship to play with. Clearly even his on-board computer was just a mechanism for these controllers to manipulate him. Hmmm, Boriclav wondered. It occurred to him that if he were to try to attempt the return journey to Vladivostok now, because of the principle of everything being inter-connected, even events yet to come, like the creation of planet Earth, are affected by happenings in Universes that preceded the creation of the Milky Way and ceased to exist before the Milky Way came to be, that somehow, what with the expanding galaxies and universes and what not, he wouldn't be able to return to exactly his time. He was somehow sure, inwardly, again, perhaps because of manipulation by some higher forces, that the nearest he would get to his time would be when his daughter Nikita would already be a woman in her 70s, around the year 2015. He could only begin to imagine what Russia would be like in those days, while it would be interesting to see, the disconnection from his own time, along with the constant reminders of something near to it, Russia, would end up making him feel uncomfortable and unhappy. Better if returning to return to his own time.

Boriclav continued to cogitate about God. Clearly God was big on groups, hierarchies, families, societies. Furthermore God wasn't averse to some violence and conflict and struggle. The way he set up animals in hierarchical struggle with each-other, often involving death matches, did it make God seem like some kind of bloodthirsty Roman public? Certainly God was something to be feared on some level, if God created humans and humans were able to instil so much fear in the underlings of God's Earthly creation, like all the animals, then surely God had already created greater things than humans, Boriclav already saw their spaceships at the planet 8000 light years from Earth. 

Boriclav considered fear, actually terror. In the match between the pride of lions and the gazelles, the lions were the alpha-predators, with virtually nothing to fear. The gazelles had every reason to fear, furthermore, the lions, despite being strong, would intentionally choose the weakest quarry for their dinner. Everything was using everything and everything was in inter-relationship with everything and everyone. Everyone could help everyone but unfortunately, things got raped, to put it one way, like the gazelle. Of every heartbeat in the Creation, a goodly percentage of them would be snuffed out by murder, for want of a better term. There always seemed to be a stronger predator, a stronger force. Boriclav surmised that the most advanced lifeforms, who were probably doing something mysterious on God's behalf, could probably be bested. There were too many things his little mind couldn't grasp, too many shadows to wonder at, and why get confused by shadows? What was clear to Boriclav was that he was being used in an experiment, but as it was interesting and he felt no terror, no fear at all, and closer to revealing the mystery of God once and for all to himself, thanks to the bird, therefore he consulted with the computer some more. How would it be if I take my chances with a civilization on the cusp of discovering interstellar travel, reveal myself to them? That's probably the best thing I could do right now he surmised, much better than returning home only to find myself in the year 2015 in Russia. Computer, Boriclav wondered to his computer...


Boriclav followed the computer's recommendation to a pacific planet whose people were indeed on the cusp of developing faster-than-the-speed-of-light technology. This planet had the unusual quirk of being divided into two main races: those that were more advanced in evolutionary terms, had ceased being a binary, bi-sexual race consisting of male/female members which was a standard manifestation of the law of Duality in the Creation. Here, after some very long, very slow processes, Nature had gradually tended one group on this planet, call it nambi-pambi-land to lose their gender. However, the other half, roughly speaking, of the planet still consisted of male-female members. Over many scores of generations, as various members of the society of male/females realized they were genetically mutating and becoming asexual and sexless, they would make the natural decision to go and live among the other Nation which was sexless/asexual/without gender. This was a voluntary decision. This was how things were on this planet, Boriclav discovered this on the bird's computer. It was this sexless race, that was now very close to discovering faster-than-light travel. This sexless race had also began to develop certain glands and genetic mutations or developments pertaining to the mind and it's ability to perform telepathy and telekinesis (mind controlling matter). Their sexless-ness, cessation of having male/female members, was a natural evolutionary effect, however the development of their glands pertaining to telepathy and telekinesis had been manipulated by themselves through selective breeding involving genetic manipulation. 

Both the sexless race and the binary male/female race were of the same racial stock although this, in its time, had been interfered with by other visiting aliens over the millennia (or earthly equivalent thereof). Both races were familiar with visitations from other-worlders from different stars although not necessarily in the same lifetime. Basically all of the Souls on this planet had a strong spiritual identity that was beyond destruction (permanent spiritual failure/ultimate death), so that even if they couldn't recall receiving other worldly visitors in their allotted lifetime, they could remember it possibly from a previous lifetime five or more lifetimes ago on that planet. Boriclav studies various other aspects of the planet on his computer. They had long since discovered unlimited energy which is a key technological barrier for all civilizations in the Creation, which can only be mastered by Nations who have reached a level of spiritual integrity where this would not involve destruction or enslavement or tyranny by those wielding this power. However travelling to other stars was still not an option for them as various aspects of physics necessary for it was beyond their grasp. 

In societies around the Universes (the Creation), past, present and future (in the all-now), that have discovered unlimited energy, often great energy based on the nuclear elements as yet unknown to Earth scientists: the unlimited energy that comes from mastering the unified-field-theory-energy (all material manifestation is manifested from one primary energy). In societies that have mastered this, just like the cavemen that master agriculture, a whole new level of civilization comes about. There is no want, no schlepping about and competitiveness. No ridiculous pride and ridiculous self-aggrandizement for stupid accomplishments. Everybody can have whatever they want, on a material level, because unlimited energy is available. However, to channel this into a bird that can fly to other planets is a whole different task, one that occupied the scientists from the sexless race, but which did not concern the scientists from the binary male/female race who concerned themselves with other matters. It should be added here that religion and science were all the same thing to the denizens of this planet, regardless of whether they were sexless or binary (male and female).

Boriclav decided he would start out by approaching the binary race first, he programmed his bird to the planet, approximately 100,000 light years from his exit from the last dimension, a journey that took a heartbeat of time, if that. As Boriclav's bird entered nambi-pambi-land's atmosphere anyone there that saw it would have seen a jelly-like blob shape-shifting in the sky as Boriclav brought 28 different dimensions and 500 billion light years of energy with various centers of gravity to bear on that world. As this happened Boriclav himself saw he was standing in the kitchen where he had been peeling potatoes about twenty hours beforehand (so far as his body rhythms were concerned) when the NKVD agents he'd stolen the banshee solution from were, at that exact moment, walking out of the kitchen after getting their vodka. Boriclav's knees began to shake, he saw his apron and the potatoes everywhere and his vision started to cloud up and blacken out, he sank down low to the ground in case he collapsed and began to shake a little as if having some kind of epileptic attack, his mind became completely open to God only knows what, his hands were on the floor now and his knees were on the floor too and he was shaking and about to collapse at any moment and he could see nothing although his eyes were open. In his mind he was experiencing a kind of epileptic moment of timelessness, an awareness of a plane without time, he could also hear sound that sounded distorted. Now he was away from the kitchen in Indonesia and back in his spaceship entering the atmosphere of nambi-pambi-land. What was that that had just happened? Nevermind, he would need to find a friend on this planet. Then he noticed he was wearing wristbands and touched his forehead and there was a crown there. On his wristbands were written in Russian 'ultimate power' and he perceived that his crown would allow him to communicate telepathically with basically any sentient being in the Universes (such inventions, were in fact commonplace in some parts of the creation already, or had been, or will be, depending on whether the universes were created yet or no). He perceived that his wristbands would enforce any kind of wish he willed, in other words, they would manipulate the unified-field-energy around him in such a way that he could will any kind of protective force-field, manifest whatever he willed, or even tell a mountain to go and take a jump into the ocean (and it would do it). He didn't need faith either, he had ultimate power wristbands. This technology too, was commonplace in more advanced worlds.

Furthermore, he had propulsion boots. Between his boots, armbands and diadem, Boriclav perceived he would fly with his body as he willed while his spaceship would disappear to all extents and purposes using the principle of dematerialization/rematerialization which was barely known in the Creation and already the province of the highest Gods. Boriclav didn't understand how any of it worked, he only perceived that now he wielded this power and it was God Almighty's will, for whatever reason. In short, Boriclav had technology of the highest, most powerful order, he didn't need a helmet or an artificial air supply as his technology would create an artificial bubble around him, producing an ideal climate in an immediate sphere around him. His boots would allow him to fly whither he willed. 

Boriclav's bird hovered over a cloud filled sky, he knew it would disappear now and he'd have to fly and that's just what happened. Normally, it would be too cold, but his technology regulated for that and created a wind-free, cold-free artificially adjusted environment around him, his bird ceased to be, he was sure he would see it again later, he now got used to flying, should he point his feet where he wanted to go or flatten out like a bird? He decided to flatten out and plunged beneath the clouds to see what lay below.

Beneath the clouds it appeared to Boriclav that this world didn't care for big cities, metropoli, at all. All settlements were spread out, few buildings were over a story high. Some of the buildings floated, others were built within the structure of living trees, he saw houses incorporated into caves and hillsides. Others rested on normal foundations. Judging by the floating houses, the locals had mastered various aspects of the unified-field (primary material energy). He didn't see any flying vehicles but later he learnt the locals had mastered teleportation of objects around their world. He did not see any bodies of water whatsoever, in the hour or so he spent flying around, observing. Neither did he see any smoke producing factories. He felt like a child that had stolen a car and gone for a joyride, he had no idea what was going on. He noticed also that there were no domestic animals like dogs, cats, chickens, etc. There were, however, many trees, and forests. But not a single lake or pool of water. Strange though, as there was a canopy of clouds he'd gone through not so long ago. Finally, following his internal compass, he noticed a humble dwelling somewhat aloof from others and decided to land there. He figured he'd soiled his nappy and would need to clean up. It was unclear when that occurred although possibly at the time of his epileptic blackout upon entering this world's atmosphere. 

