The Inheritors Chapter 5 – Thomas Ayers, 211 Cavalos Era

Read The Inheritors Chapter 4 – Yu-Ping Chang, 22,360BC

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The Inheritors Chapter 5 – Thomas Ayers, 211 Cavalos Era

He rose through layers of thought like a diver rising through the depths, chasing the foreigner in his mind like a bubble seeking the sky. The foreigner entered his mind, a ghost at the edge of his vision, so many times in the past year he’d lost count.

“Who are you? ” he demanded.

Energies normally bled to suture the face of the universe Tommy now caught and manipulated for his own purpose. Curvatures of space were transformed into topologies of mind as he chased the intruder down.

He stopped. A place, a world he’d never experienced before, lay before him, growing and collapsing with his every breath.

He turned. The world surrounded him.

No way in and no way out? How did I get here?

The only way out was up, up through the layers of consciousness to full wakefulness. He rose, but too fast. The bay couldn’t compensate.

He panicked. His entire mind gave itself over to his unique form of thinking, engulfing himself in his own thought’s quantum signature, floating in the energies of his own mind.

The intruding thought floated away, forgotten.

Chasing the intruder required he master the Penrose problem. Doing so revealed another universe, microcosm and cosmos intertwined in ways he’d not conceived.

He rose to someplace new, a place of time-spaces where hours were distances and yardsticks measured time. The Penrose solution occulted a universe of solutions to other problems, answers he’d never thought to question.

“Ah, well, there you are. I knew there was one here. ” The intruder swept through him and Tommy twitched in his bay. His arm fell free and sliced through the light guides communicating his solutions from the mask and the Labyrinth beyond. The sudden severing of thoughts caused the quantum fluctuators to send their gathered energies back into him and he doubled over, a diver trapped with the Bends.

“No.” The voice moved through him like quicksilver. Puddles of lightning bright liquid weight and heavy light formed where the pains were greatest.

The pains ceased. His eyes saw every color he would ever see, his ears heard every sound they would ever hear, his lips and tongue tasted everything there would ever be to taste, his skin sensed everything there would ever be to touch. His body twiched again. Every synapse of his being fired as his own quantum signature collapsed inside him.

The bay reached out and lifted Tommy’s arm back into solace space, careful not to move it through the light guides a second time.

“Nice to meet you young man. Have a good day. ” The intruder pulled away.

“Wait. I disconnected from the BookShelves and you still communicated with me.”

The intruder laughed as it receded down the network of thoughts linking Tommy to the BookShelves and whatever minds lay beyond.

“Please, don’t go. ” Tommy pushed himself into the channels of thought connecting him to the Labyrinth.

The intruder stopped as if to catch its breath during the chase, turning to see if whoever followed still followed, a dog with a sock in its mouth waiting for its master to finish the game. It turned down a corridor and Tommy followed, riding the thought-energy waves as he’d been taught.

He wasn’t fast enough. The intruder pulled away, traveling faster than the thought waves allowed.

“Think, Tommy , ” he ordered himself, Think!

He slipped beneath the waves, into a Dirac Sea of others’ thought. His own thoughts’ signature engulfed him, propelling him into something deeper still, into a darkness which shouldn’t have existed in the brilliance of the Labyrinth, only to surface in a brilliance he’d never seen before.

“Where am I?”

He slammed into a wall that didn’t exist and fell back stunned. The intruder laughed. “What is inside? What is out? ”

Whatever this intruder was, the walls surrounding its thoughts contained energies beyond Tommy’s experience. Perfectly spherical, perfectly smooth. No place for purchase, nothing to hold. The realization came to Tommy as his mind raced over the energies withstanding him. “Complete, completeness.”

The intruder’s voice pulled away again, taking the sphere with it. “A measure of degree measured by the sane on the insane. To you, complete. To others, not so. Those with greater ability are judged by those with abilities greater still, yes?”

“No, don’t go. Please.”

“How do you hold onto something you cannot touch? ” The voice and sphere leapt away before Tommy could form the thought to follow. From somewhere in the matrix of minds and the labyrinth of thoughts he heard the voice echo, “Mind how you go, Thomas. Be careful what path you follow.”

Tommy came up through the remaining layers of thought slowly, letting his rising consciousness calmed him down. He wanted to be terrified. This thing, this Intruder, learned everything about him and he knew nothing about it.

A Librarian touched his arm and he rose from deep thought to ambulance. “Yes? ” His speech was muffled due to the mask.

“Your time is up for today.”

Tommy sat up slowly and swung his legs over the side of his bay. Seated, his body shivering from the coldness of his own thoughts, he waited while the Librarian removed his mask. The Neuroscaphe walls shimmered a verdant [[dull]] green.

“I’ve never noticed this color in here before. This color is reserved for under the palace domes and the parks the Cavalos maintain.’

