Inchoate: (Short Stories Volume I)

By Lazlo Ferran

Now includes an Urdu translation of Inchoate.

Inchoate
Set in prehistoric North America, this tells the story of how a delinquent time traveller calls the first Board Meeting in History and inadvertently incurs the wrath of all his bosses. He is put on trial but is he all he seems?

The Jesus Monster
A lethal alien virus reaches the last healthy community on Earth.

Henry's Car
In this hilarious sci-fi story, a Royal Time Traveller from the 16th Century goes stock car racing.

Ordo Lupus and the Temple Gate
Why is a notorious religious cult of assassins keeping him alive?

His teenage daughter is viciously murdered in Lyon by a long-forgotten biblical monster. A former WWII MI6 agent, our hero is suspected of her murder by the police and his divorcing wife.

With supernatural powers of foresight he goes on the run to clear his name. He has only one friend - a historian and member of the modern Knights Hospitaller but with his help he embarks on a white-knuckle ride to salvation.

In Paris a witch servant of the mysterious Catholic assassin sect Concilium Putus Visum seduces him during his quest for the secret weapon of the Cathars. If he can solve a puzzling set of clues to find the weapon, he might kill the monster and save his marriage.

But why do the assassins and the monster seem to be protecting him?

Lovers of Dan Brown's evocative mix of mystery and history will love this Occult Thriller - a dark and powerful tale.

Too Bright the Sun
A man afraid of his own soul!

Seeking revenge for the death of a friend ten long years ago, Major Jake Nanden has pursued his own personal demons with an almost religious fervour through life and through battle.

He is a soldier so highly decorated that his fame reaches far beyond the desolate moon Io where he is stationed. His victories in the Jupiter Wars are hollow though, for he is a man scared of his own soul.

His life seems to be a trap from which he cannot escape. His is the Replicant Company, and replicants are despised by all.

Likened to a cross between Blade Runner and Paths of Glory, you simply must read this beautifully constructed, intensely dark and powerful Science Fiction tale-with-a-twist if you love Phillip K. Dick and Isaac Asimov.

Ordo Lupus and the Temple Gate - from the author:
I had been pursuing a theological interest in the Cathars; first though reading a number of books by Henry Lincoln and later an interest in Monségur and the Rennes-le-Château, near where the lost treasure of the Cathars is said to be hidden. The Cathars were an ancient sect who came to prominence and were ruthlessly persecuted by the Catholics in the 1300s, mainly in and around the Languedoc Region of France. They believed that the Christian god was really Rex Mundi, or 'God of Earth.'
The second theme I wanted to get into my novel was the gothic. The themes of blood, death, eroticism, sex and transcendence are all things that I desire in a good novel. My influences were Kate Bush, The Mission, Lord Byron, John Keats (The Eve of St. Agnes is a particularly favourite poem of mine) and to some extent Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Sex and death are the themes that everyone seems attracted to.
A year before I started this work, I read both Dan Brown and Angels & Demons by Dan Brown. These books were certainly an influence on me. Like him I have been fascinated for many years by the rumour or myth that Mary went to France and that Jesus had a descendant. Like him and many others, I speculate that the Cathars did in fact smuggle a great treasure out of Monségur castle, under the noses of the Royalist besiegers.
I couldn't resist a climax to my novel that took place in one of the world's greatest Gothic masterpieces. But you will have to read the novel to find out where ...

Grab your copy today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lazlo Ferran
• Release date: Oct 31, 2010
• ISBN: 9781311242181

Lazlo Ferran

Lazlo Ferran: Exploring the Landscapes of Truth.Educated near Oxford, during English author Lazlo Ferran’s extraordinary life, he has been an aeronautical engineering student, dispatch rider, graphic designer, full-time busker, guitarist and singer, recording two albums. Having grown up in rural Buckinghamshire Lazlo says:“The beautiful Chiltern Hills offered the ideal playground for a child’s mind, in contrast to the ultra-strict education system of Bucks.”Brought up as a Buddhist, he has travelled widely, surviving a student uprising in Athens and living for a while in Cairo, just after Sadat’s assassination. Later, he spent some time in Central Asia and was only a few blocks away from gunfire during an attempt to storm the government buildings of Bishkek in 2006. He has a keen interest in theologies and philosophies of the Far East, Middle East, Asia and Eastern Europe.After a long and successful career within the science industry, Lazlo Ferran left to concentrate on writing, to continue exploring the landscapes of truth.

