Showing posts with label playwright. Show all posts
Showing posts with label playwright. Show all posts
Saturday, May 13, 2023
Friday, May 12, 2023
Turning Points in History to Consider for Alt History
Stamford Bridge
Jugurthine War
Ferdinand and Isabella (make both women)
Alexander the Great (dies earlier)
Alexander the Great (dies later)
Alexander the Great (still alive)
Isaac Newton (discovers anti-gravity; leads to mechs)
Christopher Marlowe (wins bar fight, becomes emperor)
Pyramids (much bigger; aliens show up)
Jugurthine War
Ferdinand and Isabella (make both women)
Alexander the Great (dies earlier)
Alexander the Great (dies later)
Alexander the Great (still alive)
Isaac Newton (discovers anti-gravity; leads to mechs)
Christopher Marlowe (wins bar fight, becomes emperor)
Pyramids (much bigger; aliens show up)
Tuesday, June 21, 2022
Monday, November 29, 2021
But Who Invented Puppetry?
"I never had the chance to visit Altitharma Shrine before, so I decided this was the time. I walked the road for miles until it came to Hersa Bridge, which is where I am right now."
"Traveler, the story of the bridge is this, and I was there when all this happened, in those days when . . . when . . . Oh come on!" The puppeteer seized his creation and hurled it to the ground, then scurried over and checked for damage. "Don't break! I don't have time for you to break!"
"Trying to establish an image as a temperamental artist, huh?"
"Oh, uh, I, no, it's because . . ." Fargen straightened up when he realized Otor and Skjord had seen his embarrassing performance. "It's all the headman's fault anyway. He told me to perform 'The Apparition on Hersa Bridge' at the next festival. It has too many parts! I can't memorize all the lines, and actions, and touch up enough puppets beforehand."
"Sounds terrible. Almost as hard as real work." Skjord flexed his arms built by real work.
"Does the headman look over your shoulder while you're really working? It would be one thing if you were like the lumberjack character, who . . . wait." Fargen looked at Skjord, and Otor again, and then Skjord, then Otor.
"Yes?"
"What if . . . you two took the place of two of my puppets? Then I wouldn't have to learn as many parts."
"Huh?"
And that was how plays were invented. Good luck proving that story false.
Finis
"Traveler, the story of the bridge is this, and I was there when all this happened, in those days when . . . when . . . Oh come on!" The puppeteer seized his creation and hurled it to the ground, then scurried over and checked for damage. "Don't break! I don't have time for you to break!"
"Trying to establish an image as a temperamental artist, huh?"
"Oh, uh, I, no, it's because . . ." Fargen straightened up when he realized Otor and Skjord had seen his embarrassing performance. "It's all the headman's fault anyway. He told me to perform 'The Apparition on Hersa Bridge' at the next festival. It has too many parts! I can't memorize all the lines, and actions, and touch up enough puppets beforehand."
"Sounds terrible. Almost as hard as real work." Skjord flexed his arms built by real work.
"Does the headman look over your shoulder while you're really working? It would be one thing if you were like the lumberjack character, who . . . wait." Fargen looked at Skjord, and Otor again, and then Skjord, then Otor.
"Yes?"
"What if . . . you two took the place of two of my puppets? Then I wouldn't have to learn as many parts."
"Huh?"
And that was how plays were invented. Good luck proving that story false.
Finis
Saturday, November 13, 2021
A Note on Deus ex Machina
The reason the deus ex machina ending was derided in stagecraft was that you should have had the god show up earlier if you were going to have one. The lesson was not to avoid anything exciting ever happening.
Sunday, October 11, 2020
The Lunar Classic (Back Half)
The story so far
At last the lake shore presented itself and the travellers disembarked. The great plains before them extended beyond human vision, but there were no hippogriffs or seagulls dancing in the sky, nor were elephants or rabbits gallivanting across fields of cotton. Instead a tornado raged over the plains like a lion no one dares to approach, prowling where he likes and causing lesser animals to scatter in all directions.
"By the shaking earth! It's some sort of moon hurricane!" Gerald was awestruck.
"There are tornadoes on Earth, you know. Ah, never mind," Varney said. "Anyway, it's a shame the giants let another one get out. You can't pass through until they recover it. Cut left here and you can make it to the Lunar Classic before they run out of balloons."
"Where are the giants?"
