|Yet another jim jam of illuminating missives, recently dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our man in the fez.
We're staying for the duration: I can't get enough of the sigils and soundscapes in this ancient dynamo of a techno-paradise, Mister Dark likes the fact the Potrzebians have no word for "extradition," the monkey has a girlfriend, and Mister Malice sank our tugboat with a misfired .44 slug.
I say "sank," but, really, he hit one of the oxygen tanks and "smithereened" might be more accurate. Caromed a piece of the foc'sle off a passing hierophant crab. Said white-hot piece then whanged into our caravan's gas tank, smithereening that as well. So, we lost all the stuff the we'd gathered on this trip, but had to admit it was for a good cause.
Potrzebie is packed tight with antediluvian mysteries, yet boasts modern cities with full bars. It's kind of like Seattle by way of Mu. My point is that I was able to phone Miss Yakamoto back at Wonderful Labs and drill her as to the status of BABAORILEX, the Labs computer. She told me the parts we need won't be stable in this dimension for another few weeks.
"Then you should come out here," I said. "It's fantastic. All the drinks are green and all the lizards are purple. They've got two Saturdays a week. There's a local gravity distortion, so you lose ten pounds just by showing up. Look, I think I can squeeze you in my hotel room. Come on! Shut down the particle accelerator, lock up the interns, grab a forbidden map, and jump in the invisible plane."
"Sorry boss," she said. "I can't seem to find the invisible plane."
It's always something with her.
As I jauntily strode out of the lobby towards unfathomable destiny, a Potrzebian shoeshine boy stopped me. He wanted to know if I could sponsor him for the big sesquicentennial Pyramid Raising out in the Western Sea. Apparently there are costumes and chanting involved and it's all for charity.
I explained that I had no local currency, but wished him well. He told me that if I wanted to earn cash, the local broadsheets were always looking for newly harvested word-clusters.
Turns out we're staying right down the street from the largest print factories in all of Potrzebie. They call it Synchronous City. Stories of stories, high stacks belching word balloons at all hours. A place where a man of letters might get mugged for his L's.
I think I'm going to do all right here.
Yours without query until the sea cows take me home,
WONDERFUL LABS - Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut
The Artist having been taken in vision to the ancient republics, monarchies, and patriarchates of Asia, has seen those wonderful originals called in the Sacred Scriptures the Cherubim...
- William Blake,
from "A Descriptive Catalog" (1809)
|Mister Wonderful Recommends: Haunting children playing at pop. Have a listen, you'll never sleep again.