fridges are nice in hot weather
All was quiet in the land of the dead. Janus of the two-faces, both guard and guardian, wiped his brow, and looked up at the big screen. A bunch of numbers and images were flashing by on a loop, which were clearly designed to look impressive rather than impart any useful information. The Eryx Corporation’s shares were up two points. Big deal. Janus had other things to worry about.
He turned his attention to the gaunt figure crouched on her throne, and frowned. Since her ‘reappearance’, Madame Tzarsou had been strangely subdued, to the point where the Secret Chamber of Doom was more like the dark and gloomy cave of reality. The lava pits were not boiling orange but rather black with the occasional flicker and glow of magma, and the walls were dirty and the air was fetid. Madame Tzarsou was sleeping, and she had been for much of the last few days.
With her blonde wig and square jaw, she was a ridiculous thing to look at. Janus did not know much about her past, other than she had originally come from Austria, or was it Germany? He wasn’t sure, and neither was Madame Tzarsou. She spoke very little about things like that, but it always left him with the impression that she was old...impossibly so. Being locked away in this dark cave would be enough to drive anyone mad, he thought. The only time she was ever lucid was when she was in front of the organ, and he knew that never ended well. He had to keep her isolated and psychotic for her own good.
Janus walked slowly towards her, and stopped when he saw her eyes were open. She raised her head slowly, and there was an unmistakeable glint in her eyes.
“It is time,” she said quietly. “My empire shall rise.”
Janus’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” He noticed that she had what looked like a remote control in her hand, but it only had one button. A big, ominous, red button.
She laughed, and grinned widely. “A new terror shall cast a shadow over the land! Watch!” She pressed the big red button, and...
Nothing happened. Janus sighed and shook his head, but suddenly the ground started shaking. A terrible rumble like a raging thunderstorm filled the Secret Chamber of Doom, and Janus was astonished to see the floor split asunder. Rising from the subterranean came a terrible beast, with cold lifeless eyes and a heart of steel. Madame Tzarsou looked from the beast to Janus with childlike delight.
“I thought...” Janus said, struggling to find the words. Madame Tzarsou regarded him smugly.
“Well you thought wrong, didn’t you? You naughty boy! You deserve a spanky bottom for your lack of faith, but I’ll let you off this one time.”
The beast stood, completely still, looming and dead. Having recovered from the shock, Janus cast a critical eye over the beast. His fear was replaced with amusement. “It’s not very big, is it? For a humongous mecha, I mean. It’s what, ten feet tall?”
“It’s bigger than you!”
“Well yes. Yes it is. But you might as well just wear a suit of armour...”
“Shut up.” Madame Tzarsou looked lovingly at the not-so-humongous mecha. “I don't get inside it, obviously. It is remote controlled. With this, my insidious plot for world domination cannot fail! I shall rule supreme over all dominions and stuff!” She blinked, and smiled. “I love being an evil overlord, I do!”
“...some people say that the richness of the inner world of thought far exceeds that of the outer world of material things. The physical realm is finite and limited, while the imagination is infinite in its ability to sculpt and mould the world.”
“That’s nice,” Molly said tiredly. The taxi weaved its way through the streets of Flores towards her hotel, and as the driver continued to talk, Molly felt herself dozing off. The only thing worse than a philosopher, in Molly’s opinion, was a philosopher with a captive audience. If she was honest, it was something that she wouldn’t normally mind, but it reminded her of the day in Havana with Pierre and Toussaint, and she wanted to forget. It didn’t help that he was talking in Spanish, a language Molly only had a basic knowledge of.
The taxi crossed a bridge, into old Flores. This part of the city was built on an island in the middle of Lake Peten Itza, which Molly found strange but also quite delightful. The buildings were all white with red roofs, and after three long hours, it was a huge relief. Flores did technically have an airport, but there weren’t any flights available for the next three days, so Molly had had to get a taxi from Guatemala City after landing at La Aurora airport. The taxi drew up to Hotel de la Isla, where Molly had booked a room.
“This hotel in your mind is so much richer than it is in reality,” the cabbie declared. “You can twist it and enlarge it and make it a five star if you just imagine it to be, but in the material world it remains a small, three star hotel, with many cockroaches. That will be seven hundred quetzals.”
Molly wasn’t sure how much seven hundred quetzals were in Haitian gourdes, but she nonetheless handed over a wad of bills and took her luggage out of the boot as the taxi driver watched and laughed, before speeding off and covering Molly in a cloud of dust.
“He’s probably going twice as fast in his mind,” Molly muttered with contempt, once she had recovered from a choking fit.
She checked in, and had to drag her suitcase up to her room herself as the only porter the hotel employed was taking a cigarette break. The room was small and stuffy. “We Centro-Americans are strong, unlike you Haitians! We don’t need air conditioning!” Molly opened the window, and sat on the bed. She then promptly passed out from heat exhaustion, and dreamt she was in a fridge somewhere in Jamaica.
