Litterbug

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , on June 4, 2012 by javedbabar

After work Sophie often went for a stroll in the Botanical Garden. The West Coast flora belonged there of course, but the Amazonian Rainforest, Egyptian Oasis, and Babylonian Hanging Gardens had been nurtured by the Zoological Society of Lucerne. Still, once they were established, they would develop interrelated environmental factors and form a functioning ecosystem. She loved pristine nature, even if it was in the wrong place.

Nature wasn’t always pretty, she knew, but it was perfectly self-regulating. A thin layer of gases, held in place by gravity, were the key active factor sustaining the planetary ecosystem. They allowed life on earth. The price of that life was the occasional hurricane, tornado, tsunami, and flood (in addition to geological effects like earthquakes and volcanic explosions), but beneficial atmospheric effects outweighed harmful ones. Life hung in a fine balance though; living organisms interacted with other elements in local environments, and must be careful not to overwhelm them.

Sophie noticed a man standing on the main path ahead of her. He was fumbling in all his pockets for something, which he found in his left hand trouser pocket. He withdrew a packet of cigarettes, unwrapped the cellophane, and threw it on the floor. He flipped the lid off the pack, withdrew a cigarette, flicked his lighter, lit up and began puffing.

Sophie couldn’t stop herself – she ran right towards him and said, “Excuse me; I think you’ve dropped something.”

The man had seen her running towards him, and rather than smile – either innocently or with embarrassment – he had stared at her breasts bouncing. He said, “No I haven’t.”

“Yes you have,” said Sophie insistently. “You’ve dropped something.”

“I don’t think so,” said the man and turned away, and took a long draw of his cigarette.

“I saw you unwrap your cigarettes and throw the plastic covering on the ground.”

The man turned to face her. “So what? It’s not your business. If you don’t like it, why don’t you pick it up?”

Sophie didn’t back down. He saw she was fuming and tried another tack. “It’s biodegradable. I think it says on the…”

Here was a chance to engage further; he was stepping back; they could negotiate; end things nicely together.

Sophie’s confidence was due to her being a practitioner of One-Do, a rediscovered martial art. It integrated all other styles into a higher level of performance. She was scared of no one, not even if they held a weapon. The mind of a One-Do master triumphed over physical threats every time.

However Sophie was not yet a master. Her one year of training had made her a next-level novice. There was no real hierarchy in One-Do. Just levels and next levels.

“Throwing litter is disgusting!” she shouted. “It ruins the environment. You’re disgusting! Some people improve the places they visit. You make them worse. You’re a disgusting person!” She stormed off before she’d have to hit him. The man was bemused by her ferocity but continued smoking.

The Botanical Garden’s creator, known as The Gardener, had observed these events from the far end of the main path. He called his pupil Sophie over, and said, “Watch this.” He whispered something to the small silver monkey on his left shoulder, and it jumped up into the trees.

A moment later, the disgusting man was hit by a banana, then a coconut, and then a heavy palm frond fell right on his head. His cigarette and his life were extinguished. It was a natural occurrence. It seemed inevitable. This is the way of One-Do.

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Pop Up Bar

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , on June 3, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny and Sophie enjoyed their date. He had met her at the seed fixture at the Botanical Garden last week, they’d later had lunch at the cafe there, and now dinner in Lucerne Village. They’d shared a bottle of merlot and were slightly tipsy, but not drunk enough to do anything foolish – at least not yet.

Danny walked her home; it was only ten minutes out of his way, each way, and the fresh air and exercise would do him good. “What’s that?” said Sophie, pointing to a slim building tucked between apartment blocks, with a brightly lit doorway. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Doesn’t it look odd? It’s so tall and thin, like somebody sneaked it in while no one was looking.”

“Yes it is quite funny,” said Danny. “It looks like a commercial building.” There was an OPEN sign above the doorway. “Shall we take a look?”

Beyond its heavy wooden door was a small space with velvet curtains and subtle up- and down-lighting. It was classy but unnerving. They expected a host, or security staff ,to welcome them, but no one did. Classical music played beyond the curtains. They pushed them aside and entered.