Boriclav executed a neat feet-first landing in the small garden of the aloof and humble house he'd chosen to grace. He walked to the door and knocked, he didn't feel wobbly after all that flying, just gross like he needed a nappy change and some space to chill in, homely comforts, after spending almost a day cooped up in his little spaceship. The door opened and the being that met Boriclav's eyes did not surprise him overly as he'd seen a few ambling about during his recon flight. Suffice to say it followed the basic pattern humans slotted in with which is the bipedal, two-armed, one-headed model. The being definitely looked startled. Boriclav thought about shaking its hand, which was a chunky, stumpy thing, almost like a paw, but then perceived internally that his artificial atmosphere which protected him and regulated his air and temperature, might not be compliant to touching these aliens who were from a time and space before his own, as it were. Boriclav remembered that his Galaxy, the Milky Way, had not yet been born yet. Conditions here were different and Boriclav realized he'd better avoid touching people here for their own benefit. Instead Boriclav motioned with his hand open and a friendly gesture on his face, as if to say, 'hello friend, will you welcome me into your home?', which he did, in fact, say to the host mentally. The host understood and graciously accepted him, he was however, exceedingly curious but not fearful. Boriclav could perceive this easily from the creature's atmosphere. The host gestured he sit at the kitchen table, just like in Russia. How comfortable that will be, thought Boriclav, however he needed to clean himself up. 'Water closet?' 'Bathroom' Boriclav asked the creature telepathically. This drew blanks. Clearly from the creature's atmosphere, he was not alarmed nor panicked and feeling urgently the need to raise an alarm. Boriclav could perceive this psychically, very possibly due to the diadem he wore on his head. The host did not, however, understand Boriclav's psychic representations about toilet-related matters. Later Boriclav would learn that these creatures, despite their technological sophistication, were given to relieving themselves outdoors at all times. Their waste functions were very similar to humans, poop and pee, however their poop was always very well regulated, as they never deviated from perfect harmony with Cosmic Laws in matters of diet, therefore it was very rare they would need to clean their butts after pooping, similar to four-legged mammals on Earth. Their poop was like little pellets, kind of like sheep poop on Earth only larger. 

'Relieve body waste,' finally the alien's face made a look that indicated understanding. The alien beckoned Boriclav through his little home and into the backyard. The one room, apart from the kitchen, that they walked through was dark and scarcely lit, Boriclav wondered if they were actually books he could see lining something that could have been a shelf. In the backyard, the alien indicated to Boriclav to relieve himself there. Boriclav asked for some water. This again drew a blank. Boriclav recalled not seeing any water around the surface. No matter, Boriclav remembered he had his power gauntlets, he'd manifest whatever he needed. Go invisible, give me wet wipes, Boriclav commanded his gauntlets, in such a way as avoid the alien being privy to those commands. Thus Boriclav quickly cleaned himself up and commanded his soiled nappy and wet wipes to de-materialize, this they did at his will, without producing smoke. Boriclav walked around to the front of the alien's home, invisibly, without bothering to look to see whether the alien was trying to see him or where the alien was, as a matter of decorum. The front door was open and the alien was in the kitchen preparing things to put on the table for Boriclav. How homely, thought Boriclav and walked through the front door and sat at the table, being sure to be visible upon crossing the home's threshold. 

So it came about that the two sat down to eat together, Boriclav did notice some extremely sophisticated looking technology, hand-held devices, etc, that possibly were used to instantly cook food, something he couldn't understand.... still there was a lot of simplistic, seemingly hand-crafted objects such as wooden bowls and cooking vessels, etc. It appeared that the local people actually took the time to make these items, despite having a wealth of technological resources which they could use to save the trouble. Boriclav decided to make this a point of telepathic conversation with the Glart which was how his host identified his own identity. It was unclear if that was his people's identity, his tribe's, his own, or what. Anyway, the Glart explained that technology was very dangerous as it had the potential to enslave and corrupt people and that survival depended on spiritual integrity in a people, and that building character, doing meaningful work, striving for excellence were all things that superseded a dangerous and beggarly reliance on technology which assuredly would enslave and corrupt races, even to the point of driving them to self-destruction, or general devolution, which was time wasting and weak.

The Glart went on to explain that previous cycles in his own race's long past evolution involved tragedies and dangers and failures and wars which, long after the fact, were realized to be derived from the corruption inherent in new technologies. This did not mean that the Glart's people would avoid using sophisticated technology, merely that it was always a spiritual affair in harmony with their great spirituality. Their wisdom entailed a perfect compendium of the most sophisticated technology, as well as pseudo-magical/pseudo-technological affairs such as crystals and quartzes for seeing the future, etc, but also simple workmanship with impregnated their objects and their work with their peaceful and loving natures. 

The Glart then went on to shock Boriclav by showing him his Slart. The Glart's Slart was in fact the Glart's offspring however what shocked Boriclav was that the Glart produced the Slart without mating. The Slart was a kind of gel which oozed from the Glart's abdomen and which the Glart clucked over on some kind of device which seemed to be an open-air incubator of sorts. The Slart was just a pile of transparent looking jelly, like hair gel or something, about five ounces in weight. The Glart explained that it would mature until producing a normal bipedal form, but very small, which would then grow more rapidly and mature completely in about ten years.

As Boriclav had seen on the computer when he was all up inside his bird, this planet's inhabitants were either of two sexes, or evolving into just one sex, however he didn't realize until now, that the process was very slow, and that those who had ceased procreating with the opposite sex, could still spawn offspring, Slart, through oozing gel. This was also true of the females who, like the Glart, could reproduce asexually, without entertaining any kind of relations or mating with the opposite gender. The Glart explained to Boriclav that some of their race continued in arrangements of companionship and mating between opposite sexes, some males and females like Glart merely reproduced alone, and the most evolved among them no longer had any kind of differentiating anatomical features that distinguished differences between the sexes, they merely become flat and smooth down there, losing their junk, as it were. These more advanced Shlarts (as their race overall were called, all of Nambi-Pambi's peoples) would still reproduce in the gel-oozing way that Glart evinced.

Boriclav paid careful attention to the Glart's telepathic message, but he refused to ponder it at the time as he did not wish the Glart to be aware of his ignorance or level of mentality. Therefore he focused instead on his diadem and keeping his mind hidden from the Glart, effectively seeming receptive to the Glart who then went on to explain more. 


Therefore, somehow, the two living, breathing beings, from different times and places in the never-ending space-time continuum sat opposite each other and ate and communicated telepathically. The one a time/space traveler from a world that had not technically come to be yet, and the other at home in his advanced planet where nobody ate meat, nor warred, nor killed, nor even needed words to communicate, nor computers to communicate. Now it came to be after a time like this that an ornamental device that Boriclav had noticed which seemed like nothing more than some pretty ornate water-spewing miniature, decorative waterfall on the table began to emit a green light and Boriclav realized that his host thereupon began focusing his attention on the device. The device in fact merely worked to get the host's attention to some beings that wished to communicate with him, however these beings did so telepathically, without any relaying from the green-lighted waterfall which served only to arrest a user's attention briefly. In passing, we will mention that Boriclav's technology transmuted any food he consumed into something useful and palatable for his own body, regardless of the mineral content of the alien planet. Likewise his technology, transmuted the nitrogen rich air of the planet into something suitable for his own lungs. Boriclav was not privy to the telepathic communication his host was presently receiving however he did realize that the host was focused on some kind of message, this he intuited. A moment later the host explained to him that there was a visiting spaceship in the vicinity and that the two of them were summoned to visit it. Boriclav gathered from this and their prior conversation over their meal, that the Shlarts often received visitors from other worlds travelling in faster-than-the-speed-of-light vehicles. Boriclav readily agreed to depart immediately with his host and the two did so. The Shlarts were adept at levitation so the two flew there without any machine to help them however the Shlart was slow to move so they didn't travel as fast as Boriclav would have preferred.


As they flew or levitated along, the Shlart by merely floating a foot or so above the planet's surface and moving forward slowly at about 50mph and Boriclav who adopted a similar way to move, the two continued communicating telepathically. The Shlart made it clear to Boriclav that while alien visitors to Nambi-Pambi land were carefully documented, they were not, particularly, frequent. There might be two unrelated visits in a year and then nothing for twenty-six years. This is a simple way of explaining the timing involved, however, in fact, Nambi-Pambi planet was part of a binary sun system and sometimes Nambi-Pambi revolved around one sun, but at other times it was sucked into the orbit of the other sun and it was all very irregular, so twenty-six years is a reasonable comparison to Earth life however the various factors involved, in fact, make the two impossible to compare, somewhat like apples and cacti. Most visitors to Nambi-Pambi land were happening upon it for the first time and interested in the local lifeforms however they were unwilling to intervene in their karmic lot for the sake of advancing their technological understanding, which was, in any case, ripe for the advent of faster-than-the-speed-of-light technology. Visitors like Boriclav, from worlds which had not even been created yet and star systems that were yet to be born were unknown. If there were others like Boriclav, perhaps the Shlarts of Nambi-Pambi land would not be aware of it. Boriclav certainly did not reveal his origin to the Shlart. As it were, after a signal from the Shlart to Boriclav, an enormous and majestic somewhat horse-shoe shaped spaceship in the sky manifested itself from invisibility, some few hundred yards wide. The Shlart requested Boriclav carry him up to the spaceship as his levitation skills only served him to travel a short distance from Nambi-Pambi land's surface due to forces comparable to gravity on Earth (keeping in mind Nambi-Pambi land [pronounced Nambye-Pambye land] was subject to complex forces of attraction and repulsion from two Suns and various satellites). Boriclav obliged him and they quickly flew to the spaceship some miles up in the sky. On the journey up, Boriclav intuited or realized that whatever Cosmic Force had been responsible for giving him the bird and guiding him to Neptune and beyond the Milky Way's birth and space-time heat/existence signature, to the world he found  himself on, was waiting for him on the big horse-shoe shaped flying city he was fast approaching with the Shlart on his back.

As the two approached an obvious opening in the ship's luminescent hull, Boriclav remembered Glart's Slart and asked him about it. The Glart reassured him that the Slart was incubating nicely in a kind of incubation oven the Glart had showed him. Well that was a relief, thought Boriclav to himself and the two set their feet upon the spaceship's interior.

After some time alone, communicating the two of them. A luminous presence made itself manifest among them, it was somewhat articulated in its form however it was mostly a powerful, non-blinding, but majestic seeming white light, approximately in the usual quadri-pedal gingerbread man form that seemed to be a standard, around the Universes. Boriclav intuited that this was the Intelligence that had brought him to this far-flung and unusual point. With the Radiant God, as Boriclav thought of the being, was a human looking baby, no older than a year and half looking. The baby wielded a small staff of beaming light. The Shining God directed the baby, that floated in the air, to a part nearby of the ship and it appeared the child began welding it with it's shining light. Boriclav was amazed that the baby could perform such sophisticated tasks and addressed himself to the Radiant God about it.