44
All was quiet in the land of the dead. Janus of the two-faces, both guard and guardian, wiped his brow, and looked up at the big screen. A bunch of numbers and images were flashing by on a loop, which were clearly designed to look impressive rather than impart any useful information. The Eryx Corporation’s shares were up two points. Big deal. Janus had other things to worry about.
He turned his attention to the gaunt figure crouched on her throne, and frowned. Since her ‘reappearance’, Madame Tzarsou had been strangely subdued, to the point where the Secret Chamber of Doom was more like the dark and gloomy cave of reality. The lava pits were not boiling orange but rather black with the occasional flicker and glow of magma, and the walls were dirty and the air was fetid. Madame Tzarsou was sleeping, and she had been for much of the last few days.
With her blonde wig and square jaw, she was a ridiculous thing to look at. Janus did not know much about her past, other than she had originally come from Austria, or was it Germany? He wasn’t sure, and neither was Madame Tzarsou. She spoke very little about things like that, but it always left him with the impression that she was old...impossibly so. Being locked away in this dark cave would be enough to drive anyone mad, he thought. The only time she was ever lucid was when she was in front of the organ, and he knew that never ended well. He had to keep her isolated and psychotic for her own good.
Janus walked slowly towards her, and stopped when he saw her eyes were open. She raised her head slowly, and there was an unmistakeable glint in her eyes.
“It is time,” she said quietly. “My empire shall rise.”
Janus’s heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean?” He noticed that she had what looked like a remote control in her hand, but it only had one button. A big, ominous, red button.
She laughed, and grinned widely. “A new terror shall cast a shadow over the land! Watch!” She pressed the big red button, and...
Nothing happened. Janus sighed and shook his head, but suddenly the ground started shaking. A terrible rumble like a raging thunderstorm filled the Secret Chamber of Doom, and Janus was astonished to see the floor split asunder. Rising from the subterranean came a terrible beast, with cold lifeless eyes and a heart of steel. Madame Tzarsou looked from the beast to Janus with childlike delight.
“I thought...” Janus said, struggling to find the words. Madame Tzarsou regarded him smugly.
“Well you thought wrong, didn’t you? You naughty boy! You deserve a spanky bottom for your lack of faith, but I’ll let you off this one time.”
The beast stood, completely still, looming and dead. Having recovered from the shock, Janus cast a critical eye over the beast. His fear was replaced with amusement. “It’s not very big, is it? For a humongous mecha, I mean. It’s what, ten feet tall?”
“It’s bigger than you!”
“Well yes. Yes it is. But you might as well just wear a suit of armour...”
“Shut up.” Madame Tzarsou looked lovingly at the not-so-humongous mecha. “I don't get inside it, obviously. It is remote controlled. With this, my insidious plot for world domination cannot fail! I shall rule supreme over all dominions and stuff!” She blinked, and smiled. “I love being an evil overlord, I do!”
***
“...some people say that the richness of the inner world of thought far exceeds that of the outer world of material things. The physical realm is finite and limited, while the imagination is infinite in its ability to sculpt and mould the world.”
“That’s nice,” Molly said tiredly. The taxi weaved its way through the streets of Flores towards her hotel, and as the driver continued to talk, Molly felt herself dozing off. The only thing worse than a philosopher, in Molly’s opinion, was a philosopher with a captive audience. If she was honest, it was something that she wouldn’t normally mind, but it reminded her of the day in Havana with Pierre and Toussaint, and she wanted to forget. It didn’t help that he was talking in Spanish, a language Molly only had a basic knowledge of.
The taxi crossed a bridge, into old Flores. This part of the city was built on an island in the middle of Lake Peten Itza, which Molly found strange but also quite delightful. The buildings were all white with red roofs, and after three long hours, it was a huge relief. Flores did technically have an airport, but there weren’t any flights available for the next three days, so Molly had had to get a taxi from Guatemala City after landing at La Aurora airport. The taxi drew up to Hotel de la Isla, where Molly had booked a room.
“This hotel in your mind is so much richer than it is in reality,” the cabbie declared. “You can twist it and enlarge it and make it a five star if you just imagine it to be, but in the material world it remains a small, three star hotel, with many cockroaches. That will be seven hundred quetzals.”
Molly wasn’t sure how much seven hundred quetzals were in Haitian gourdes, but she nonetheless handed over a wad of bills and took her luggage out of the boot as the taxi driver watched and laughed, before speeding off and covering Molly in a cloud of dust.
“He’s probably going twice as fast in his mind,” Molly muttered with contempt, once she had recovered from a choking fit.
She checked in, and had to drag her suitcase up to her room herself as the only porter the hotel employed was taking a cigarette break. The room was small and stuffy. “We Centro-Americans are strong, unlike you Haitians! We don’t need air conditioning!” Molly opened the window, and sat on the bed. She then promptly passed out from heat exhaustion, and dreamt she was in a fridge somewhere in Jamaica.
Last edited: