Aida

By Sachareous Mark Schayne

Meet our new hero Zonn! With his extraterrestrial girlfriend Lida and their intelligent spaceship Peev (which is also an excellent bartender), he is travelling the galaxies - and usually solving apparently unsolvable problems. This time, he has to manage both politically correct Swedes and Devils from the planet Hell in order to save the world as we know it. And how does he do it? Usually with his intuition, intelligence and sense of humour only - and the skills from his early days on Earth - which was around our time. Not bad for one living 120 000 years in the future...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kringstad Geir
• Release date: Dec 6, 2016
• ISBN: 9789198379303

Book preview

Aida

Aida

Zachareous Mark Schayne

Copyright 2016 Zachareous Mark Schayne

All Rights Reserved, here, there and everywhere, forever and ever, no limitations

First Edition (In this galaxy)

ISBN 978-91-983793-0-3 (EPub version)

Disclaimer: This may – or may not – take place around 120 000 years from now and further on - towards the year 600 000, at the very least. In other words, it hasn’t happened yet. As far as you know, Earthlings, it may not even happen, either. It should therefore be considered a work of fiction, at least until proven otherwise. So, here we go: Based on this information, any idiot should be able to understand that names, characters, places and incidents must necessarily be the products of the author’s imaginations delusions, illusions and/or hallucinations, and are used fictitiously. No, that is not a pornographic word. If you don’t believe it, look it up in a dictionary. Any resemblance to actual life-forms; humans, humanoids, animals or extra-terrestrials, living or dead or not yet born, as well as businesses, companies, events or locales is sooooo coincidental.

Even in spite of this information, there may be those that want to extract Earth money or similar valuables through some sleazy legal actions. Oh, we have a cat named Terry too, that must be worth at least a million bucks and five years of free cat food. Right. But this is about stuff in the future. Future, got it? So zleasos are therefore referred to the court of Dgfr’Wrr-Gnn’ee, Zone 243534 of the Bweff Galaxy; somewhere around the year 573 912. And, by the way, not before lunchtime. Don’t forget to bring the cat.

Other information, related to one’s health and well-being: Those allergic to the word fuck should not make any attempts to read any of these books without first consulting a physician or a registered therapist. Do not try to make Morlodian gel at home without the assistance of an experienced and trained individual; using it for century-long hibernation should only be attempted under proper professional supervision. Any ambulatory activities using cardboard boxes, Swedish or other, is done at your own risk - use protective padding if you have frontal cartilage horns, or dislocations may be experienced. Life-forms with hoofs should avoid Nordic winter sports. Be kind to small furry animals, or the Intergalactic Task Force may want to have a word with you, and they aren’t always that nice. Bwah.

Foreword

No, morons, it is not spelled forward.

These works, the 24-volume compilation Legends of Zonn and Lida, have been translated from the hypertelepath memoirs of Zonn Zonnson-san. As even the dimmest of you could have guessed, the author is the son of Zonn (and Aida, who else – do you think they just sit in the tub with Morlodian gel all the time?), and these memoirs were (or, more correctly, will be) completed around 380 000 years after the adventures described in this first volume – or about half a million years in the future, from where you are now in the universal timeline, that is. And we are doing just great here. Eat your heart out, Sci-Fi buffs.

Please note that, as these memoirs are translated from what is called general inter-human/humanoid Wag-Zxill hypermetasyntax into Pre-Civ Earth English, one (that is, you, probably, or some annoying acquaintance of yours with a miserable emotional life and innumerable mental dysfunctions) may observe the occasional linguistic errors. For this, we offer no apologies or explanations, simply because we do not care: Who would worry about somebody’s thoughts or feelings from half a million years ago? Not we. Pah. As Zonn would have said; "fuck." Lida would have added, Go find a lake and drown yourselves, pedantic dogmatist eggheads.

So, how do we know that these works are in your possession, back in time? Simply because we, through the Aida installation, know everything. We also know that it was the smart-ass Dril-Grd who accidentally left these copies here during one of his time travels. Usually, such contamination and influence from the future would be strictly forbidden, and the aforementioned Dril-Grd (a Szmirxn, by the way, they love pranks and practical jokes. Irritating species.), would have been kicked back to his own time and never allowed to return. However, a causal-consequence analysis showed that 1) this planet would not make it to a civilized stage, regardless of any – any - input, efforts or undertaking from intelligent sources, externally or otherwise and 2) nobody would believe a word of what’s written here anyway. So there you are. Enjoy the reading, losers. It won’t help you much; we already know that much.

In addition, Dril-Grd (more about him in volume 6) sends his greetings and would also like to mention that your coffee sucks, but the beer was reasonably decent.

Who we are? And who is the mysterious Mr. Schayne? You will have to wait until volume 24 to find out. And remember: Collect all volumes, and you may be eligible to enter the contest where you can win your very own Peev! (Void where prohibited. Must be at least 18 000 years of age.)

These works are available with instant translation to Aida-connected individuals in every part of the Pyaragabole. In some galaxies, It is also possible to obtain copies in New Multilevel HypnoSense™.

Zonn

And then he woke up.

But where? At least he was not in a clinic, a hospital or any kind of treatment center, that much he realized. At least not a human one. Anywhere in the known universes, of all the places he had been, they had always looked and felt – well, medical. There was a certain atmosphere there, with some kind of nervous energy, and, strangely enough, also a certain recognizable smell. Not only the smell he could remember from his earliest years, of medicines, antibacterial soap, alcohol and cleaners, but also from later in his life, when all such things were outdated and had been replaced with what was so much more advanced – energetic, sub–particle, genetic – neuroplastic, and all that. But there still used to be a smell. There was always a smell. Sometimes just very subtle and almost – what was the word, intangible? Imperceptible? Indiscernible? Well, in-something. If nothing else, so from the energy labs – or maybe from the patients themselves, from the dysfunctions and the disease processes, perhaps from pain, even if that was quite uncommon nowadays, from emotions or even from mental patterns, stress reactions and frustration. He knew that some animals could smell disease, and, in fact, so could he.

Here, there was nothing such. Not at all. Also, there were no medical specialists or technicians, human or AI, or any kind of equipment for that matter, nothing to be seen or heard – or felt. But still he knew that something had happened. That had influenced him. Done something to him. Changed him, perhaps. He just didn’t know what.

Amazing, how he could remember such details. Or how this popped up in his mind. Because, he realized, otherwise, his mind was almost totally blank.

Nothing there.

He looked around. A large room, with walls - or at least something that looked like walls – that appeared to be more like semisolid fields: Waves. Patterns. Colors. Rhythmic pulsations. But nothing else. No furniture. No doors, no windows. Except one. He could see straight through what was probably an outer wall, and out into space.

And he had never seen anything like it.

There were suns everywhere.

Millions. There had to be millions of them.

It was impossible.

But still…

He saw what he saw. Or did he?

If he could trust his senses, there was no doubt: This could not be real. It was impossible.

Again, millions and millions of suns. Moving in the most intricate patterns. And, not only that: In an otherwise empty space.

There was – nothing else there.

But he had other things to consider.

Again, priority number one: He had to find out where he was. On a spaceship? A space station? Definitely not on a large planet, the rotation and movement was quite observable from where he was lying. One of the smaller artificial techworlds maybe? Not impossible. At quite a distance from Earth, that much he understood. But, at the same time, he had a distinct feeling that Earth was not only far away in distance, but in time.

What was going on? What the bloody hell was going on?

No, wait a minute. At least he was in his own bed. For some reason, at some level, he knew that. He didn’t know why, but he was absolutely certain. Without question. A huge, oval piece of furniture, about seven – what was the unit again – square liters? No, meters. Taking up about one – think, again – seventh? Yes, seventh! of the room, that had to be about fifty square…? whatever. Anyway, a reasonable large room. If only the walls could stand still and behave like, well, like walls.

Then again, piece of furniture was quite an understatement. In fact, his bed, as he knew it – at least he could remember that - was a state-of-the-art equipment, with all possible functions imaginable; energetic balancing at all conceivable levels, advanced waste removal capabilities, total physiological and neuropsychological monitoring, adjusting and rehabilitation – and whatever else was needed, heaven knows what it couldn’t do. A few minutes every Earth–week was enough, and he would be in perfect shape. Sleep was more or less a thing of the past. For some reason unknown to him, he could remember that too. Selective memory – or selective memory loss?

So he was at home. Probably. Wherever that was. He could not remember. Anything. Else.

But it was not the same bed that he was used to - at least, it looked different. Or, it was – kind of - enhanced? Now, there were several levels of something above the mattress itself. His bed, no matter how advanced it was, used to be solid. In fact, it looked just like any ordinary bed. Except for the special mattress – he just couldn’t remember what material it was made of. Anyway, field manipulations and restoration – that is what they called it - used to be performed through some advanced, subtle processes where no visible physical medium was ever necessary.

So on the outside, or on the surface, there was nothing fancy with his old bed. He could just fall asleep and would wake up perfectly balanced. And he had no idea how it worked. He didn’t care, either. Like all other machines and equipment that just did their job like they were supposed to. Impressive, but that’s the thing with advanced technology: It is indistinguishable from magic.

And again? How come he knew that?

Anyway. Now, however, he was floating on something that felt like a layer of dense, humid air – or gas? Or was it an energy field? Underneath there was something that looked like transparent gel, moving rhythmically in wavelike patterns.

He also noticed that he was surrounded by light. Small units of light. Sparkling, moving, changing in color and intensity. And it was everywhere; above him, below him, entering and passing through both the gel and the gaseous substance. He could recognize patterns, shapes, intensities, angles, shapes, variations in speed.

And the light was penetrating him. Amazing. Like fireflies dancing around him and through him. Light? Or some kind of energy. Or particles. He had no idea. Anything that could be carrying information, he assumed, it was most likely there for a purpose. But this too he had never experienced with old Creechee. Creechee? Where did that come from? Was it a name? It was his bed, but what…

He decided to leave that train of thought; there were more important things to consider. The analytical part of his brain was kicking in. Good. If he was at home, in his own bed, the situation was most likely under control. Apparently there was a rationale behind all this and he was in some kind of process. Fine. But why?

Then the units of light, or whatever they were, slowly faded, and he sank down through the layer of air into the gel. Nicely and gently.

Schtrainh, he thought. Or tried to think. Straich. Not much better. He suddenly realized that, although most parts of his nervous system were now apparently operating more or less normally, he was linguistically quite dysfunctional. Everything he experienced here, he could interpret and analyze, he could identify ideas and concepts, even images, certain memories and emotions, he could collect data and information, and apparently even come to conclusions, but it was difficult, if not totally impossible, to convert anything of this into language. All cognitive functions had apparently come back to him, but he was using these faculties – without words? Almost, at least. How was that possible?

Thought processes without words? But he was thinking. Or, thoughts were flowing through him, some kind of – well, mental abstract units that were understandable. He was thinking, but not in the way he was used to. But when he tried to form words in his mind, or even try to speak them out loud – and he had tried – it simply didn’t work. It was like trying to read anything through a wall of distorted glass, and trying to speak in a nightmare; nothing would come out. Except that this wasn’t a nightmare. It was simply as if language wasn’t necessary, or should be ignored, even avoided. Experience without limiting associations came into his mind.

Okay. So something had happened to his brain. His central nervous system. And he could have – no, he should have been scared to death, have panicked, had an anxiety attack. But he didn’t. To the contrary, he felt just fine. In fact, he felt just great. No stress reactions. Nothing at all which could give him a hint that something was wrong. Not at all. And for some reason he knew – or remembered, deep down in his system – that he usually could trust his instincts. He used to be able to sense danger at a distance and well before it even materialized, that much he knew. When something was wrong, his entire system would react – and intensely so. And there were absolutely no warning signals here, none whatsoever. Now, neuropsychological medicine had come a long way, but this had nothing to do with that. He was not under any kind of therapy or treatment, that much he understood. Not sedated, not medicated, not therapeutically manipulated in any way. And everything was just as it should be.

He decided to remain in the language–less state for a while. Or the state came to him, perhaps. Anyway, he remained in bed, looking at the millions of suns moving in intricate patterns outside. One hour. Two hours. More. He lost track of time, and went in and out of consciousness. Mental impulses came and went, with the mind going blank for extended periods of time, just like he remembered it from when he was practicing deep meditation. And the world was limited to what was inside him, his own mind, and it was just a wordless experience. His inner core was re–establishing itself. Sensory. Action. Reaction. Input. Output. Subconscious. Unconscious. Neuromusculoskeletal connections. Perception. Interpretations. Associations. Hierarchies. Defenses. Values. Beliefs. Quality. Intensity. Focus. Priorities. And that was only what was on the surface.

Then, suddenly, it was over. He was again fully awake. Now, it would probably be time to get up. Or was it?

Gegouuu? Agyogy geej? He sighed. Nobody geej. Theeej. Fuck. Hello. Anybody? There? Not at all, apparently. At least nobody that would answer. Well then, the only thing he could do was to get up and take a look around.

He tried to rise up. Then he realized that he could not. Something kept him from standing up. A force field? He could move around, but not get out of bed. He could not move to a standing position.

Not yet, soon, but not yet, flowed through his mind. Wait a minute.

Again: What the bloody hell was this? He was restrained! Then, suddenly, the gel began to retract. Within seconds, his body was brought down to a firmer surface. It felt like, and looked like, moss and soft grass. Very soft, very pleasant, but at the same time also very stimulating. Both the moss and the grass - which they were not, he understood, but that’s what they looked like - moved slowly and in circular patterns. Within seconds, he felt that he was becoming more functional.

In fact, he could begin to form words again. Not bad.

Gis is kwait inheresting. No, wait. Chis is quite ingthesting. Try again. This is in fact quite interesting. Fine. A little rusty, but at least those parts of his brain were in the process of waking up.

So, what now? Should he try and get up again? He raised the left leg. Then the other. Yes, this time there was no resistance, no force holding him back. He relaxed. Still, something inside him told him that it would be a good idea not to be in a hurry. Perhaps he should just give that process a few more minutes? Again, he decided to trust his intuition. Ai ill try to ork a jittle more on the chinking process.

Fuck. At least he could swear. That always helps. Although his vocabulary in that respect was also quite limited. Jhit. Khit, hit, thit. Nice try. Shit, dammit! One small word for copulation, another one for defecation and a useless curse, that was about all he could muster. Not very impressive. Might as well be a little more constructive. Slowly, now, with feeling: I will try to work a little more on je phli... Oh, well. Half a sentence wasn’t all that bad. After all, he was noticing some improvement.

Then he realized that the moss and the grass were all gone. He was now lying on something that looked like creamed cheese, but felt like an old – fashioned waterbed, only softer. He could feel a slight massaging effect on a few muscle groups, otherwise the cheese – like substance was passive. Still, extremely comfortable, but that was all.

He recognized it at once, in a flash. It was his bed, now he was absolutely certain, and it looked the way it used to be. So there you are! This was the bed that he was used to. Creechee, it was really you. Well, old pal, it looks as if somebody has provided you with certain enhancements. Now he remembered, and he was as happy as if having met an old lost friend. In fact, he used to call it Creechee. Creamed cheese. That was what the material which the mattress was made of looked like.

Still, the bed was not much for small talk and could not provide any further information at all. He had to find out himself.

Time to getttttt uppppp. Okay, so he could think again. Use words. A little, at least. Marvelous. Better be careful, though, when trying to move around. He considered it quite likely that he was being monitored by somebody and/or something, that would prevent him from getting hurt, but still. In his mind, he began to think of the possible consequences of rising too fast, with lousy motor control and coordination: Fainting, cramps and spasms, vomiting, dizziness, strains and sprains, locked joints and back pain, bruises and bleedings…

Wait. Wait! These things do not happen anymore. They are – or were – a thing of the past! Nowadays, they are always prevented. Yes, he was certain about that. And if something happened, it would be taken care of immediately. Or – he tried to speak - you will fix it for me during chleep, Khrichiii. Sleesh. Zleeeeep. Zhichii. Then he gave up, realizing that although his thinking had improved, his brain and tongue weren’t cooperating.

Hopefully for a reason, he concluded. For a reason. There has to be a meaning with all this. And I am going to find out.

Anyway, he thought to himself, let’s get those limbs moving. Let us see if there are any finer motor skills left in this body. If not, he decided the smartest thing would be to lie down, relax some more and let continue working on his system. He took a deep breath. Suddenly, he felt a burst of anxiety, or perhaps excitement, like an explorer going into the unknown. Even if the jungle to be explored was his own home. After all, this was the strangest… but it had to be done, time to jump into the water, regardless of temperature. Okay. Uppi duppi. One, two –

Then she entered the room. He didn’t even recognize that she had come straight through the wall. And he was absolutely, totally thunderstruck.

"Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!!! FUCK! His jaw dropped. His blood pressure dropped, his muscles went limp and his knees collapsed under him. Do not faint now." Were the last words that went through his mind. Before he fainted.

Lida

Or so he thought. Didn’t he faint? At least, he was back in an instant, or that’s how it seemed, at least. He was sitting on the bed, unharmed, feeling fine, just as before she had arrived. What had happened?

Hello, Zonn, she said. You are awake. Good. She touched him gently on the forehead. "Just relax, you are safe and everything is quite all right.