They found themselves in a small but very grand room, with sumptuous, Victorian decoration. “Oh my God!” said Sophie. “This is like Buckingham palace, or Versailles.” Marble pillars stood at the corners of gold-leafed walls filled with Old Masters paintings. There were individual and family portraits, holy icons, and rural landscapes. A vast chandelier glittered above them, almost. It hung so low that they ducked to avoid it.

An impeccably groomed man with macassared hair and pencil moustache came towards them with champagne flutes, the glasses’ bubbles catching the chandelier’s light. “Welcome, welcome!” he said with a French accent. “Thank you for visiting Number One Lucerne.”

“Number One Lucerne?” said Danny. “How’s that?”

“We have a vision for this establishment,” he said, sweeping his hand around his head. “To be the beating heart of this village.”

“But it’s just one room,” said Sophie. “Four more people in here and it’s totally full. Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude. I’m just surprised.”

“Ah! You are right. But this is just the beginning. We will be taking over the whole building soon. Who’s we? Me and Pierro! We will make this place the talk of the town. The talk of every town!”

Danny drained his glass and it was refilled immediately. Sophie’s was topped up too. The man smoothed his pencil moustache and said, “There will be many other levels. This is the main bar. It is small, of course, because it is exclusive. Downstairs there will be a nightclub, below that, a retreat, and at the bottom, a dungeon.” He touched his nose, indicating a secret. “Upstairs we will have a restaurant, above that a hotel, and at the top, a tropical garden. That will be in a hothouse of course. We can’t risk frost.”

“Wow, that sounds amazing,” said Sophie. “We can’t wait to see that. When will you open the other sections?”

“As soon as we can get good staff, we will open.”

Danny had recovered from his recent depression, and was looking for work. “I would be interested in working here,” he said. “How do I apply?”

“I like you already,” said the man, running one nail along his moustache. “Just sign this contract and you can start tomorrow.”

In his enthusiasm and light headedness, and in low light, Danny quickly scanned the contract and signed it. He didn’t realize that the small print passed ownership of this illegal, unregistered, debt-laden, failed cultural project directly to him. He now had a choice: to make it work somehow, or to pass it on to someone else, as many previous owners had done.

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Drunky Taxis

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , , on June 2, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny was drunk for the third time this week at the Lucerne Valley Hotel. The barman was considering giving him a one week ban, but then he thought, where else would he go? The guy was already lost in life; why steal away one of his few remaining anchors?

He’d had one too many though, and was annoying customers; Donna in particular. It was a wonder that she put up with his persistent propositions and bullshit without calling him out. A guy would have decked him along ago. Maybe women were just nicer.

“Time to go home, my friend,” the barman said to Danny. “Better make sure you’ve got your keys. You don’t want to be locked out do you?” When Danny drew his keys out of his pocket to check, the barman swiped them. This worked every time with drunks. The barman pulled out Danny’s car keys, put them in a tin behind the bar, and returned the rest of the bunch to its owner. “Time to go home, my friend.”

Danny didn’t protest; he knew where he stood here. He was a hopeless drunk and his opponent was the king of this joint. The barman said, “I’ve called you a taxi. It will be here in five minutes. You can wait outside.”

Danny got into the taxi and asked how much it would be to Kalash, the subdivision beyond the Golden turnoff, way up the Lucerne Valley Road. The taxi driver said, “That will be fifty bucks, pal.”

Danny laughed heartily. “That’s a good one, buddy. How much really?”

“It’s fifty bucks, my friend. I’m giving you a break already. It’s thirty kilometres at two bucks per click, that’s sixty bucks, and at this time I could charge you half-rate for the return trip. But I won’t do that.”

“Fifty bucks!” said Danny, his head in hands. “Fifty bucks!” He started sobbing, then opened the door, cursed the driver and got out. “F***ing drunky taxis! Fifty bucks! Stuff it up your ass!”

The driver radioed his base to report an abusive passenger and drove away. Danny re-entered the bar. The barman called out, “Hey there, I told you already, time to go home.”

