Begin at the mad hatter. Then go on to the
dark matter, then stop. Proceed all the way
to Knossos, past the Pompei explosion, find
a path back to Gesundheit (whate’er the spell
ing). Now the margin on this page is so very
smug. The eternal seed feeds all the 11 dimen
sions, and the duality is measured by wave
disequilibrium and relativistic increase (or
was it decrease?). Sean C is stationed on
Planet Vashisht, a snowy-mountainy place
where there is a cold monastery, and only
a couple of people attendants (and no monks)
and there is food aplenty (soup with pasta).
there is, of course (de corsa) a dark mirror.
and in the mirror (which Sean C is encouraged
to explore), the secrets of days past and future
may be met with Arjuna-like courage. All this
myth is unsavoury, say the heathen romatics.
therefore, more myth. At the gate in Babylon,
we said (we the author, not the characters),
there was a statue of Venus (persian one)
and lots of lions. There, einstein talked about
only being able to see the tail of the lion.
for this reason (once more), we (the authors)
encourage you (the reader(s)) to explore the
concept of the buddha-like elephant, which cannot
be fathomed, but man can touch man, say Robin.
It is late. It is the middle of the night.
No fingers pointing to satellites, and I am
sure (I the present state) that there is Brahman
out there that oversees all. In the meantime,
since we do have a little atman to share, let
us consider the following. On Vashisht, there is
a cat (still replicating) and there is a man
(an info-man). Also, on Uranus (ah no they moved
to planet Fear), we’ve got Ariadne with the Never
Ender crew. what a coincidence.
Ariadne came to Knossos, near the source of this
spring water, a while back, and was looking for
her hair. The architect had a son, who also had
pissed on Helios’s dignity. For this reason, kids
I would like to make the following pronounce
ment. Please, please please. If you can avoid
it, do not piss off Helios, we’ve had enough
comet showers, and earth quakes, and volcano
eruptions. Well, this night, dearReader. I
think I myself shall not have any eruption.
the writing is pretty much done. The story
can take off if we start peering into dark
mirrors. Sean C is rather tired, the journey
from titan was so very long (approximately
three ages and some middle-way side-tracks).
So finally, the cat and the poem may rest.
For now. My pen was at the bottom of a Beppo
page, but no more. If the X trusted mother
Theresa, then the X must trust us all. Con
sidering Brahman, a perishable word for an
unperishable concept. “The ship under sail
has surely passed the cape of Wada, driven
as it is by the mountain winds of Muko.”
Hokusai-san, share the secret of the wave
and the sacred mountain.
On planet Fear, Ariadne reviews the troops.
Surely, chief strategist Zhuge Liang would
agree, one needs a little wind in one’s sails.
The NeverEnder harbours at port Labyrinth, a
place where the double axe marks the takeoff
spot. The wind is in the East, and all is
quiet on the Western front, or was it southern.
Duality, the horns of the dilemma, of course
that is why we are here. So Ariadne, black
sails and all, sets sail (repetition, excuse
moi) toward Urania (mother goddess of the
snake, sky, earth and earth2). Back to Uranus,
then, but with a vengeance. On the way, we’d
like to stop over at the Water Planet, where
The Peak Civilization is having a bit of a
croissant, and the Veal civilization is definite
ly looking to put together the broken pieces
of his lions. Then the other, very significant
civilization, stationed on planet Griffin, is
the 1206 merchant city-planet of another most
serene water-bound thing of the public. Res
publica superiorem non recognoscens, they say.
The also say, kill the dogs, especially if
they come from the south with ships laden
with black sails. This, of course, reminds me
that the Griffinese flag has been borrowed by
Some silly race of the north, one whose planet
has a capital built on a muddy river (of course)
and that uses a red cross on a white banner
to remind themselves of their allegiance to
So now that we’ve got the old alliances in place
the Griffinese with the Veal, the Peak and the
bastard race of the north (dicit a certain poet
whose book about a Crusoe shipwreck survivor
endures in pockets of Post-prandia), we can
have ourselves a war. On the other hand the
forces opposing this alliance (famously spear
headed by Ariadne and the NeverEnder) are
rather scattered on the plain of Kurukshetra.
So first things first. Urania claims holy
water purification in the skylight water
basin. Then Ariadne, famously itching for
freedom, has a look at Planet Dionysus.
The black flags are still fluttering in
the wind, the Muko mountains breathe.
There once was a king, seated toward the
Helios the Titan, whose son travelled
to the Athenian school, and had his balls
cut off by the local version of Cretan
games. Now these were not international
in kind, and the locals were rather un
fair in their unsportmanlikeness. So,
the bull-headed king had a rather bad
day, and declared war on the petty
Athenian school. But that was before
the Yamato Cave Academy, and much much
before the establishment of the Borovoe
earth station. Sean C and the cat are
still trouble-making by peering in the
dark mirror. The mountains loom and the
snow is thick. Ariadne is treading her
pace in search of the exit from the
local king’s harbour-bar. the place
of the double-axe is where the NeverEnder,
on its course toward Uranus has docked
in search of a little water, and a little
lamia. That is the one word that we
should avoid, considering how pissed
off the winds are when we head toward
the west, NeverEnder and all, with all
the cannons blazing, and the desire to
confront some issues that have been
(so to speak) hanging in mid-cosmos
for a few millennia (or was it billennia).