Book preview

Inchoate (Short Stories Volume I)

Lazlo Ferran

Copyright © 2008 by Lazlo Ferran

All Rights Reserved.

Visit the Lazlo Ferran blog to see what I am currently working on: http://www.lazloferran.com

You will find an Urdu translation of Inchoate straight after this English version.

Inchoate

Copyright © 2008 by Lazlo Ferran

All Rights Reserved.

Okay. Fuckit! yes! I was there. I spent enough time in the last few par-weeks denying it, and since you have become my confidante, let me admit it now. I was there.

So now the shit had hit the fan, and humankind had reached their Check-point Charlie wassisname on their biggest planet - Jupiter I think it’s called – a few million years too early, and we hadn't been ready for them. So somebody has to pay. And it looks like it will be me. Not sure really if I am guilty, but there it is. Soon the trial will be over, and the whole damned quadrant – if not the Universe – will know, and then I will really be screwed.

But anyway, when are they going to change the broken light like I asked? This constant flicking on and off every few seconds in a ten-by-eight seribdenum cell gives me nowhere to hide, and already claustrophobic, now I am getting a damned headache.

Ha! Ha! It was so funny on the first day of my defence when I came right out and said it. Said it out LOUD. They were expecting lies, and I have to admit, I had spent almost all the time since my arrest thinking of plausible alibis, but none would give me as good a chance of getting off as admitting the truth - or most of it. The bit I wouldn’t admit was the main reason I did it; that I was bored.

***

Mr As-qinov, your company records show that on the day in question, 4 August in the year -2.4BE you were indeed assigned to the sector in Northern Texas - on supposedly strictly observational duties.

I had just denied I was anywhere near the area - had in fact gone home one day early on leave as I was not feeling well. The Council for the Prosecution paused, took off his VisGogs and glanced down from his dais with disdain at me before staring knowingly at the Jury. That was the point at which I admitted I was there, know what I mean?

Yes Okay. Okay. I was there. I remember now. I have been under stress you know, and I thought at first the day you mentioned was actually the day after I left. Okay, so I think I know how it must have happened, but it was really nothing. I never meant any harm and really with the god-damned – sorry, with the boredom I had to endure, I just made a simple mistake!

I turned to the audience for the full effect. You see a Mole's job is to mix in with the natives and observe how far advanced they have become – to fill in the Cryme’s Register accordingly and not to interact with the locals any more than strictly necessary.

I had been there weeks. WEEKS! And I was sick. Eating tough rancid bison – or whatever those damned things were called - meat every day - bison stew, barbequed bison and bison à la salt every day was really getting me down. And on TOP of that this hairy old whore called – as near as I can make out, Ung-dwid, was all over me, know what I mean? All over me. She stank!

So I was bored and fed up, and these hairy dudes were all sitting around late morning after a night’s hunting, partying and screwing, and I could see trouble brewing. I was scared!

Dug-fa-ah; these damned names, don’t they get you? He was the big alpha-male and as dumb as a fish but built like a brick-shit-house. Even I was scared of him, and I had a taser in my hidden pocket. Anyway, he was loping around cuffing some of the others – Zuu-gug and the tall one, whose name I can’t remember – and then he just starting beating Zuu-gug with this damned club. Just kind of recreationally, it seemed to me. Then his dark beady eyes set on me, and I just had to act. I had holiday coming on full-pay, ’cause I had done a full year without a break, and it’s just not done to cause a fight among the natives, know what I mean?

So there I am 2.4 Million years before proper civilization on this damned backwater planet, under the searing heat of a pre-historic sun among the conifers, dressed in a stinking, itchy, lice-infested goat-skin and big hairy wig – I haven’t washed for nearly a month, and suddenly I had this idea.