Danny told the barman that the taxi had refused to take him as far as Kalash. The barman shook his head and called one from the other company in town.

Danny tried his negotiation skills again, but the driver stuck to the standard rate of sixty bucks, and also wanted half-rate return, so it would now cost ninety bucks. “Ninety bucks!” wailed Danny. “Ninety bucks! The other driver was charging me fifty!”

The driver said, “Well you should have gone with him then, pal.”

Danny asked the barman to order him another cab, but he refused. Danny called both companies himself, but they declined to transport him.

“How much money to stay here?” he asked the barman. “Upstairs in the rooms?”

“It’s sixty bucks a night, my friend.”

“Sixty bucks!” he cried. “Sixty bucks!” He winked at Donna along the bar, nudged up and smiled at her. “How about sharing a room here, honey? Only thirty bucks each.”

The barman was stunned when she agreed to the proposal and led him off to bed. The barman didn’t know that in the real world, Danny had been a real gentleman. Donna had been a troubled woman, who Danny had helped, expecting nothing in return. She had later almost died from a drugs overdose, and his permanent vegetative state was the result of a stroke.

They were both now living their lives via virtual retinal projections. Some people coped with this change better than others. Donna knew that Danny wasn’t doing so well, and needed a hand now.

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Health Infomatics

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , on June 1, 2012 by javedbabar

Health Infomatics had come a long way, thought Liz. Even in the time I’ve been working at Lucerne Village Medical Centre, primary patient care has transformed from purely personal to mostly technical. Sure, you get a few moments with a health care professional, but then it’s straight onto machines, and computers do the rest.

Liz was underpaid and underworked, but it was better than it used to be – underpaid and overworked. But hers was a valuable role – the observer, and when needs be, she would step up to actor; she had the skills and experience needed to handle emergency failures.

The doors slid open and a middle aged man walked in. He looked around nervously and walked up to the desk. Liz said, “Good morning, Sir. How may we help you?”

“Em, I haven’t been inside a hospital for years. They sort of scare me. I was feeling unwell and went to see my doctor. He couldn’t really say what it was, so he sent me here.” “Ok, Sir, that all sounds fine. We’ll give you a check up and take it from there.” She clicked open a new file and asked for his ID, which she scanned and returned. “What form does your unwellness take? I mean, what are you feeling?”

“It’s tightness in my throat and chest, and a puffy nose. It could be an allergy, but…”

“Follow me, sir. Let’s not try to second guess. We have the best equipment here. It will tell us everything.”

Liz asked him to remove his jacket and shoes and lie on the bed at the centre of the room. She removed the EMU (Electromagnetic Medical Unit) from its charger and keyed in the codes for White, Forties, Male. EMU units were a great advance – not so much in medical technology, as they performed the same function as flux MRI scanners; more a medical convenience. They weighed three kilos and could be passed over the patient’s body with ease. There was no need now for the whole “entering the tomb” ritual. Their sales had been boosted by a marketing campaign where an animated emu races ahead while an ostrich stays with its head buried in sand. The message was that the EMU tells you everything, even the things you’ve never thought about and don’t want to know.

“Okay, Sir, the EMU says that your sickness is psychosomatic. Do you know what that means? Yes, that’s right; it’s caused by your mind rather than by your body. There is however another indicator showing a ninety-seven percent chance of your developing brain cancer within three years.”

The man looked shocked. “Do I need to start chemotherapy?”

Liz smiled and shook her head. “Sir, when was the last time you were treated in a hospital? More than ten years ago? I thought so. Medical technology is much improved since then. You will need just twenty-four hours of treatment, and your current respiratory complaints and future ontological complaints will be gone. Please come here at ten o’clock tomorrow morning, prepared for an overnight stay.”

The man blinked rapidly and said, “That sounds amazing. How will you treat me?”

“We have several options. I suggest the HEAL machine, which stands for Holistic Emotional Astral Landscapes. The Law of Attraction motivates your healing, creating parallels between your perfect inner state and your perfect outer place. The patient chooses a desirable environment in which to spend the next twenty four hours. Popular choices are deserts, mountains, forests or oceans; you may prefer to be projected into the future, or back to Renaissance, medieval or Biblical times; you may also choose the body of a man, woman, child or foetus; some men find feminine energy more healing and prefer to take that avatar. Many people feel empowered by ancient cultures, and visualize powerful symbols such as the Ankh, Taijitu, Alpha, or OM.” The man was dazzled by all of this.