Fear, wonder, love. Onto the virgin lands
the NeverEnders (the officers and the cadets)
disembark. The Urania Goddess welcomes them
to the sky. Fortune Lobo tooks his Rabdoman
Call Junior (his Y-chromosome Wing) and
(I mean his personal spaceship, eh) flew
over to planet Poseidon (Roman name, Neptune).
there, he found a very sick planet, still
mourning for the loss of his people, the
people of the island of the Atlas.
On planet Vashisht, many years into the
space-bent future (or was it the past),
the dark mirror reflects monstruous echoes
of burning tigers in the candle light.
Ripples of the enemy and of fingers of
assiduous ravenousness. The ghost is to
be busted and the slithering voices are
to be ignored. The memory of early defeat
needs to be replaced by the advancing
perfection of the flow and the anger is
to be contained.
The neverEnder sets sail for Titan, 2500
years from now the Buddha, the awakened one
died (but before that, he lived, and spun
wheels). 1500 years years into the future
(give or take), Sean C is peering into
the dark mirror. 1613 years before the
birth of the other prophet, whose name
now appears to escape me, Ariadne was born.
She grew up, daughter of Minos, king of
Crete, and then she was snatched by Dyonisius.
She was immortalized, like Artemis.
i ariadni i lisi. women think up the strategy,
the solution of the problem. Ariadne, vritometis.
So Ariadne directs the NeverEnder to Titan,
now abandoned. The probe Cassini once
travelled the oceans, and watched the waves.
It stopped at the mysterious island and
fathomed the full many a gems in the depths
of ethane and methane seas. On Titan, the
probe found evidence of alien life, a sort
of loch ness creature in the depths of the
methane ocean. Now, feeding on hydrocarbons,
who in this world would ever think of that, eh?
From the Labrys Harbour on Uranus, bade farewell
to Urania, the snake-Goddess of the south,
flew to Knossos station on Titan, and onto
the ocean sailing journey over the Kraken Mare
The sea there is deep, but there are no Korean
squids, just tiny hands of love that touch you
in all the right places during the restnight.
Ariadne is still upset about her father, lost
a long time ago, and though he bequeathed a
sword to her, she’s only been practising behind
close doors, afraid of herself (rightly so)
unfortunately, she has never confronted a foe.
Ariadne, Immortalized Goddess, now captain of
the NeverEnder, is in the present incarnation
a speaker of the Peak language, but also loves
bastard race of the north (west). Once at Knossos
station, she goes down to the basement
and performs a religious purification (with
methane, or was it methanol). the mysterious
island on Titan has been visited by the Vea race,
much before the demise of the Memorians, and
the rise of the oblivians. They named it (God
bless them) “the island of many saints”, though
not much is left after a volcano and a tsunami
destroyed it (and the civilization on it).
The original name of the island (it was a
place where the race of Alexander must have
been, or said to have been) has been lost
though Ariadne is on it, doing research and
Desert Storm (now back with the NeverEnder)
is helping her. All the crew are back together;
Tierra Madre has found the path to Zuracornia,
Gesunheit has found a plausible solution to
God’s algorithm (or was it g.o.d.’s).
Now they sail on the ocean deep, proud prow
remembering the siege and the burning of the
Yamato Hollow Cave, and mourning on the shores
of lybia. Memorians themselves, and found so.
Sailing toward the mysterious island, now
discovered to be named after Thera, and they
probe the seas for carbon fiber. There is
something on the ocean floor. A mirror-like
shape, a liquid carbon phase. It speaks!
Yet it says nothing. “What of that, its
eye discourses”. The mirror eye sees every
thing, much like Odin in the well (or was
up-side down hanging from a tree. What
ever). Ariadne, sub-methaned and all geared
she talkes to the eye-mirror, and she
laughs. it is time for john c to exit
the vashisht hide out, and for Cicciotta
to have dinner. The war is over, for now.
Ariadne is mourning, and her love is strong.
Sean C is still in the making, Cicciotta
spider-weaves a traning suit. Zeus is not
dead, he is only sleeping. The Milky Way
is still pulsating, and the Philae Comet
is being ridden. Comet-riding is an ancient
activity (Monkey is good at it) and so is
comet-gazing (rabbit is very well versed).
now the poem (not very well versed) is almost
done. I just have to find a way back,
cos John C is still stuck in the mud.
Ariadne is still lost to Dyonisius,
and the long, melanchololy withdrawing
roar of the Sea of Faith is still echoing
stronger and stronger every day.
What will Fortune Lobo find of Poseidon’s
planet? What destiny awaits Gawain, now
asundered from Monkey? Will the NeverEnder
find the core of Titan, and will the dark
mirror on Planet Vashisht spew out more
lamias and demons? Will the eye-mirror
on Thera tell the truer truth, or not at
all? Will la belle dame sans merci
(transiently stationed at a bank) ever
send a message to the the cold hill side?
All these questions, and more, will have
to be addressed.
But as Michael Ende once told Bastian,
these tales shall be told, but they
shall be told another time.