He was informed, telepathically, or vibrationally, without voice or throat or vocal chords, that the flying baby with the advanced technology shifter, fixing the mother-ship, no more than two years old, was, in fact, his own flesh and blood son. Boriclav was informed by the Radiant God that He and His team were personally responsible for seeding planet Earth with mammalian life, including the platypus of Australia, millions of years before Boriclav's son was born. Boriclav couldn't understand how the boy could be his son when, in fact, he only had a daughter who could not do anything practical like fix an advanced, gigantic space ship, with a kind of super-advanced shifter. Boriclav was informed that the boy was born after his daughter although it never occurred to him to ask who the mother was of the child. The Radiant God informed him that occasionally, higher beings to humans would visit Earth to perform routine maintenance on the giant organic matrix: the ancient living Planet itself, the oldest living thing on Earth itself was the very Earth itself, which was very much alive, the Radiant God informed Boriclav. The Radiant God informed Boriclav, that despite his understanding of science and Darwinism, the precursors to humans were not monkeys and that the precursors to humans were in fact there before the Mammalian life such as dolphins, platypus, dogs, cats, etc. The Radiant God said his people were not responsible for Humans, only Mammalian life on Earth (animals) and that Boriclav and his son, who was born at some future point from the time Boriclav had left the Earth from his last known point there nearby China, as he was flying, or else in Indonesia in the kitchen as he time-warped meta-tastized back and forth in the rippling space-time continuum (both points in time were co-equal on the plane of existence where time does not exist as an absolute value but as a differentiated phase of consciousness. Mathematically, if consciousness = G, time as a non absolute value is related to G as the term: PT - perceived time.... the ratio linking G to PT is a definite ratio but is not herein described as there needs to something to relate them to. Incidentally, light is not a constant value at all and the speed of light is neither a constant value as its speed is dependent on gravitational forces (or actually forces of attraction and repulsion, e.g., the speed of light is extremely differential around black holes.)

The Radiant God informed Boriclav that the denizens of his current planet, Nambi-pambi land, were more similar to some of the far distant past precursors to his current day mankind of 20th century Earth, or even more similar biologically to humans to come to Earth millions of years in the future of the Earth Boriclav knew (ie., in terms of their ability to reproduce asexually). The God informed Boriclav that the ideal way to study how humans were millions of years before even the advent even of  the cold-blooded dinosaurs (certainly not the Radiant God's work, but the work of a different Cosmic Team), was to study the progress of the human embryo from day one as it encapsulated many millions of years of human evolution in a nine month period. The Radiant God informed Boriclav that nine was a very special number and allowed the possibility to quantum leap to different dimensions and plateaus. His ability to travel to nambi-pambi land was based on a masterful use of the harmonics of the number nine, particular in it's multiple expressions of itself, such as nine times nine, and eighty-one times nine, etc. The Radiant God informed Boriclav that He could engage his son in a practical, meaningful way, because he could command his Soul directly, in a peaceful, non disturbing way, so that his son was happy to help with the repairs of the mother-ship.

Boriclav was not really the stay-at-home father type, back home, his wife took care of their only child, a daughter, and Boriclav, like most men, didn't spend more than a few hours at most with his child in the evenings. Furthermore, when she was the age of the child with the Radiant God, about eighteen months old, she was a very clumsy girl, prone to knocking things over, like all children, a walking disaster and menace to their own personal safety and the safety of general items around them. What a stark contrast to this boy with the Radiant God that flew some meters above him, in a lofty cavern of the gigantic spaceship.
"Where is the mother of this boy?" Boriclav asked the Radiant God telepathically. In response, the Radiant God gently wafted down towards Boriclav to stand in front of him on the platform he was on. As it did so, it shed its visible hue of shining white light and it appeared to Boriclav that the Radiant God was in fact a woman. A very good looking woman too. Boriclav surveyed her curves, she wore tight black pants and black boots to her knees. Her top was tight and her face was beautiful to look at. Her hair was long and black and fell down straight to her waist. She reminded Boriclav of a prancing pony, with her little straight legs and thighs and magnificent mane of hair. Her eyes beamed at Boriclav and she spoke to him with her voice, her neck was whitish and smooth:

"I am the boy's mother," and smiled at Boriclav.

Boriclav was surprised, but nothing could shock him. He had seen a lot of crazy stuff back in Russia. For example, in the late 1920s, when the Bolsheviks reformed the divorce laws, things got really crazy in Russia. Boriclav recalled some of his cousins, who were later taken away in various purges to workcamps and never heard from again. His cousins were all female and some of them were considered strong looking farm workers and were selected by some villager boys' families for their strength: just to use them for one harvest and then be divorced. It was ridiculous and happening all over Russia. Young men of no more than twenty-two years of age were boasting amongst eachother of having moved on to their third or fourth marriage: so easy had the Bolsheviks made it to divorce. Boriclav's cousins believed they were marrying into good hard working farming families, only to be discarded after they were used for the harvest. Children of many short-lived and generally fruitless marriages were abandoned by both parents who had gone on to marry other partners and left as wards of the State. This suited the Bolshevik theoreticians just fine, as they preferred children to be under control of the State. But the State couldn't care for them and no-one else would bother, there wasn't even money enough for them or an orphanage or anything, so the children suffered as a result of the failure of the family unit which is the backbone of human society.

No. Boriclav's providence in time and space was so full-on, so crazy and so hardcore, there was absolutely nothing this divine looking, gorgeous little space woman could tell him that would really shock him. In fact, nothing that had occurred to him in his entire life, including transforming into a giant flying rook had really surprised him much.

"So I feel like I am meeting you for the first time, yet we had an eighteen month old child together, you say. How is this possible?" Boriclav asked with genuine curiosity.

"It's complicated to explain," answered the black haired Goddess, "time travel is complicated. Remember that we are now in a point in the space-time continuum, the rolling Creation that never ends, in which your entire Galaxy, the milky way, has not even been born yet. So though it seems strange to you, that we are meeting now for the first time, the truth is that we have in fact, met before, on your planet, and I brought you to a hidden base that my people use in the mountains of Turkey, to the southwest of Russia, and there it was that we let this child come through us together."

"Is that so?" asked Boriclav, nonplussed. "So we had a relationship? We talked, we spent time together, did you let me stroke your hair? Did I caress your pretty cheeks and look into your eyes? Did I kiss you? Did we make sweet love under the stars?"

"Yes, that's precisely what happened, it was only one night, I chose you, took you away, that's exactly what happened, just as you described it, and then I returned you to your life."

Boriclav thought about his life, it had been a little crazy but was not particularly any crazier than anything the average Russian from his generation might expect to go through, in fact, Boriclav even had it better than most people in many respects. Future generations of Russians would never understand what his generation had to go through to quickly industrialize and transform Russia so rapidly from such archaic backwardness to such technological strength in so short a time.

"Well it's easy to see why I would have done something like that with such a pretty thing as yourself," Boriclav said and took the space-alien's hand and gave her a kiss on her fingers.

The space woman smiled back at him and told him that their relationship was ending and he would never see her again in person ever, or talk or communicate or anything like that. He could keep a locket around his neck with a picture of her as a keepsake. She also informed him that the child would stay with him, on Earth, and that he would be going home very soon. As she did so the child floated down toward them and the shifter tool it had been wielding so professionally fell from its fist and the space-alien mother caught it. The child flew into Boriclav's arms and she patted the child's head and smiled and told Boriclav to never let it fall as it would never fly again like that.

"Maybe one day, when you're an old man Boriclav, on your death bed, you will remember me and this strange experience, and understand that.... well, never mind, although you will easily forget our brief family life together, the three of us, this moment, on this ship, right here, right now.... take care of the child Boriclav," the space alien woman said.

"What is his name? Is there anything special I need to know to take care of him? He has half of your genes, doesn't he? Can he survive on Earth?"

The beautiful looking space alien woman with the pretty, long black hair and the gorgeous buxom arse and kick-arse thighs and legs and all round general foxiness gave Boriclav a wink and a pat on the shoulder, "Goodbye!" she said and waved at both of them with a smile.

Boriclav blinked and all of a sudden he was back on the mountaintop by the camp with the people from his expedition in Indonesia. He was confused. How long ago had he left them? The child was stirring in his arms. He had nothing to feed it. He would need to find a woman. He started down the path towards the main camp. There were plenty of women there.

As he walked down the path he gauged the position of the sun. How curious, in English, Boriclav realized now for the first time that sun and son were always pronounced the same way. The sun said it was approaching midday. He had no idea how long he had been away. He stroked his facial hair to see how much was there and tried to remember how long it was before he turned into a giant flying rook so recently. It was difficult to remember. But he was sure it wasn't very long as he always shaved every two or three days with a razor he'd managed to keep with him in tact, even during his adventures at Archangel. His facial hair time-clock indicated no more than a few days had passed, maybe three, since he'd last left the island. He looked at his son, studying his facial features for the first time now. Did he look similar enough to his daughter to pass them off as brother and sister somehow? He wasn't sure. The boy had certainly taken on the look of his mother, but at the same time, it definitely bore a resemblance to himself. He continued walking along, descending the mountain, now close to the beach. All of a sudden he literally bumped into Gergana. Neither of them were looking where they were going and the boy broke his peaceful babble to cry at the start he had been given.

"Who is that boy Boriclav, what is his name?" Gergana asked.

Boriclav gave her the boy to hold and asked her what he thought the boy's name would be. Gergana admitted she didn't know, in a tone that indicated she thought that was a strange question. So Boriclav just looked at her and waited for an answer. So she shrugged her shoulders and said, "I don't know, is it Adam?" she guessed feebly.

Boriclav was an excellent bullshitter and affirmed that the boy's name was Adam as though it was common knowledge and an Absolute fact. The reality is that Boriclav had just made the boy's acquaintance in the amount of time it took his facial hair to grow a thousandth of a millimeter. And he'd just enjoyed the only family life he would ever share with the boy's biological mother. Boriclav regarded Gergana. She was a decent woman, kind of, and they had a shared history together now, she was the person he knew best on the little Indonesian island. He would leave the boy with her for the time being.