Liz continued, “You will be immersed in the world of your choice for twenty four hours, while nanobots modify and replace your defective cells. You will wake up feeling better than ever. How does that sound?”

Liz saw the thrill in the patient’s eyes. These HEAL machines almost made you want to be sick.

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Fading

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Global Travel, Lucerne Village, Unknown with tags , , , , , on May 31, 2012 by javedbabar

It was surprising how few people enjoyed the Botanical Garden. Danny was often alone there, or maybe there were other people around but in different sections – the Amazonian Rainforest or Egyptian Oasis areas, or in the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, though these were being regenerated after the recent war. Anyway it was a shame that more people didn’t make better use of Lucerne’s wonderful amenity.

Danny had first met Sophie – with her long arms and legs, black hair and big brown eyes – at the seed fixture, and their date at the garden’s cafe had gone very well; he often saw the green-suited founder of the place, known as The Gardener, strolling around. But apart from some young rascals running between bushes, that was it in terms of regular visitors.

He spotted a new guy strolling along the main path and said hello. The next day he saw him again, and said hello again. The new guy didn’t look too well. Maybe he was recovering from illness and taking a stroll daily for his health. He moved with hesitation and his responses to Danny’s greetings were slow. Danny also imagined that he could be mentally sub-normal, or maybe depressed. He couldn’t enquire about these things of course; it would be considered most rude.

One day the man really looked terrible. His skin was greenish and his greeting was more slurred than usual. Danny said, “Excuse me, are you feeling all right?”

The man stopped struggling to walk and stood beside Danny. He said, “Yes I feel okay, thanks pal.” But this was difficult to believe when he was green and trembling, with froth forming on his lips.

There was a crash in the bushes and some cries for help. It must be those boys mucking about again, thought Danny. They’ll hurt themselves.

The man said to Danny, “Listen pal, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but you don’t look so good either. Your skin seems green and you’re shaking.”

“That’s funny,” said Danny. “That’s what I noticed about you. Maybe we should leave this section of the garden; there may be allergens here. Are you allergic to pollens or spores? I suffer from severe hay fever but I’m not sneezing. It could…”

“Look at those caterpillars,” said the man, pointing to yellow and black-striped bugs the size of his thumb. “I’ll bet one touch of those would make you break into a sweat. I picked one up when I was a kid and it…”

Danny wasn’t paying attention to what the man said. His eyes opened wider as the man reduced in intensity, became transparent, and faded away. Was it a trick of the light, or of his eyes? Where had he gone? Was this a joke?

Then he noticed that his own hands had disappeared. A moment later he was no longer in the Botanical Garden.

Danny was back in a bed in Lucerne Village Medical Centre. Misalignment of satellites had caused his signal to break up, and neither his, nor other patients’, virtual retinal projections could be sustained. He was just another client of the centre’s Permanent Life Enhancement unit. He would never walk or talk again, but once the satellites were realigned, he could at least continue to enjoy the garden.

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Resume

Posted in Lucerne Village with tags , , , , , , on May 30, 2012 by javedbabar

Things were looking up for Danny. He had recovered from his depression, met a woman, had a small lottery win, and felt ready to find a new job. He didn’t want to go back to pumping gas, so asked around. He heard that Lucerne Village was looking for more staff so made an appointment with the Village Recruitment Officer (VRO). Danny tried to find out what jobs were available, but the receptionist wouldn’t say. She said discuss that with the VRO.

The VRO was a tough, red-haired man who Danny imagined had once been a police officer or soldier. “Sit down!” he said in the way he may have said in his previous jobs, “Put your hands up!” or “Put it down!”

Over a cup of coffee, he scanned Danny’s resume. “So, you’ve never really settled down, have you! What’s with all the moving around? It says here that you are an ‘enthusiastic individual’ who has a university degree and has worked in fancy companies in the City. How did you end up pumping gas here?”

Danny was a cool headed person; not easy to rile. He said, “Life doesn’t always work out the way you imagine. I’ve had some tough times.”

“You’ve had tough times?” said the VRO. “I don’t think you even know the meaning. Have you been on the battlefields of Afghanistan? Or on the mean streets of Detroit? That’s where I did my service. I’ve earned this padded chair here.”

Danny thought it best not to respond. He awaited further orders.

“Okay, the Village is a progressive employer and welcomes all kinds of people, regardless of their drawbacks.” He began with questions of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, mental illness, and physical disability. “Okay, good,” he said. “Now we have your basic details. I am required to complete this grid of personal metrics. It will reveal what jobs you are suited for. Answer all of the following questions, based on dualistic paradigms, which we will integrate holistically. They may seem strange, but answer them as best you can.”

“What is your essential nature?” Danny told him it was peaceful.

“What is your culture?” Danny said it was North American, Judeo-Christian, white Anglo-Saxon Protestant, free-market capitalist, representative democracy.

“What is your hardware?” Danny said it was a skeleton, vital organs functioning synchronously, and a central nervous system, and blood and skin.

“What is your software?” Danny said it was a sense of personal selfhood, which was part of a communal self, whose edges were permeable, and touched upon other beings.

“What are your skills?” Danny mentioned interpersonal skills, commercial skills, and common sense.

“What are your feelings?” Danny mentioned an appreciation of beauty, and compassion, and truth.

“What is the influence of your genes?” Danny said it had made him tall, white, blonde, fairly handsome, and predisposed towards diabetes and dementia.

“What is the influence of your environment?” Danny spoke of his early years in foster homes, where he had been beaten and abused. That was why he never settled. He didn’t feel safe or comfortable anywhere. He moved around.

“Ok, that’s it,” said the VRO. Please wait outside while I analyze the results. Ten minutes later he called him back in. “Welcome to Village Hall,” he said. “We have a very special job for you. Do you believe in Karma? Good. Well there are people in the Village who are not conducive to its welfare. The kind of people who beat and abused you. Wouldn’t you like to create a better environment for kids here? With the job comes an unregistered gun.”

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Excuse Me Please

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Unknown with tags , , , , , , on May 29, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny had a lunch date with Sophie at the Botanical Garden’s new cafe. Ever since he’d met her at the seed fixture, he’d been feeling crazy. Her long arms and legs, black hair and big brown eyes, were all he thought about.

He got there early and found a table for two. He put a copy of the local free rag, The Answer, on his seat and went to the counter. The raw soup looked good, so did the organic sandwiches, but he’d wait to eat till she arrived. He got a fair trade coffee and returned to his table. Where was his table? It seemed to have disappeared. Then he spotted The Answer still sitting on his seat, and on the chair opposite was a woman in a blue-flowered dress, filing her nails.

“Excuse me,” said Danny. “This table is taken. I just went to get a coffee.”

She ignored him and continued filing her nails. He repeated, “Excuse me, this table is taken. I’m sitting here.”

“Go right ahead,” she said in a voice like gargling breadcrumbs. “Sit there. I’m sitting here.”

Danny had worked as a teacher, and was not easily riled. He said, “But I’m meeting someone. They’re coming along soon. I need a table for two.”

“Well no one’s here now. This seat was free.” The woman turned away from him as if that was the end of the conversation.

Now he got angry. “Look lady, I’ve got a lunch date. This table is taken already. Can’t you sit somewhere else?” She held her nails to the light to examine them, but said nothing.

He said, “Look, you don’t even have a drink. This isn’t a street shelter.” He felt mean as he said this, but was in no mood for retraction. Besides, she wasn’t homeless; she was wearing a nice blue dress, and applying coral nail polish. She was just being difficult.

They sat in stalemate – he sipping coffee, and she continuing to redden her fingertips, which looked like little bloody skewers. Eventually she said, “So where is this lunch date of yours? I presume it’s a woman. It doesn’t look like she’s coming.” Now Danny said nothing. “Anyway, why should groups be more important than single people? We can sit where we want, you know.”