‘Get them distracted’ I thought to myself, so I decided to confuse them a little bit.

Umm … unan … shey, I said out loud, sweeping my arms around encompassing all the dudes there – but not the women. That was the phrase that meant, ‘Okay let’s call a board-meeting.’ Old Dug, he looked at me curious for a moment, and then a kind of smile came across his hairy face, and he grunted, grabbed a hunk of meat of some other dude, and we all went off to the sacred fire to have this pow-wow.

I had this idea I would give them something to really test their brain-power – you know - might contribute to my own personal research documentation, and then I chuckled to myself. They all looked at me, and Dug banged his club on the ground. I kind of wished I had my little phrase-pod in my hand then, ’cause some of the phrases I needed were tricky, but anyway I started formally as you do.

We need to discuss something very important, I said in a loud voice. They were all looking at me now, all thirty-six of the dudes. Some were picking their noses, or ears, or playing with stones, but mostly they were listening. Most of them had been confused by my appearance wearing the tribal icons a few weeks before. With these they had to accept me, but they still couldn’t figure out where I came from, and it made them extra-interested in anything I said.

We need to consider a mystery. Something that other tribes have considered, but they are not like us. They cannot find the answer, because they are too stupid. I thought this would really get them on side, and it seemed to work. I totally had the floor now. They were mine. I pointed to a stone on the ground.

See that stone? It is there. I know it is there, because I can see it, and I can pick it up.

I demonstrated the veracity of this for the dimmer in the audience by picking it up.

See the mountain? I pointed to it. We know it is there, because we can see it and walk to it.

But now we have a more difficult question. A bigger mystery!

I looked at Dug, his mouth hanging open with rapt concentration. He noticed I had seen his childlike curiosity, closed his mouth and bit an extra-large chunk of bison from the haunch.

And the question is, do we exist? I swept my hand around taking in all the dudes there, know what I mean?

I waited for effect. There was stunned, dumb silence. I looked at Dug. Nothing going on behind these eyes. Okay I would need to clarify.

What I mean is, we can touch each other and talk to each other, but how do we know that our friends are not just dreams? How do we know, no wait - how do I know that I am not a dream?

Dug looked quite angry at this point, and there were stirrings - some of the guys were starting to get restless, and one or two looked like they were thinking of leaving. Then suddenly at the back a quiet dude, later I found out his name was Ung-dun-pwi, stuck his hairy finger in the air.

You could have cut the air with a stone knife. Everybody stopped what they were doing and looked at him. Even Dug stopped mid-bite and cast his beady eyes toward Ung.

Um. You mean; am I awake? he said, using the sounds that meant that.

Um. Not quite, but you are close, I said. I was quite shocked that he was even this close, and I was beginning to feel a little queasy. I realized I had unwittingly broken one of the first laws of my profession.

Then a quizzical expression crossed Ung’s upturned face, and he said in a loud, proud voice, Am I sitting here, under the Sun? he said.

Yes, I said. That is the question. This confused them slightly, because they thought Ung already had the answer, but he looked triumphant. He guffawed to himself and sat looking at me intently. He was now my star-pupil, and I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry for the fun of it.

So that is the question for you to consider now, I said. I don’t think you will find the answer today but perhaps you will over many meetings, many meetings and maybe even the meetings of your sons.

And with that I quickly left the scene. I didn’t really think much more of it, you see, I told the audience. It was just intended to defuse the situation."

But it may have been the turning point Mr As-qinov – the point at which Humankind became conscious.

‘Fuckit!’ I thought, and wagged my antenna a little bit to give the impression I felt confused. I knew now exactly what I had done, and as far as they were concerned, the only thing left to do was sentence me.

So now it is night, and here I sit, talking to you. And soon they will start to ask a bigger question. If As-qinov went back in time to the earliest civilisation and changed when the dudes will reach the Check-point Charlie thingumyjig – which was built by nobody-knows-who, then who created the consciousness that eventually led to Mr As-qinov? And that’s why when they check my cell again in the morning they will find me gone.