"Take care of Adam, Gergana, I need to have a shower," and with that Boriclav walked off towards the camp. His stomach was rumbling. He just wasn't the kind of guy to spend his entire day taking care of little children, that was what women were for.

At the camp Boriclav went to the kitchen where he'd previously been a potato peeler. He remembered how entering into Nambi-Pambi's atmosphere he'd blacked out somewhat and really felt himself to be back at the kitchen there peeling potatoes, just as he was a few days before that in the exact same way when some of the agents he'd subsequently stolen the rook formula from happened by. Wow, complicated, thought Boriclav. All of the crazy prior events meant he'd developed an attitude: a bad attitude towards work. He wasn't going to do any. He fetched some food and made for a hammock on the beach between two palms. That was home, he'd be working the hammock for the rest of the day. If anyone was dumb enough to ask him to lift a finger to so much as block the sun from his eyes: forget about it. Boriclav crawled into his hammock, ate and swung. He fell asleep.

When he woke up he was sunburnt. It was nearing dusk. There was a bunch of hubbub and commotion at the base. Nobody seemed to notice him, maybe he was invisible or something. He checked his pants as he lay on the hammock smarting from the bruising the sun's mighty rays had given him during his sleep. His eyebrows raised: he was wearing a sanitary nappy, like some kind of long-distance jet pilot. The visit to Nambi-Pambi land wasn't just a dream? He was baffled. He went to the latrine. He'd meant to shower earlier but hadn't. Instead he'd just fallen asleep and crapped his pants while the sun fried his skin. Now he removed his nappy and had a shower. As he showered he stared at the nappy. He'd put it on so recently in the backyard of the friendly Nambi-Pambi alien he'd flown to the mothership.

He turned the shower off, the sun had gone down, everything was quiet. He pensively watched the water drip, drip, as he slowly towel dried himself. There were some quiet rhythmic sounds of crickets or something like that, kind of made him feel like he was in Africa, everything was so alien here. The weather was balmy. He was tired! He grabbed a blanket from the storeroom adjoining the shower stalls and found a small bed in an alcove and lay down again. Although he'd slept various hours, he would go to sleep again immediately, feeling tired still, but first, after tidying up the bed, he drank a lot of water: he was dehydrated.

The next morning he woke up and blearily stepped outside the shower stall/storeroom bungalow he was in. There was the familiar sight of the two Anastasias. They were dressed in overalls.

"Boriclav!" called out one of the Anastasia's boisterously, "let's go fishing!"

What? Deja-vu? Hadn't this happened months ago? Before he'd lost his tooth to the metallic object in his beans? He rubbed his tongue over the missing gap where his tooth used to be.... it was still there! This was before he'd lost his tooth? This was repeating the time he'd already experienced with these two scuba diving women? And the shark? And the experience travelling through space? Nambi-pambi land, did he just dream that over the night? Surely that was a dream, but he knew for a fact he'd gone fishing with these two women before. Something was wrong. He'd go along with them but be sure not to go fishing! The last time he'd almost been killed by a shark, that was for sure!

As the events unfolded Boriclav was more and more dumbfounded. The same truck, the same procedure to dump the cargo into the lake. The women mentioned the mission he already knew about to find the tablet. They commended he go fishing for some dinner, he wouldn't, no thanks. He'd make an excuse up. This was odd, Boriclav thought. Very odd.

The women returned, he'd caught nothing, he made an excuse about the necessary parts not being available. The three returned to the base. Gergana was there with the child from Nambi-Pambi land. This is very strange, thought Boriclav. Instead of shark for dinner, something else was getting made. Boriclav chose some people he hadn't sat with before and listened to their conversation. They were talking about their work back in Moscow for psychic studies and paranormal activities on behalf of the NKVD. One of them mentioned a case where a woman had changed the eye color and facial appearance of another person just by touching them a certain way. Boriclav was fascinated. Another mentioned a case where she herself was affected by a condition where 50% of what she saw was literally blacked out. The conversation went along these strange lines. Boriclav listened intently. His presence at the table was virtually unnoticed by the animated speakers. He stayed to listen to one more story, a shimmering ethereal thread-like thing that seemed like a whisp of smoke and couldn't be touched but responded to attempts to touch it, that materialized into a strand of hair.

Then there was an announcement over what seemed a number of loudspeakers posted around and about the place that Boriclav really hadn't noticed prior to. The urgent sounding announcement, preceded by a loud distortion and general rustling from the PA system, basically warned everyone to arm themselves immediately as best they can: with firearms if possible or even more powerful weapons if possible, as there could be a manifestation of any number of wild animals appearing from thin air, as it were, at any moment.

Already people started to move, the announcement went on to repeat itself with admonitions to stay calm but immediately arm oneself and be prepared to help any comrades and stay together in sight of eachother and expect any number of wild and dangerous animals to appear, out of thin air, in their midst, as it were.

Boriclav heard some of his comrades mention a munition storage room which they would head for and following them, he heard them mention that this had something to do with some precious and ancient tablet which had been searched for with great intensity. Boriclav recalled the journey out on the boat, actually there were two journeys, one with a shark and another, without. Boriclav knew not to fish on the second journey. And the tablet, well he was never clued in on what that was about: until now. Everyone in the camp was really, noticeably nervous. Everyone had seen, heard of, studied or witnessed enough crazy, occult phenomenon to realize that this announcement was not a joke. Even if they had not heard of the notion of animals appearing out of thin air, fully formed and ready to attack, they didn't question it, but merely became very nervous and sought to stay together and arm themselves as best as possible. Groups were approaching other munition dumps. People picked up rocks from the ground. One guy had a powerful sling shot. Others pulled guns from shoulder harnesses or knives from within the soles of their shoes or garters on their thighs or from little backpacks. Torches were lit. People rapidly fashioned bo sticks from branches nearby. Anything that could be used as a defense was quickly taken up.

As the people were mustering themselves and beginning to organize themselves, approaching the locations of various weapons caches and dumps around the place. That was about when the loud sound of rampaging dinosaurs filled the place. Soldiers and agents were overcome by flying tyrannosaurus rex, that swooped on one agent per tyrannosaurus. Various dinosaurs, surprisingly short, in Boriclav's estimation: only about ten to fifteen yards high, began rampaging around. Boriclav could also see lions, some kind of mastodons and some kind of rhinoceros. Everything happened real quick. Boriclav saw Gergana was taken up by a large yellow looking dinosaur about fifteen yards high, along with his son. He ran over to the dinosaur and Gergana dropped his son from about fifteen meters up and Boriclav was lucky to catch him. He could hear her screams and the rendering of the dinosaurs massive jaws on her frame. Maybe this dinosaur wasn't a herbivore. Gergana screamed piercingly and Boriclav clearly heard her last words:

"Pop goes the weasel! Pop goes the weasel!"

It was unmistakable. A moment later her severed head fell onto the ground by Boriclav along with her left arm. The dinosaur took off, crushing a lion underfoot and roaring and masticating most of Gergana. Boriclav had space in a backpack he was wearing to insert Gergana's head and arm there and he closed his pack, slung his boy on his arm and saw the two Anastasias about a hundred yards off beginning to mow down any animals in their vicinity with their machine guns. He crawled towards them, like a snake, keeping as low to the ground as possible, his kid was crying. The tablet the Anastasias had found under the sea had set off some magical reaction causing the spontaneous appearance of all these wild animals, many extinct. Who knew how exactly? Everyone at the camp had undergone basic military training, so they would make short work of the animals anyway. Boriclav would give Gergana's remains a funeral or else if some technology allowed it, he would use them to revive her entirely.

Boriclav made his way with his kid, away from the disaster zone, away from the shoulder launched rockets and machine guns.... slivering until he could stand, whereupon he picked up his kid and ran for the beach..... finally, finding a seemingly safe place, fairly sheltered by trees and low mounds and what not, he sat down and cleaned his kid's face a little and got some food out..... he was about to get on with dinner when he heard Gergana's voice:

"Boriclav, take me out of this bag, do you have any cigarrettes?"

Well if that wasn't shocking enough, upon checking the bag for Gergana's head, it turned out that it seemed animated and full of life. "Put me down here on that big stone, and put my arm next to me, I want to smoke a cigarrette."

Boriclav did just as she asked and lit a cigarette and put it in her left hand which he'd placed near enough her body-less head for her to draw on.

"Oh man, Boriclav, I don't feel like half the person I usually am, today," she sighed.

"Have you seen your body?" He asked her.

"Yes, I know, i lost it to the dinosaur, a real pain." She paused a moment and blew some smoke rings.

"Boriclav," she continued, "the reason that doesn't bother me is that I'd just learnt that the Party is preparing a new Purge. The old NKVD chief will be purged and the highest levels of the NKVD will be purged and they will be replaced with a whole different cadre of Intelligence agents. I'm afraid we here on this project are all doomed to the same fate. I just found this out a moment before the announcement about the savage animals. It's too late for me, but you should try to save yourself."

"But this project, and the Archangel Death squad, we were told this agency is outside of the law." Boriclav offered.

"What Archangel Death Squad, Boriclav?" Gergana asked.

"Don't you remember, we were killing zombies for days, in Archangel, near Murmansk, only a year or so ago, in the middle of the Great Patriotic War," Boriclav said with conviction.

"No, I don't remember that Boriclav, it never happened. What Great Patriotic War? It's 1936, there hasn't been any Great Patriotic War, only infighting and purges since the Bolsheviks won the revolutionary war during and after the Great War of 1917."

"Really?" Boriclav asked, genuinely flummoxed. Maybe he was a gullible fool, nothing made sense anyway, so easy to believe anything at this point, "1936?"

But before she could reply, there was an almighty rumbling just on the other side of the little gnoll they were on. "Keep an eye on my kid, I need to see what that is," and so saying, Boriclav grabbed a gun from his bag and scampered over the gnoll. He saw a flash and then the flash was gone and there were two young men, a dark-haired kid and a blonde looking kid with curly hair.

"Dude, have you seen Socrates or Napoleon around here?" asked the dark-haired kid, whose name, it later turned out to be, was Ted. The other fellow, the blonde with curly hair, whose name was Bill said:

"Yeah, we totally lost Socrates and Napoleon dude, we need to find them ASAP."

Both of them spoke English which Boriclav could just understand but they often said 'dude' instead of 'comrade'.

"You seem like harmless guys, I have a gun, here look, if you make any trouble for me, I will shoot you both dead. Are you armed? Turn out your pockets, lift up your shirts, let me see." Boriclav said, pointing his gun at them. When he was satisfied that they weren't armed, he told them to follow him over yonder gnoll a quick moment to the other side. Bill and Ted complied.


**

At the camp, Bill and Ted warmed to the sight of Boriclav's kid, but when they saw Gergana they were visibly shocked. Ted wanted to know if she got hungry and how she went to the bathroom. Boriclav had to translate everything as Gergana didn't speak any English. In any case, everything looked so surreal to him that it was easier just to go along with the flow of the strange new reality, of which, there had been quite a lot to assimilate lately. Suddenly, despite their shock, Bill and Ted's faces lit up.

"There's Socrates! Hey! Socrates! Come here man, we've been looking for you everywhere, come and meet our new friends!"

Well those were some friends Bill and Ted had: a guy waving a gun at them threatening to shoot them; some kind of freak apparition, a talking, disembodied head with a disconnected left arm and a little toddler kid. Furthermore, Socrates only spoke Greek and none of the others knew any Greek. Gergana could speak French, she also had a degree in psychology from a university in Moscow; Boriclav spoke English reasonably well, although haltingly; and Bill and Ted were just a couple of airheaded kids from sunny California in the 1980s.

It was fortunate, then, that Napoleon showed up a moment later too, for it turned out that he was able to recall quite a bit of ancient Greek from his schoolboy years. Now Napoleon was about thirty-four years old when Bill and Ted happened upon him, in their excellent time machine (insert air guitar sound). Napoleon had just finished dictating a letter to his secretary for communications regarding the sale of Louisiana to the United States, which in those days, 1804, were just a few kind of mangy french territories, far away. Napoleon could not compete with the dratted English on the high seas so it would be better just to sell Louisiana and get some money for it. Besides, the Americans would turn it into something great once they grew stronger and steadier. Now in Napoleon's mind, it seemed to him that once the intervention from Bill and Ted occurred, that he must have died in battle. He knew, of course, that he had just been dictating a letter one moment and then all of a sudden France and Europe and northern Africa and even Syria had disappeared, no more horseback riding and cannons and armies to command and intriguers to have assassinated and what not. Instead he had Bill and Ted. Surely he must have been poisoned then, by some Jacobins or royalists, afraid of his mighty might. It couldn't have been a wound in battle because he clearly remembered dictating his letter about the Louisiana purchase, then it must have been poison. Anyway, Bill and Ted must have been some kind of phantoms from Purgatory. He never had much time to consider such matters, but sometimes, on horseback or while even firing a musket himself, or however, he wondered about such things as what would happen when he died, where would he go. It looked like now he would find out. He couldn't get anywhere with Bill and Ted as they seemed to speak only English, which he didn't know. Perhaps they were from America, from Virginia or the Dutch city, New York. Certainly their apparel was strange. He had a million things to worry about, the war in Spain. How he would attack Russia. How many Frenchmen he could raise up from the streets and villages of France and would they be in prime fighting age? So many royal families in Europe to bitch-slap. But now he was dead. Then he happened upon Socrates. How strange, and yet, somehow fitting, in the afterlife, that he should consort with Socrates. Well, there it is, he thought to himself, my mission has ended, my part has been played, someone else will guide the ship of State of France; somebody else will take care of Europe's destiny. I've done what I could.

"Hello old man," said Napoleon to Socrates in his flawed recollection of ancient greek, "are you Socrates?" Napoleon figured the man was Socrates intuitively and also his appearance and dress gave lie to it. Napoleon had studied Socrates and seen images of him. Furthermore, in Napoleon's time, Socrates was reckoned as a giant in psychological/intellectual spheres.

Socrates face registered comprehension. It was the first time he'd been spoken to in a comprehensible manner since Bill and Ted had arrived and whisked him away from Athens in the pre-christian era. "You look alive son, don't you breath?"

Socrates was old, Napoleon reckoned that he must have been nearing the end of his life. Maybe he'd already drunk his famous hemlock brew that ended his life and that's why he was in Purgatory with Napoleon. It had to be Purgatory because Bill and Ted were there, they seemed somehow demonic in a relatively harmless way. Still Socrates was right, Napoleon could breath. He beat his brow with his fist. He definitely felt pain: he was alive! He pulled his own hair, it hurt! How could he be dead, then?

"Where are we Socrates?" Napoleon asked.

The two conversed for a while and Gergana's head seemed to groan so Bill and Ted ministered to her. Boriclav joined them.

"Are you sore?" Bill asked. Gergana tried to nod her head after getting a translation but she had no neck. "Where is it sore?" Ted asked.

As Boriclav watched the perplexing scene, his mind started to zone out and he considered the time he first became a flying banshee and how he would soar. And how Gergana too became infected and how she too would soar. But she said that never happened. Still they were on the mission in Indonesia.... he recalled how he was flapping his wings while he did soar, then all of a sudden his body had become a spaceship, which also did soar, but without flapping wings.

"Everywhere," Boriclav heard Gergana respond through the clouds of his thought. She must be sore everywhere Boriclav surmised. Bill procured some smelling salts,

"Smell that decapitated lady dude," said Bill, proffering his smelling salts to Gergana's nostrils.

Boriclav noticed at this point that Napoleon and Socrates had now focused their attention on Gergana. Napoleon grabbed at a pouch he had hanging inside his outfit, around his neck and pulled it out very ceremoniously. He stepped forward.

"Inside my pouch here, i have a magic die, from Egypt," Napoleon said in French, which she then could translate to Russian and then Boriclav could explain in English what Napoleon had said. Bill, Ted and Socrates were interested. Now it turned out one of the figures on Napoleon's six-faced die was a feather, in the ancient Egyptian style.... it turned out, through all the translating, that Gergana knew that represented the Truth. However the other five characters shown on the die, each different, required an explanation from Socrates, who was an expert on the matter. Napoleon also seemed to understand something about it.

While the translating went back and forth, Napoleon and Gergana conversed a little in French. It turned out Gergana was actually a trained doctor and that she had completed a degree in medicine, apart from psychology, and had worked in that area for some time before becoming a high level autocrat in the ministry for Culture in the soviet government. This had sparked conversation amongst those that could understand each other and it came out that Boriclav was in fact a lawyer, by training, specializing in civil law. Napoleon, forgetting his idea that he had died, had declared that by the time he was through with Europe, everyone on the continent would be riding their horse and carriages on the right hand side of the road and there would be public schools for the masses and a more or less unified code of laws, regardless of what his enemies would throw at him. Finally, Socrates proceeded to explain the five faces of the magic Egyptian die. If there were any comments to make about it, only Napoleon knew enough to interject as no-one else present knew anything about it.

Boriclav surmised that after this stunt with Napoleon, the party would have to do their utmost to survive and move on, individually or grouping off. He also realized that Napoleon would be a pushy customer to deal with. Boriclav had his own six-faced die: his six cylinder revolver.

"Gergana, tell Napoleon i'll shoot him in the head if he doesn't obey my orders; tell him. There can only be one chef in the kitchen."

"Je suis pas d'accord," Napoleon immediately announced once he understood Boriclav's communique. "I have to go back to Europe and kick the arses of the Hapsburg dynasty..... These young men, I understand, have a time machine, so I intend they return me from where they took me," he said, referring to Bill and Ted. "Socrates, do the honors..." Napoleon ceremoniously passed his magic Egyptian die to Socrates who rolled it, showing an owl.

The assembled party stared at the owl on the six-faced die showing and then looked at each other expectantly. Nothing seemed to happen and Gergana was about to pipe up and say something when her eyes lit on a purple mist descending on her, the others followed her line of sight and saw it too. Within a moment, a minute or so, it had completely ensconced her so that she was no longer visible to them, that is, all that was left of her, her left arm and her head, had disappeared into a purple, impenetrable mist.

At this point Boriclav noticed something odd about one of the young kids, Bill and Ted, Bill, specifically. It was the same guy, the spy, from the Archangel death squad. The American spy. Boriclav would nickname him 'Hollywood' since he didn't know his name was Tiler. Boriclav started moving his feet on slow, shuffling, deliberate steps away from the group and reached for his Токарева  33 gun. He didn't know what the hell the year it was or what the hell was going on, but he was sure he could count on his Токарева doing its job ok.

"Hollywood Bill, put your hands up in the air, walk over there, disarm yourself and strip your clothes off. If i see you pointing a weapon at me, i'll shoot you dead," Boriclav told Tiler and pointed his loaded gun at him while keeping an eye on the rest of the freaks.

Tiler did as he was told and ended up standing in his birthday suit after coughing up a knife by his calf on a strap, and his revolver. He still had a switchblade in his shoes which now lay at Boriclav's side with the rest of his clothes that he didn't bother to mention, along with his suicide/general murder pills hidden in his belt.

"What's the game Hollywood? What are we gonna do with this circus?" Boriclav asked Tiler in heavily accented English.

Tiler nodded assent. He understood. It was pretty crazy. "Look, I think the best thing we can do is go in this kid's time machine and bring Napoleon back to exactly when he left France, around 1803, and set up Socrates as Pope, instead of Pius VII."

"Tell Napoleon that, see what he says," Boriclav replied and wondered about Ted. He did look like a young kid with absurdly different clothing that could perhaps verify his story that he was just some high school student from 1980s California who happened stupidly on a time machine. After visiting nambi-pambi land, Boriclav couldn't deny it as a possibility. But Hollywood Bill wasn't the Bill that showed up in the first place, somehow the American spy must have removed him and replaced him, Boriclav was sure of that.

Boriclav couldn't understand much French but he could hear Napoleon talking about President Jefferson to Hollywood (Tiler). He'd just finished selling a big portion of America to President Jefferson after winning it from Spain after invading Spain.