“Ahh, thought Danny, so that’s it. She saw a guy by himself and was hoping to hook up, and is now annoyed. He was sorry if she was lonely but that wasn’t his fault or business. “Look, we’re not a couple, we’re single people too, but if all goes well, we may become a couple. Why don’t you…”

Just then Sophie arrived. “So sorry I’m late,” she said, and smiled at the interloper. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”

“She’s no friend of mine,” said Danny. “She stole your seat. She won’t go.”

There was an awkward silence, and Sophie said, “Danny, why don’t you get me a coffee, and sorry, what’s your name? Alli? And get Alli one too. Well, don’t keep us ladies waiting. Off you go.”

Danny was dumbstruck. Both women stared at him. He had no choice but to go. What was this Sophie playing at? he wondered.

Sophie believed in the Law of Attraction. This woman is here for a reason, she thought. Let’s find out why.

During the course of the afternoon, Sophie and Danny discovered that Alli was never given seats as a child. Bags and coats appeared on them suddenly as she approached. Now she sought out seats and never gave them up willingly. People were like that; they were weak, distrustful characters. Her family were Luddites who had chosen not to have their children enhanced with microchips, the reason that Alli was unable to connect with anyone around her. Almost everybody was integrated by internal social media; she was always alone.

Danny and Sophie yearned to be different. This was their chance. Imagine telling their friends all about meeting Alli.

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Coco de Mer

Posted in Lucerne Village, Organic Farming with tags , , , , , , , , on May 28, 2012 by javedbabar

Danny liked wandering through the Botanical Garden. He had visited most days since it had opened, either before or after work. The Zoological Society of Lucerne had done a good job with the garden; it had become a popular landmark to the extent that you were more likely to hear local people saying “See you at the garden,” than “See you at the pub.”

The latest addition to the complex was the garden shop. Danny liked its library, which contained unusual volumes like “Arid Gardening for Apocalyptic Times,” and “Return to Iram” (by flicking through which he discovered that Iram in Arabic meant paradise; it was a book about creating classical Islamic gardens). He became fascinated by seeds, which were the source of the wonders he witnessed in the garden daily; he was pleased when the shop created a dedicated seed fixture, and browsed it on most visits.

He saw a container of orchid seeds, such tiny things that produced rare beauty. Each was a treasure, a generator of wonder and untold possibilities. His mother had loved orchids. She kept them near the kitchen window, their tall stems reaching bravely, arching for light. When he was young he’d thought their buds each contained an eye to watch over him when his mother was away. Instead they bloomed into black and purple lips.

A woman came and stood beside him. He saw her black hair, her long arms and legs, but most of all her eyes. They were the eyes he’d imagined would bloom from the orchid buds, huge and brown.

“Is that a seed?” she asked him. She said it casually, like you would to a best friend. He followed her pointing finger, indicating a huge thing like a black man’s bottom, but pointed and flattened.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I guess it must be.” He leaned towards the fixture and read, “Coco de Mer. It says it’s the world’s largest seed.” He continued reading. “Most plants generate many small seeds to disperse widely, which travel by wind, water, and via animal fur and scat. But some put all their energy into a few large seeds, which tend to stay within the local area, closer to home.”

“Which kind are you?” she said, smiled, and walked away.

Danny was taken by surprise. Was she coming on to him, he wondered? Was she asking if he was still sowing his wild oats indiscriminately, or ready to settle down? He became restless and took a turn around the garden. He hoped to glimpse her walking away, to admire her from a distance, but she had disappeared somewhere into the garden.

The Gardener was strolling along the main path. Danny asked if he’d seen the woman. He said, “Can’t say that I have. Why do you ask? Did she make you wish to pollinate?”

He saw Danny’s red face and added, “Only kidding. I remember what it was like when I first saw my wife. I knew she was the one for me. Till then I had been lying dormant, awaiting optimal conditions to synchronize germination.” He often spoke in horticultural terms, which intrigued and sometimes confused Danny. The Gardener continued, “She was probably wondering if you were an orchid seed or a Coco de Mer. Dormancy is a state of the seed, not the environment.”