The color faded.

Tommy asked the Librarian, “How long have you been here?”

“I just arrived.”

“What is your name?”

“SuperString Theory, 1895-2010 Old Calendar.”

“No, no, no. Your name. Do you have a name?”

The Librarian’s eyes flashed a series of colors, violet-orange-red, several times.

“I’m sorry, I could never reproduce that series. Do you have a human name?”

“Someone has called me ‘Bertrand’.”

“Someone brought here by the Travelers?”


“I’d like to meet him.”


“A girl?”

“A female, yes.”

Tommy’s attention returned to the walls. “What is the color of these walls? ” Librarians detected color by thermal inertia and had a broader visual spectrum than did any other synthetics or humans in this time.

“65 218 62 52 115 9′.

“In Standard, please.”

The Librarian slowly shifted its gaze from the walls to Tommy.

“What is it?”

“You ask a subjective.”

“Sorry. Base color, then, greatest saturation.”

The Librarian’s blisters pulsed through several colors until, like a chameleon hiding from prey, they became the color of the walls they’d just seen.

“That’s the color, yes.”

The outer edges of the blisters wavered in hue briefly and Tommy heard it as a whisper on his skin, “Green. ” The color faded and the Librarian’s blisters quavered in ways Tommy’d never seen before, nor could he make out the sounds.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t understand you.”

“I laughed.”

Tommy stared the Librarian face to face. “Oh, I’m sorry, I missed the joke.”

“We broadcast the colors around us only three times; we are dead, we are hiding, we are stupid. The last is used if we answer what is to us an obvious question.”

Tommy smiled. “I get it, you were saying ‘Duh’. ” He hesitated, balancing on the edge of the bay. “I’m glad the Librarians have a sense of humor, Bertrand.”

“Among ourselves, yes. Even to slaves laughter is free.”

“You are not slaves.”

“Then it would be impossible to laugh.”

Tommy shook his head. Like their language, Librarian thought was complex.

“Is there something else, Tommy?”

“No. Nothing.”

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Opanella Stays Warm Under Our Shed

She’s cute and she’s quite the homemaker.

Opanella is small by Opossum standards for this time of year (this video is from the first day of Winter 2019). Last days of Fall, first days of Winter, opossum need to be beefy and bulky, better able to withstand the cold, coming months.

You’ll notice Opanella is neither. Petite, one might say. We first noticed her trundling under our porch. A few years back an elderly opossum decided to pass over there. Had a devil of a time getting his remains out.

So seeing Opanella’s interest there, we blocked her access.

Undaunted, she cast her tiny-eyed gaze on our shed.

Yep, that’s where she’d homesteading now.

Less of a concern, this. She’s well protected and it’s much easier to lift a shed than a porch.

As with all who bless us with their company, we make sure she has something good to eat.

‘Night, all.


The Inheritors Chapter 4 – Yu-Ping Chang, 22,360BC

Read The Inheritors Chapter 3 – Reginald Seth Van Gelder, 1635AD

Creator and above level members can download a PDF of this chapter to read offline

The Inheritors Chapter 4 – Yu-Ping Chang, 22,360BC

The dogs beat her to the kill, so once again she satisfied herself with the tall, dry, yellow-green shoots of the tundra hiding the mouth of her cave. Far below another band of nomads crossed the plain stretching from the base of her mountain to as far as her eyes could see, the nomads moving across the high grasses like seeds blown in the wind. They wore heavy, thick furred coats and boots, meaning they came south before catching the herd trails taking them north and east, the place the old skywalkers called Next Place, the place some called Heaven.

Hidden from view, she sucked what little juices she could from the stalks in her mouth and wiped the core resins on her skin to mask her scent. The nomads were dirty and smelled, but their dogs knew their masters’ scent and would bark if they got wind of hers. Then these nomads would rush up her mountainside with their stone knives and spears, barbarians whose children were of less use to them than their dogs. At least their dogs would get something to eat.

She spit out a shoot that had nothing left to offer and pulled a tick from her hair, crushing it between her fingers then licking the juices back in. The nomads’ dogs weren’t all tame. Some would hunt their masters as well as hunt with them, an uneasy truce Yu-Ping used when she could. This was the third such party she’d seen, another slow procession to pass the day, the first so long ago she could not count it.

But oh, that day.

Others in her band came running, warning of hunters marching through their lands. Her family and others sought refuge in the mountains the skywalkers said gave them birth. There they escaped the sickness of those first wanderers. Those of her band that did not die on the tundra from the wanderers’ breath died by their hand and were eaten. For that she could not blame them. Many of the herds found their way to the Next Place long before any people followed leaving nothing to eat. Often those in her own band waited impatiently for one of the old ones to die, or in some cases, if the old one had no one, hurried them along.

Her belly ached when those first wanderers came. She climbed further up the mountain than did others in her band. That’s when she heard the horror and, fascinated, followed it to its source: a bear and a tiger rending each other limb from limb at the mouth of a cave, a cave in time she would call her own.

She never saw anything like it, never heard of anything like it. No elder spoke of such a thing. The bear and tiger fought fiercely but for what? Her mouth opened to call the others but her words were silenced by their roars.

She watched for what seemed like days as these two great beasts circled and mauled each other. Blood poured from them, skanks of fur hung from exposed bones, until finally both fell, exhausted or dead she did not know.

What caused these two great ones to battle each other? Powerful magic, this. Old ones and the skywalkers talked of such things but never anything so dramatic as this. Seeing these two animals fight would shape her life, this she knew. It must. She would make it the mission of her life to find out why these two great spirits fought until both lay dead.

She would.

Yes, as soon as she rejoined her band, she would tell them and she would do this.

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Turkeys, NPR, and Morning Coffee

Who would have thought Turkeys would enjoy listening to NPR in the morning, or sharing a wake-up cup of coffee with an old friend?

This video is from almost two months back. We have more recent Turkeyings. Probably get to them about two months hence.

Often a few turkey will come to our windows, peer in, look back and forth as Susan and I sharing a morning croissant.

“Is that a ham and cheese?” one gobbles. Another gobbles, “Is that a blueberry?” and another “Is that a cherry?”

Well, first thing, if it were any of those we wouldn’t share.

Okay, we would, but only because the Turkey guard our backwoods furiously and we appreciate their diligence.

You haven’t lived until you’ve ducked from a wild turkey flying overhead.



The Inheritors Chapter 3 – Reginald Seth Van Gelder, 1635AD

Read The Inheritors Chapter 2 – Tommy Ayers, 210 Cavalos Era

Creator and above level members can download a PDF of this chapter to read offline

The Inheritors Chapter 3 – Reginald Seth Van Gelder, 1635AD

He woke up terrified. And pleased. Nothing — Nothing! — Father ever told him mentioned anything like this.

Addie, his nurse since suckling babe, came in at his first stirrings. “Young Master?”

He wanted her to take him to her breast as she had for every fall, every come-uppance, every insult since first he walked.

Instead he pulled his bedsheets tighter around him, feeling naked for the first time before the woman who had washed him since birth.

His young sister Sharon called him from the hall. “It is morning, Seth. Come out and play.”

“Close the door.”

Addie stared at him. “Master Reginald?”

“Close the door , ” he shrieked.

She closed the door behind her and approached his bed.


Her dark, Welsh-coal hands fell against her white apron and black skirts. “Master Reginald, it is Addie here. ” She raised her arms to embrace him and started towards him again.

“No. ” He struck his foot to the frame beneath the covers of the bed.

She turned and opened the door. “I will get your father. He will see to this. ” She stared at him from the doorway, “full-rigged ” as Father said when talking with his chums.

Seth did not answer. She closed the door and left.

He pulled the scattered bedclothes around him, feeling himself and something else, something new and different recently come from him.

One of his mother’s nurses knocked on his door. “Are you well, Reginald?”

“Yes. quite well.”

The lie sickened him. Something was different today. The childish-fat still clinging to his chest and stomach and arms and face, something Addie rubbed to a fine glow yesterday to make him laugh, not to be touched today.

Not to be touched by Addie.

Father’s heavy steps came down the hall. The door opened and Father stood there, short and solid, balding without his wig but with his mustache perfumed and stiffened until it curled like some vizer’s sword upon his face.

“Get out, ” Seth shrieked.

Father lifted a rod he’d hidden behind him. “That so? Get out yourself, then. Get out of that bed I’ve given you and then get out of this house.”

Mother rushed up behind him and pulled the rod from his hand. “No, James. Please. You know the boy. It’s his fits. It’s not him at all.”

Father bloodied her nose and took the rod from her. “A fit, is it? We’ll see to that. Get out of bed, Reginald. Do you hear me? ” He lifted the rod over his head again. “Get out of that bed.”

Addie came back and stood behind Father. She rested a dark hand on Father’s arm and, upon seeing her, he put the rod down and stared at his wife.

“A fit is it he’s had? See to him, then.”

Addie curtsied to Mother and Father alike. “Yes, Master James. ” She closed the door behind her as they left. “You are well, Master Reginald?”

Seth tensed, hoping to stifle the quivering of his chin, to squeeze shut the watering of his eyes. He promised himself not one summer ago to no longer suffer Father’s rages.

It was no use. His own rage grew at each failed attempt.

Father was correct. He, Reginald Seth Van Gelder, was less than a worthless churl, some high-toby gloak, not fit to be seen by Father’s eyes.

His rage turned inward once again. What had he done? What warranted such rage between Father and son?

Is this the proper fit in every London house?

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