"The advantage of setting up Socrates in Pope Pius VII's place should be obvious to you Napoleon, if you can get him to agree to co-operate with you. Complete complicity from the Catholic Church, headed by Socrates, could relieve your forces in Spain tremendously and free them up for other battles," Tiler explained.

Boriclav noticed Napoleon looked crazy interested. Where the hell was his son? He looked around and then noticed him playing around under a palm. "You carrying a weapon?" Boriclav shot at Ted, noncommittally, almost disinterestedly. Ted's nervous shake of his head, obviously distressed at the thought of stripping down and being searched, indicated to Boriclav he was unarmed. Where the hell had Gergana gone to Boriclav wondered. Who would take care of his boy? There were no women in the party, just Hollywood, Ted the kid, the boy and Socrates and Napoleon of course. Where had the original Bill kid gone, Boriclav wondered. Could Napoleon be carrying a musket. He would have to make him disarm too, once Hollywood was finished talking to him.

"My name's Tiler, not Hollywood, and he says he's not carrying any muskets or even a knife."

"He'll have to strip down to his onesies too, just in case," Boriclav said, "And God knows why I want to help this guy free up troops from Spain to attack Russia with," he added.


The party entered Ted's time machine, without the original Bill, Tiler in his place. Boriclav had his son with him and Napoleon and Socrates too. Above the doorway to the impossibly small box they were to enter, which seemed would only fit one person, was the name 'Orca'.

"What is 'Orca'?" Boriclav asked.

"Kit," Tiler responded to him in Russian and the party entered with Boriclav and his son bringing up the rear. Boriclav pointed his gun at the others.

"Set it for 1803, France, Ted, where you got Napoleon from," Tiler asked the futuristic Ted, inside the time machine, who was from decades ahead of his own time.

"Set it for the Vatican," Napoleon said, "not France."

A moment later, Boriclav walked out of the telephone looking Orca device and saw the party was walking inside the main atrium of St Peter's under Michelangelo's famous ceiling painting. The sun was setting and the light was fading, the atrium was empty. Immediately Boriclav noticed something vibrating on his chest pocket. He checked it, it was a small device he'd never seen before, a mobile phone... it had a picture of an apple on it. In russian it said: "slide to answer".... Boriclav slid the device across, Gergana was talking to him on the other end of the phone.

"Boriclav, you should be standing under Michelangelo's Adam. Look up." Boriclav did so and Adam was directly above him getting a prod from God.

"Yep," responded Boriclav into the phone. Clearly it was a phone from the future, so very mobile. Not like a phone booth.

"Right, next look to your left, there's a small wooden cupboard on the floor, open it you'll find a beaker inside. Put the beaker aside for tomorrow. Goodbye."

"What? Why?" Asked Boriclav.

"Comrade, i'm tired, i've just been dreaming I was a duck and I had no bill. Did you know your daughter went out partying with Keanu Reeves? Say hello to my uncle when you see him, I need to get back to sleep, I only woke up to call you, as per your request, you know? I need to get back to sleep, i'm half asleep now as it is."

"Well obviously!" Boriclav shot back but the phone line went dead. Who was Keanu Reeves? And what kind of phone was this he was using and how did it get into his pocket? Were they really in the Vatican of the early 19th century. Tiler had scars where Boriclav had pecked all over him before he killed the Slovakian guy he ate for dinner when he was a raven, that was real; he'd just seen them a moment ago before they entered the phone booth time travelling machine thing. Napoleon was still there and so was his boy, and the American kid Ted and the other American, Bill. All standing there in St Peter's. And there was only primitive, early 19th century looking electrical lighting. Why did Gergana think he was under a picture of Michelangelo's Adam? And how did she know about the cupboard? Who was her uncle? What was in the beaker, he uncorked it and sniffed. How could his daughter be old enough to party? When he'd left her she was only a little girl less than three years old. Uffff, he knew that smell. He corked up the beaker again and put it away and walked over to the party nearby.

In Gergana's mind, Boriclav was in his uncle's apartment (who was a big Michelangelo fan), near Afghanistan, in Tajikistan, and she was merely asking him to grab some bleach from his cupboard to set aside for some laundry. Obviously, we've seen in Boriclav's mind, things were considerably different.

"Put these magic towels on your persons, they will render you invisible," Napoleon said to the motley crew as he distributed towels amongst them.

"Towels with owls?" Tiler said to Boriclav.

"Noted," Boriclav responded in English, observing the emblematic owls on the invisibility towels.

"Where is Ted?" Tiler shot back.

Boriclav had a beaker full of bleach in one hand and a twenty-first century i-phone in his other hand so he merely shrugged his shoulders. Ted, in fact, was defacing some of the wall art as Napoleon threw an invisibility cloak on him and noted, "the college of Cardinals approaches for prayers, walk along this wall here, follow me."

Boriclav busied himself reading up on Russia's history in the fifty years or so since he'd left Vladivostok shortly after the second world war, as he walked along with his beaker full of bleach and his i-phone, seemingly invisible to the College of Cardinals and other regular comers and goers within the Vatican who noticed not his party, he noticed on a painting near where Ted was defacing Michelangelo's artwork an inscription:  Matthew 10:28, "And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear Him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell." 

As they walked, invisibly, clearly oblivious to the cardinals and sundry Vatican inhabitants, Boriclav took advantage to survey the amazing telephone from the computer. It wasn't just a telephone, but a walking encyclopedia, Boriclav soon realized. Somehow some music slowly played which was not noticed by the regular, visible, Vatican inhabitants.... baby, you're a firework..... boom boom boom even brighter than the moon moon moon...... Boriclav found the volume button and turned it down until it was barely perceptible.... Boriclav found cached files from the internet. There were no wireless vibrations amplified and beamed out by cell phone towers as it was the early 19th century. However Gergana's phone was a wealth of information. While Napoleon lead the way to the Pope's lodgings: he seemed to know the place intimately; Boriclav proceeded to catch up on Russia's history from the second half of the 20th Century.... the truth about Stalin's era, the show trials, the forced deportations and re-settlements of over twenty million persons of various ethnicities and tribes to disparate and alien parts of the superstate (the Soviet Union) that Boriclav was a citizen of. The ten year picnics in the labor camp gulags. The growth of freedom after the death of Stalin. Sergei Eisenstein, the famous filmmaker from Boriclav's time (he had seen him once in person!) was a fag?And married? Yeltsin.... wow, the guy was awesome, always drunk in public. Boriclav wanted to live in Russia under Yeltsin, what fascinating times they would be, if one could only be well-connected enough to form part of the elite, or at least have access somehow to capital in order to grow a business. The current leader Medvyedev. Somehow, there was nothing about Putin on Gergana's phone, but Boriclav had no knowledge of it or no mind to notice the absence. He called out to the American spy,

"Tiler, look who is your inaugurated President and first lady as of January 2009," showing Tiler a picture of Obama and his wife on inauguration day.

"Damn!" said Tiler, the look on his face unmistakably moved along with the quick intake of breath.  That was something he wouldn't have expected.

Napoleon never quit, walking, walking, walking. Waiting behind columns for doorways and arches to be vacated by clumps of bishops and cardinals. For a joke, Boriclav decided to create a news story about the first gay president of America in 2069 and then the first Asian president twenty years later. Moments later Boriclav showed Tiler some dummy story he quickly created about a celebration of Russian composer Tchaikovsky in Copenhagen featuring the first openly gay president of American Brett Suarez raising a toast and then phoney U.S. President, Asian American Madame Chin in 2090. Boriclav laughed inwardly with great glee as he saw Tiler turn white as a sheet.

"What the hell am i carrying this bleach around for goddam it?" Boriclav ruminated and threw it aside, keeping the beaker in his hand, drawing a gasp from a bishop some yards off who saw it materialize seemingly out of thin air and fall at his feet.

"A miracle, a miracle," he said, genuinely amazed.

How do you like that motherf*cker? Boriclav thought to himself after socking Tiler with a one-two punch of disinformation. Tiler was still white, his stomach felt like shit, maybe he would have to barf.

"Give him this," Boriclav said to Ted handing him a bottle of milk for him to feed the kid, Adam.

And on they went.... walking, waiting. On a mission. Tiler started telling Boriclav about how he was named after the tenth U.S. President Tyler, who was a distant relative of his and who had signed off on the Republic of Texas entering the United States.

"Texas was a Republic?" Boriclav asked, although he wasn't listening well and was just noting changes in tones of voice in case he needed to answer something to stay in the conversation. Maybe he could learn something. His i-phone started vibrating again, it said 'slide to answer' same as last time, it was the exact same conversation as the last time with Gergana. It didn't matter what Boriclav said, the dialog was exactly the same as the last time. Clearly it wasn't a conversation but some kind of bug on his phone, not that Boriclav, being a creature of the first half of the 20th century would know what a bug or computer error was as only vacuum bulbs could be used to transfer electronic signals before the advent of the transistor and later the silicon chip. So Boriclav just went through the phone, reading articles including one about the movie star Gergana mentioned. It turned out it couldn't be Boriclav's future daughter he was dating in Russia as the Russian girl he was dating looked Mongolian. Boriclav forgot his wife and daughter's names. His wife's name was Svetlana maybe. He vaguely remembered Gergana. The alien lady on the side of the Universe that didn't exist yet or had already existed and disappeared before Boriclav's usual part of the Universe was likewise a vague memory.

"Yes, the Americans that settled there before and after the Treaty of Cordoba, where Mexico succeeded from Spain...." bla, bla, bla....maurading Indians, battles with angry Mexican government authorities. On and on it went. Boriclav was thrilled to find that action toys sold all around Russia in the 21st century were called "Boriclavs" and bore (keyword: bore) an uncanny resemblance to him. There was a ji-had Boriclav that spouted arabic angrily. A karate Boriclav with a black belt. Action man Boriclav. Cowboy Boriclav. Fireman Boriclav. All of them said a few words and were dressed in character. Tiler was blabbering about the 27th amendment and how New York State would never ratify it; completely irrelevant. There was a farmer Boriclav toy, a corporate Boriclav. They were really cool. Finally it dawned on Boriclav as he tipped the last drops of bleach from his beaker: pour and poor were homophones in English, wow.