Danny said, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Well, plants and animals have many similarities. The one that I find most telling is present from inception. A plant’s embryo has two points of growth – the root and the stem, and grows from the centre outwards. Similarly, humans grow in two ways also – physically and spiritually. Orchid seeds are tiny and have no nutrient supply, relying on soil fungi for growth. However the Coco de Mer has invested many resources in seed production, and provides everything needed to survive. This is what I found with my wife. She was an independent soul, and together we became interdependent souls. When she died I created this garden, to remain entwined forever.”

The next day at the seed fixture, Danny was looking at winter cherries and winter bananas, when he felt a presence at his side. It was the woman with the big brown eyes. She asked him, “Which seed do you like?”

He said, “Coco de Mer.”

She said, “It seems quite heavy. Shall I help you?”

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Fruit Trees

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , on May 27, 2012 by javedbabar

When Danny felt sad in winter he went to the Botanical Garden. It was a vibrant place with lush foliage and bright blooms in a land assaulted by winter; it seemed an oasis of infinite life; maybe even another planet.

His long walks in the forest had provided awareness of local flora, but the species here were unusual, and he barely recognized any of them. They had crazy forms and colours: eight foot tall plants with blue, hand-like flowers, and red chandeliered blossoms that twinkled in the moon and sun. His favourite was the Silva Sanguinara, with its huge pink flowers, made up of hundreds of smaller ones, like a jigsaw puzzle. He imagined the green-suited creator of the Botanical Garden, known as The Gardener, sitting at home on one gloomy day, piecing it together.

Danny spent an hour enjoying the tranquil garden, and on his way out crossed The Gardener striding up the main path. He was always around somewhere, tending to something; the man was a perfectionist; a micro-manager literally, planting seeds, cross-breeding, and hand-pollinating flowers.

“Good day to you, Sir,” said the Gardener.

“Good day to you too,” said Danny. “I’ve told you many times, I’m sure, but I don’t mind telling you again. I love this place. It’s a wonderful thing you’ve done for the citizens of Lucerne.”

“But I too am a citizen of Lucerne,” he said. “You could say it was self-interest.”

Danny pondered for a moment and said, “You are too modest. You work harder than you need to. You’re here every time I visit, doing your rounds.”

The Gardener changed the subject. “Have you seen our new shop?” Danny shook his head.

“It just opened last week. You should go and take a look. I think you’ll like it.”

The Gardener tipped his hat and walked away.

Danny made his way to the shop; it was nestled between the Amazonian Rainforest and Egyptian Oasis areas. One side was festooned with giant fig lattices, and the other side almost hidden by huge rushes and swaying palms.

“Welcome Sir!” said the young assistant. “How is your day going so far?”

Danny was tempted to tell him that his day was terrible. It was filled with despair and unrequited love. He felt worthless and hopeless, and saw few reasons to continue living. But why give this kid such a hard time? Why kill his enthusiasm? So he said, “It is going well, thank you.”

“Great! I’ve got some things that will make it even better. Please follow me.” He led Danny to a display at the front of the shop; a selection of fruit trees. He said, “These are our winter specials. I know it’s not quite winter yet, but it’s good to plan ahead, don’t you think?” Danny nodded. “They bear fruit all winter.” Danny wondered if the assistant had picked up on his despair.

“They’re quite expensive,” said Danny. “I wouldn’t usually spend so much on a plant.”

“But they are specials for a reason, Sir. Look at this winter banana, and this winter cherry. Imagine having ripe yellow and bright red cheering up your house when it’s gloomy outside? Wouldn’t that be something?”

“I guess you’re right. It would be kind of nice. And they’ll grow indoors? Very good. And even a non-gardener like me can tend them successfully? Okay, great. Maybe I’ll take them. How about one hundred dollars for them both?”

After a deal was struck, the assistant told him that he’d also need a heat lamp which was another fifty bucks. Danny was annoyed at this; he should have been told before. But the idea of brightness and sweetness in darkness appealed to him. It may just make the difference this winter. He took the trees home and placed them near his front window.

The trees thrived there at first, but the winter cherry suddenly died. The Gardener hadn’t told Danny the whole truth. The assistant couldn’t, as he didn’t know. These were ancient species, which had arrived on earth before man, locked in a timeless struggle for survival. The Gardener, an initiate of the cult of the Green Man, was not allowed to assist one over the other. His only role was to ensure a fair fight during this process of guided evolution. Whether or not Danny survived the winter was unimportant to him.

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Dreamtime Pillow

Posted in Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , on May 26, 2012 by javedbabar

Alli’s allergies were getting worse. Her doctor gave her many tests but couldn’t identify anything specific. He said it was GHD: General Hypersensitivity Disorder, and gave her a long list of “precautions against allergens”.

She cut all nuts and grains from her diet, avoided dogs, cats, and horses, hoovered her room daily, used mattress, duvet, and pillow protectors, and changed her linens twice-weekly. No peanut butter or bread was torture initially, and not stroking her friend’s pets made her sad, but after a while they became habitual. None of these “precautions against allergens” really seemed to work though. They had only marginal effects. Alli faced the fact that she would be puffy-eyed, sore-throated, blocked-nosed, scratchy-skinned, and always sneezing for the rest of her life, or at least till she became an adult. Her doctor said that many allergies disappeared when you were eighteen.

One day she saw an online ad for a special pillow. The Dreamtime Pillow was made of a unique material containing anti-allergens. Its memory foam adapted to your heat and weight, and was organic, fair-trade, local, and made by certified professionals, all over eighteen years of age. There was a double-money-back guarantee, meaning that if it didn’t help you sleep more soundly, they would give you twice your money back. Alli used her mom’s credit card to order one immediately, and the Dreamtime Pillow arrived the next day.

There were clear instructions not to cover the pillow, not even with a pillowcase. For maximum effectiveness, you should sleep with it touching your head. It was more a cushion than a full size pillow, so Alli put her usual pillow beneath it to avoid straining her neck. She remembered settling in to sleep, and then whoom! waking up the next morning. There was no dozing off, or easing out of slumber; she had fallen like a log and slept right through.

“Good morning, love,” said her mom. “How was your new pillow?”

“I don’t know,” said Alli, rubbing her eyes out of habit rather than need.

“I slept really well, and my nose and throat seem better, but…”

“But what darling? Did you have a bad dream?”

“That’s what feels strange, mum.” Alli stretched towards her for a hug. “I didn’t have any dreams. I always have dreams and remember them when I wake up, and sometimes change them while I’m still dozing. But I don’t remember anything at all this morning. I feel kind of empty.”

Her mom said, “That’s good though, isn’t it love? You usually feel bloated, sort of over-full, and now you feel empty. Maybe that pillow is helping your allergies.”

Alli decided to stick with the pillow. She used it all week and slept better than ever, but the feeling of emptiness remained. Where had her dreams gone?”

Alli woke one morning with her head fatter than ever. Her eyes wept, throat itched, nose ran, skin crawled, and she began sneezing immediately. Her allergies were really bad. Wasn’t her new pillow working anymore? Wait a minute, where was her new pillow? She saw that it was gone.

Allis’ mom was really angry with her. “I know it made you feel strange, but you shouldn’t have thrown it away. We could have got double our money back. That’s the last time you buy something on my card.”

Her mom wouldn’t believe that the pillow had disappeared. Alli decided to investigate the matter herself. She skipped school and took a bus to the City, and went to the pillow company’s store. Maybe they gave refunds for missing pillows. “I’ve come about the Dreamtime Pillow,” she said to the salesman.

“Ah! We have the perfect pillow for you Miss, just in. It’s pre-filled with dreams. All yours for the taking. But before buying it, why don’t you test this empty one. That’s right, just close your eyes…”

Alli was asleep immediately. She didn’t see the salesman press a red button beneath his desk, alerting the Dream Lab at the back of the store. They would be delighted to have a dream-subject personally available. The Returns Dept – whose job it was to retrieve dream-filled pillows at night – were always short on customer information.

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