***

Read more science fiction in The Jesus Monster, right after this Urdu translation of Inchoate.

The Jesus Monster

Copyright © 2013 by Lazlo Ferran

All Rights Reserved

Author’s Note: This story was written live on twitter over a weekend. I have now reedited it.

I first saw the Saint beneath the two road signs just outside Kintore settlement: Darwin 1180 Miles; Adelaide 1182 Miles. When the white-haired stranger grabbed ma wrist, painful tight, demanding water, I knew it had finally found us. The stranger had that madness, like we seen on the news, before the news stopped.

But then his eyes cleared. He seemed to see me for the first time. Fire! he demanded. I need fire!

Are you crazy old man ay? Look like you need water, not fire.

I shoulda left him to die, but I couldn’t.

I took him in me arms, he weighed almost nothing, like a paper doll, and I carried him back to the settlement.

While I carried him, he wept, Too late! Too late!

The brothas told me to, Put him down!

But when they saw his face, they went strange, quiet, and let me carry him to the infirmary, once Winkiku Restaurant. After he had drunk almost a gallon of water, slept for a day, ate a full shoulder of goat and shaved off his white beard, he was desperate to tell us his story. The whole mob gathered that night around the single, fly-battered blue light, pulsating unevenly while somebody rode the bike to power the generator. We wore cotton masks over our noses and mouths, hoping this would save us from the bug, but nobody questioned why I brought him back. We all wanted to understand what had happened to the World. Gemima, a little sista, tried to touch his hair, so unlike our own fuzzy black hair.

I should have died … . He shook his head and licked his still-parched lips. "But I’m grateful now … . It’s given me the chance… to help you! I know how to kill it!"

The bug? asked Gemima. She coyly sucked her index finger.

He smiled. "You might be the last people alive on Earth. You have to listen to what I say. It’s your only chance!"

"Where did you come from, mister? Adelaide ay?" asked one of the young gang of brothas, the last we had allowed into Kintore. Since then we had turned away, or shot, any brothas or gubbas. It was the only way. But something about this gubba was different.

No. I came … from the sky. I was flying … looking for you. We crashed. I was so thirsty, and the sun … . It blinded me!

Common enough, alright! said Jim Dunne, spitting on the red earth to emphasise his wisdom. He was a whitey too.

What’s the bug like? What it do ay? I asked him.

His face contorted in remembered pain. It’s terrible! Terrible. At first, though, it’s sweet. It comes through the air. All you want to do is good … . I'm a priest. I've seen terrible things. I’ve seen men cut their throats, just so a child could eat bread! It feeds on altruistic thought … .

What’s ‘altruist?’ Gemima started to ask, but her mother quietened her with a shake of her tiny shoulder.

"You eat less and drink less, but you don’t notice. The sweet bliss of becoming a Saint is intoxicating. It’s a pleasure I can’t describe. But I saw a programme on TV … . I knew it was false. The neurons associated with higher thinking and sacrifice make it fertile, and it lays its eggs inside your brain. But then it needs the body to sustain its young, so you finally want to die! Ed and I were the last ones left … . We crashed. Knew I was infected … Looked after Ed until I became delirious. That’s when I had a vision. Suddenly, I knew how to survive. The bug wants us all to be Saints. Oh God!"

The stranger was gasping for breath.

But there’s a way to fight it … . he continued. It can’t stand bad thoughts and Evil. I believe I had my vision, because God wants us, his children, to survive. So I did a terrible thing!

What? I asked. But me voice was drowned out by screams outside the tent.

Jimmi! Jimmi! Ol’ Martha was screaming.

The rest of the crowd quickly followed Mr Sissons out of the tent. He had once been a Missionary. He was always drinking the whiskey now, but he was still white. We didn’t have a mayor, but we looked up to him as our leader. I didn’t want to follow.

A hand grabbed me wrist. It was horrible tight. I looked, and it was the stranger.

‘Oh no! Not again,’ I thought.

You must leave! Just go! Any place!

I pulled me arm free. But I can’t! I have a sister!

It doesn’t matter. She probably has it already, the