Finally Napoleon was ready to prey on the Pope, that's prey with an 'e', not an 'a', mind you. There he sat in his ivory tower in a world that wasn't any less make believe than any other reality humans created for themselves amongst the numerous folds and layers of cultures around the globe. Napoleon was a very hands on guy, and not at all afraid to get a little blood on his hands. He already had one of his owl rags doused with chloroform, maybe he'd gotten it from Tiler on the walk at some point. In a moment the Pope was out cold and Napoleon was schooling Socrates on basic Latin, ending up the crash course that had begun during the long trek through the Vatican. Napoleon gave Socrates a few homely catch phrases to say in Latin to his peers, all of whom were beneath him, in the Catholic Hierarchy: "don't hurta the Napoleon"; "don't senda the more soldiers to marcha againsta the Napoleon"; "let's a make-a the peace-a with-a the Napoleon." Napoleon had managed to school Socrates rapidly on the advent of the Christian religion and its influence through the centuries as a socio-political movement. He also quickly explained Islam and the birth of the Catholic church in Alexandria in Egypt. While he was getting the Pope disrobed and Socrates dressed in his stead, Tiler had become interested in some adjacent prison cells, possibly with a view to imprisoning Pius VII there. Boriclav spotted an opportunity there and successfully entrapped Tiler there in one of the cells, slamming the door behind him with a solid clunk.

"Suck my balls Hollywood," Boriclav said to Tiler, tossing him a sack of spherical swiss chocolates wrapped in foil. Saying so, he turned his back and walked down the corridor and locked the heavy wooden door leading to the few little cells there. Tiler wasn't going anywhere.

Boriclav pulled his Токарева  33 out, pointing the deadly end at Napoleon and bid him bon voyage, a bientut and bon chance invading Russia too when the time came and just grab a horse and meet up with an army somewhere and don't forget to say 'ça va' to Marshal Ney from Boriclav. Socrates was busy putting his Papal vestitures on so no point giving him a wink.

"Let's go Ted, grab the kid, we're going back to your time machine, just the three of us, let's walk."



Direct out the time warp, it was time for Thomas Jefferson, Mao Zedong and Genghis Khan to enter our tale. It was 1950s small town white America. There was a hardware store, two stories. A sign on the top tier proclaimed Genghis and sons, Hardware, since 1911. The town itself was unusual in that everyone bore an insignia on their apparel of some famous historical personage. Tyrone dressed as a mailman with an embroidered Mohammed PBUH above his shirt pocket, opened the street front door. A little bell rang. Thomas Jefferson attended behind the counter,
'Can I help you partner?'
'I need sandpaper.'
'Well you're the mailman, sending paper is what you do.'
Mohammed touched his right earlobe with his right thumb and rubbed a finger under his nostrils. The proprietor, Mr Khan, stepped onto the scene tossing a deck of playing cards in front of Jefferson,
'there's fifty in there,' and without breaking his stride marched off around a corner making a racket.
'What a din,' Tyrone remarked.
'Have dinner,' Jefferson retorted.

Napoleon bid adieu to Socrates and rubbed his thumb on the cell-phone he had seen the Russian playing with. He adeptly stole it from his pocket before he left, feigning surprise when Boriclav bid his inevitable adieu. The Russian seemed like he just wanted to get the time machine and get out and Napoleon only wanted to stay in his own time. He knew people in the area and would make his way back to where he needed to be. But the cell-phone excited him now. There was some cached information that he was able to translate to French. Thus he learnt about the advent of the machine gun. World war 1, the necessity of tanks to overcome machine guns and trenches. Keeping in mind in Napoleon's time, warfare consisted of muskets and cannons and cavalries on horseback. A key element of the warring Napoleon knew, consisted of driving a spike into the enemy's cannon shaft, disabling it. This required penetrating the strong infantry and cavalry defences inevitably surrounding a given battlefield's cannons.


"Torch 'er," said Napoleon dramatically to Marshall Ney, one of his 18 Marshalls of his blessed Empire, passing him a burning faggot. On a hill, beneath them expanded the evil zombie filled forest full of dry leaves and pines. It hadn't rained in a long time and a forest fire would easily catch. Marshall Ney in turn had a platoon at hand ready to burn the forest. Napoleon eyed the Russian Boriclav through his extendible monocular, and his petite amie, Gergana, below yonder in the forest, driving out with a team of twenty Mongolian looking characters. Through a strange twist in the space time fabric, Napoleon had tracked Boriclav down to the mid 20th century and his crazy forest and had decided the best military tactic would be to burn it all, hence he ordered it be torched.



***





"Aces high, coin suits lead," piped the jolly Irish priest that Ted and Boriclav had brought with them to the time machine. They needed him to translate from English to old Italian, a pseudo Latin, used in the time of the Italian renaissance. Ted had managed to convince Boriclav to visit Raphael, three hundred years earlier, after passing through one of the famous atriums in the Vatican where some of Raphael's most famous paintings hung. Ted was interested in procuring Raphael for his high school history assignment.

So it was that Boriclav, Ted, Raphael and the Irish priest found themselves seated around a table playing an old Italian version of gin-rummy. The baby was procured by some of the fifty or so artisans in Raphael's studio in Florence who seemed to have a great need to paint babies. Most of the artistry seemed involved around a narrow schematic of bible stories, Boriclav noted. Often babies were needed to represent Jesus or some other character from the bible.

Raphael's  Saint Catherine of Alexandria

As the cards Raphael dealt lofted through the air, Boriclav darted  his eyes to look at a nearby painting which was clearly finished and possibly being prepped for varnishing, a process Boriclav could see involved separating egg yolks from the whites and beating the whites in a formula, some nearby artisans were at it at the moment. It was Raphael's famous Saint Catherine of Alexandria. Boriclav was impressed.Catherine looked great, her colors were vivacious, she existed in a world of depth and three dimensionality. The expression on her face was voluptuous and sensuous - beautiful. Boriclav would like to know a woman like that.

Raphael was interested in the strangers. They'd caught him in a transitional phase of his life, the year was 1508 and he'd be moving from Florence soon to Rome, to work at the Vatican.

Some rounds were played and Boriclav was winning coins of various descriptions, some from around 1805 century from the Irish priest translator, three hundred years in the future, others from America from Ted from the 1980s and before that and Raphael's coins were from the present time, around early 1500s. Therefore Boriclav could keep his own coins, as he was winning. He gestured for another refill of wine for his beaker. The others had their own vessels to drink from. Some of the assistants in the studio began applying the first layers of varnish  to the painting of Saint Catherine right under Raphael's eyes, even with the formula of egg whites that Boriclav had been watching them separate from yolks while he was winning at cards. The game progressed. At a still later point, a woman approached Raphael to talk to him, she seemed annoyed. It turned out it was the model who had done most of the sitting for the painting of Saint Catherine. Her hair was pinned up so it wasn't until later on that evening, when she let her hair down in a park that Boriclav realized she looked the same as the woman from the space-craft, who said she was the mother of the kid, Adam.

Although a chasm of approximately three hundred years separated Boriclav and Tiler in that precise moment, being that time didn't actually exist and everything was a compendium of states of consciousness, they were both, in fact, in the same moment, some three hundred years apart. Boriclav was on a date with the model who sat for Raphael, Isabella, and the Irish priest came along as a translator. Tiler was lying on his cot in his jail cell in the Vatican dreaming. In his dream he saw a magic lamp, and rubbed it, from it his jailer, Boriclav, appeared. Just like in an Arabian tale, he proceeded forth like a mist and a djinn from the lamp and asked him, "why aren't you free? why haven't you taken my advice?"

The dream was so strong, when Tiler woke up he felt compelled to take the djinn's advice. He unwrapped one of the chocolate balls Boriclav left him and began sucking on it. It was rich Swiss chocolate. Meantime he examined the chocolate wrapper. He rubbed it on the stone floor of the cell, it burst into flames! It was covered in phosphorous, like a match, with barely a coat of something separating the phosphorous from the air which would ignite it. Tiler sucked and sucked, the chocolate was delicious, but still he hoped to find something more powerful at its core. He remembered Boriclav said 'suck', not 'bite'..... a moment later he was glad he didn't bite at the chocolate as it would have killed him, he tasted nitro-glycerine. He excitedly estimated the size of the nitro-glycerine core and counted on his remaining balls. He estimated two more balls would take care of his cell door, after that there'd be another door. He could manage. Moments later, boom! a puff of smoke, Tiler's cell door blew open. He followed up with the second door and draped his towel owl over his head like a towel head. He barely took a few steps with his new-found liberty when he found Bill, the Californian kid from the future that he'd knocked out back in Indonesia with some phenol and set to sleep under a palm.

"There you are Mr. Tiler dude!" Bill said to him, spotting him at the same time Tiler saw him. "Come with me, let's go! We have to find Genghis Khan!"

Boriclav stepped into the Florentian dusk with Isabella, the woman that modelled for Raphael's famous St. Catherine painting. A Da Vinci like sweep of trees scaped a forest that was perhaps only a thicket of woods by the side of the town. Under the eaves stepped the Irish priest who was acting as their translator.

"Do I like fun?" Boriclav asked the priest after hearing a question translated by the priest.

"No, no, do you like fungi?" Reiterated the priest.

"Am I a guy that likes fun?" Asked Boriclav again helpfully.

"Mushrooms," offered the priest helpfully back.

"What?" Asked Boriclav confusedly whilst looking back and forth between Isabella and the priest. "Oh you want to go picking mushrooms? Absolutely, I'm Russian! That's a national past-time."

Boriclav spent the next hour or so pruning the mushrooms and shaking the dirt off them and throwing them into a box marked: "Cordova, Espagnia" while the Irish priest and Isabella busied themselves searching out more and picking them and delivering them to Boriclav.

Some time later, after musing on writing a letter to his wife and child or children, Boriclav missed the Irish priest the renaissance era model. He went looking for them and found them not far away standing by some rye arguing.

"It is absolutely not okay!" The Irish priest was yelling, in quite a flustered manner.

"I don't know what you're talking about, get away from me and let me finish what i'm doing!" The model responded.

After inquiring the why and whereof of the situation, Boriclav surmised that the Italian model was collecting a kind of fungus commonly found on rye grains which is known as ergot, and which, apparently, in the pre-industrial era, was a common form of birth control and abortion method dating back to the times of ancient Egypt. It had other uses too, but the Irish priest had gotten it into his head that the Italian model wanted it for an abortion for herself. Boriclav proceeded to question her about it:

* * *

"Clear.... next....." Tiler said to Bill as they systemically unbraided and deloused Genghis Khan's louse-ridden hair while said Khan was knocked out cold under the influence of phenol.

"Clear Mr. Tiler," said Bill, as he too went through Khan's hair with a fine tooth comb.

"Billings, Montana, Mr Tiler," responded Bill to Mr. Tiler's question as to where he was originally from.

"I'm back," Ted said as he walked in with a little child by his side, that was not the Adam kid that was with Boriclav.

What had happened? After Boriclav went off into the woods in renaissance Italy, Ted had taken off to find his buddy Bill who was back at the early 19th century Vatican, with the time machine. From there Bill, Ted and Tiler had darted off to Genghis Khan's time to get Genghis Khan for Bill and Ted's high school assignment. At some point Ted disappeared and returned with a little kid.

"Who is that child?" Tiler asked.

"He says he's Napoleon?" Ted answered back, "he can't speak English, only French."

Tiler noticed the child had a futuristic looking cell phone or portable computer, the same as the one Boriclav was playing with in the Vatican a little earlier.

"D'où viens?" Tiler asked the boy.

"Corsica." The child responded, he couldn't be older than five years old.

"Quel est ton nom?" Tiler asked the child his name.

"Napoleon," the child responded.

"Quelle est ton date de naissance?" Tiler asked the child. August 15th, 1769. Napoleon's birthdate.

"Ton mere s'appelle comment?" Maria Letizia. No doubt. It was Napoleon.

"Ted, Bill?" Tiler asked the two lads who were busy de-lousing Genghis Khan. "This little kid is Napoleon, as a four year old, fresh from Corsica. How the hell did he end up here?"

"We totally don't know dude," Bill responded.

"Ok, look, I need to take the time machine real quick. I should be back soon. There's everything you need in that pack there. Keep Mr. Khan knocked out or else he will most likely kill you. And for God's sake, kill all those lousy lice. Burn his clothes, it's an infestation. I'll be back soon." Tiler grabbed Napoleon's hand and stepped into Orca, the time machine.

Inside Orca, for the first time, Tiler realized there was an option to 'see oneself in the distant past'. Maybe that had to do with reincarnation or something. 'What are my options for the 17th century? Tiler wondered. Orca processed his data and there was only one option: Dutch pirate of the Carribean in the 17th century Spanish main, along the north coast of south America and amongst the islands of the Caribbean. Tiler selected this 'see yourself as you were in the past' option that Orca offered and began to watch scenes based around the life of one particular Dutch pirate. Tiler realized as he saw highlights of the man's life unfold, often in mid-air and invisible, while Orca seemed to disappear completely, that he was the Dutch Pirate, that had been him.

Tiler squatted on the starboard side of a light Dutch frigate that somehow seemed familiar, the little kid Napoleon by his side. The smell of salty sea air was unmistakable. Looking up, Tiler noticed the Dutch maritime flag whipping in the wind and beneath that a Crow's Nest with a pirate with one eye covered up as from an injury and looking through a long telescope with the other eye. Somehow Tiler knew that was the Captain of the ship, Roderick the bad-arse, to loosely translate from the Dutch of those days, Tiler also realized that was his boss back in Mariland. Tiler looked ahead around at the crew as they looked up at Roderick to listen to his pronouncement:

"Take a bearing thirty degrees to the starboard side, we'll attack the galley forthwith, load up the cannons to the starboard side!"

Those were his orders. Tiler realized he would have to hide behind some nearby barrels as the crew busily would shift cannons from one side of the ship to the other and prepare a full assault on some kind of ship, as yet not invisible to the naked eye.

"Great," Tiler thought, and he saw a gleam in the child Napoleon's eyes as he looked at the cannons being rolled across the ship.


***
Back with Genghis Khan, in the same moment, Bill noticed something:

"What's that dude Ted?"

"It's the little computer thing, that Tiler dude must have left behind," Ted responded.

"Cool, let's just cut all of Genghis' hair off, this is taking too long."

"Would you like some fudge Bill?" Ted responded, producing a Circle K bag with various goodies inside.

"You went to Circle K dude?" Bill asked astoundedly.

"Totally, you wouldn't believe it, they had a video for hire there 'Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey'" Ted reported.

"No way dude!" Bill responded in a most flabbergasted manner.

"Way dude, we're famous! We're in a movie! We get killed by an evil Bill and Ted and go to Hell and play the Grim Reaper at battleships and then we go to Heaven and talk to God!" Ted assured Bill.

"No way!" Bill responded in shock.

"Way dude," Ted shot back, "here's that quarter ounce of motor oil you wanted and your 400 exposure Kodak camera film."

Ted passed Bill said items and Bill began to study them so that he never noticed two figures enter his space, it was Thomas Jefferson and Mao Zedong. Finally Bill took notice, startled, he asked Ted: "dude who are those weirdly dressed dudes, Ted?"

Bill responded: "that's Thomas Jefferson and Mao Zedong, I picked them up after going to the Circle K, and then I got baby Napoleon to distract the Tiler guy for a while, I figure we needed to rework our list of famous historical dudes because I don't really like Beethoven that much."

"Who's Mao Zedong Ted dude?" Bill asked.

"He's like a famous political leader from China, he started Communalism there," Ted replied.

"What's communalism?" Bill asked.

"Well instead of having fudge and candy for a dollar a piece, you get two sheets of toilet paper, as near as I can figure," Ted responded earnestly.

"No way dude, totally bogus," Bill mal-enthused.

Meanwhile Genghis Khan began to wake.

"Genghis stirs bro," Thomas Jefferson said to Mao, who was at his side.

"Yep, wake up tiger," said Mao, slapping the Khan's face.

"What's going on?" said Genghis, somehow everyone spoke the same language. "Who cut my hair?"

"Бинго!" Enthused mildly Boriclav's KGB handler. At last the ancient Sri Lankan mystery tablet had been decoded. "Send for Boriclav and Jerome immediately," the Colonel ordered a subordinate; "effect protocol back to front R", the Colonel ordered another subordinate.

In the ensuing days and weeks, the ancient Sri Lankan mystery tablet revealed, amongst other things, the whereabouts of DNA remains of Jesus Christ, just a centuries old dry speck of blood, no bigger than a flea was all that was needed to procure his DNA code. Furthermore the tablet helped the Russians, along with Boriclav's intrepid work, to recover the time travelling machine Orca from Napoleon. In time the Colonel's team from the 1940s was able to build a difficult and complicated relationship with the KGB's successor from the 2020s. Technology of that time allowed them to light on various plans, although everything was extremely limited by various issues related to the physics of time travel.

The plan that interested the Colonel and Boriclav and Jerome was entitled: The valley of the Jesuses. Basically, the Colonel was in charge of the project and it involved producing around one hundred perfect reproductions of Jesus Christ, biologically speaking, around fifty males and fifty females. Following research begun by Russian scientists in the 2000s based on reproducing ancient flower specimens from millions of years ago, found fossilized in the frozen tundra of Siberia, the team the Colonel assembled envisioned a magical valley in Siberia with the hundred living Jesuses as its centrepiece, complete with dinosaurs (fully reproduced in biological laboratories from ancient DNA samples sourced from ancient rocks), pterodactyls too (птеродактили), mastodons, an awesome river flowing through the middle of the valley and a veritable army of engineers, psychologists, cooks and labourers of all descriptions including an elite platoon of Russian Navy and a crack team from the KGB running it all.

As the plan unfolded and the various Jesuses reached puberty, it became clear that while they were all pretty good people, in the main, their education and behaviour was completely shaped by their Russian handlers. Therefore while they were familiar with Russian language, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky, Bolshevik philosophy, and even Hindu language, they were unable to perform miracles, as the Russian Intelligence apparatus was not a mystery school and therefore unable to teach mysteries such as healing methods and suchlike that was the original Jesus' great claim to fame. Still, on the other hand, despite not being destined for Christhood, as it were, the Jesuses and Jesalinas (as the female Jesuses were known as), had nice white skin (they were actually Aryans Gentiles from their mother's original DNA, as it turned out, not Jews), and good physiques. Constant medical tests were run on them by genetic biologists to study their genome sequence from their male side (which was from God), most of this latter work was carried out in the 2020s in highest level top secret laboratories in St Petersburg, Russia. Various aspects of physics and time travel made it impossible for the Russians to travel farther into the future thans the 2020s to access still more advanced genome technology.

Around the time of the time of the 35th anniversary of the Bolshevik Republic (January 18th), despite it still being in the 1950s in Russia at the time, the Jesuses had reached the age of around fifteen years altogether (they were all twins, all the same age), even though it should have been the 1960s already, the physics of time travel kept everything frozen in 1950s Russia, Nikita Kruschev was, in fact, the leader of Russia at this time but he was completely kept in the dark about this project as was Putin's successor in 2020s Russia too, it was such a secret, only aliens from other star systems were aware of the project, no-one else on Earth knew about it, not even the CIA.

As we have seen, all one hundred Jesuses were precise replicas of THE Jesus, but none of them had his great soul, nor access to the great mysteries he did, nor assistance from great masters or sages like Jesus did, so nothing that they did was particularly religious, it was more about genetics and Russian curiosity.

The Colonel considered them his children, and Boriclav and Jerome were like their big brothers or uncles. The Colonel opened a leather folder with a neat leather string clasp fastener on it. The folder was embossed воскрешение "The Resurrection". Unfortunately, the contents were anything but divine, Jesuses 10 through 25 had already been drunk on Vodka at least twice. One of the Jesalina's had become pregnant from one of the KGB agents who had taken a shine to her. Sigh, the Colonel sighed.

Through painstaking contacts with his futuristic colleagues from St Petersburg 2025, he came to realize he would have no greater babysitter for all one hundred of his children than 1980s black American rappers: Run DMC. Such horrible noise, but still, what a respite it bought him, anything to make the Jesuses happy. Then he had to procure tracksuits for them, just like 1980s ghetto America, running sneakers, gold chains, he began to long for his old life, before the valley days....