"They live on Cloud Peak, of course. You can see it over to the right. No human would dare go there. The steps to the top are too big, for one thing." Varney's words were striking Gerald's back. "Don't fishermen know anything? All right, fine." The pair proceeded to the single mountain rising out of the sprawling plain.
A long flight of steps was carved out of the very mountain. The steps were indeed deeper than any humans used. Gerald had to raise his knees almost to his waist to clear them. "This is a little tiring, but I was expecting worse," he said.
"Hrrrrrwwew," Varney said.
"You seem to be having a little trouble."
"Playwrights." Varney cleared another step. "Don't get much." One more. "Exercise as a rule."
They climbed for hours and then for hours more. At last they neared the summit and saw the workshop of the cloud giants. Rain and snow were being stuffed into cotton clumps and formed into shapes, lightning bugs were having their milk poured into long, branching molds, and winds spun from potter's wheels were stored in huge sacks.
"I'm a little hesitant," Gerald said. "They're so giant."
"You should have acclimated yourself to that fact on your way up those huge steps," Varney said. "I won't blame you if you turn back now, though."
"Hey! You!" a voice roared.
"Never mind," said Varney.
A giant strode toward the pair. "Sorry guys! Usually we have tours going on, but everybody's putting the old nose to the grinder so we can get everything done before the Lunar Classic ends! Hope you understand!"
"Oh, that's too bad," Gerald said. "I wanted to see how you deal with moon hurricanes."
"Huh! I've never heard of a moon hurricane, and I've been the foreman here for centuries!"
"He means a tornado. It looks like one got free while you were working so feverishly," Varney said.
"Whoops! That's too bad! No time to deal with it now, though!"
"You know, the tornado is on the way to the Serene Plains," Varney said.
"On second thought, I'd better take care of it right away!" the foreman said.
"You'll need some help for this job!" another giant said
"I hate to leave things here, but I'd better go too!" chimed in another. Soon enough, the entire peak was divested of giants.
Gerald and Varney descended, fully expecting the tornado to be gone by the time they reached the plain.
"It's still there, Mr. Varney."
"So it seems."
"They went to watch the championship, didn't they?"
"Yes."
"I guess we can just follow their footprints."
"That's the way. We'll be eating cotton candy in no time."
The giant tracks led over hill and crater past grazing gray giraffes and cotton tree branches waving in the wind. The ground between the plains was uneven, but a relief compared to the hardships of Cloud Peak. Finally Gerald and Varney reached the Serene Plains, which were festooned with tents and booths and tables and stalls, banners and pennants and big pointing fingers. Around the playing field itself were rows and rows of stands where even rabbits and foxes sat cheek by jowl, to say nothing of the other lunar denizens.
"It seems very festive," Gerald said.
"Naturally. The contest between the Silvers and Grays has been going on for three days now. The score is 0-0, the most thrilling score of all. Excitement is at its peak. The coaches are wracking their tiny brains to claim some advantage. In fact, there's the Silver coach right over there." Varney pointed out a beaver wearing a silver cap belonging to the Silvers. "How's it going, Spurius?"
"Criminy! A human!" The beaver's nose twitched. "How would you fellas like to be athletes?"
"Oh, I couldn't possibly," Varney said. "I'm a playwright. My friend here will be glad to win the championship for you if you get us two bicycles afterwards, though."
"I will?"
"You will. What do you have to say about that, Spurius?"
"You're a real shrewd negotiator. It's a deal." He held out his tiny hand for Varney to shake. Gerald was not invited.
"I don't even know the rules," Gerald said, picking at his hurriedly resized Silver jersey.
"Here's how you play: Take the ball, run with the ball to the other side, and don't drop the ball," Varney explained.
"That seems too simple."
"This is a sport for rodents. What do you expect? Now get out there and win one for your village. I don't know your village's name, so I'll make one up. Placidshore."
"That's nicer than its real name."
"If you succeed, maybe they'll let you change it. So get out there and hustle."
"Yeah!"
The 478th Lunar Classic was one to remember. Two evenly matched teams struggled for days until a last-minute roster change broke the game wide open. Silver's new star athlete proved all but impossible to tackle despite the best efforts of Gray's league-leading defense. His speed was unmatchable since he could hold the ball in limbs dedicated to the purpose, leaving his legs free to run at full tilt. Worst of all, he was unfazed by the hitherto unbeatable technique that had brought both teams to the championship and kept the score to 0-0: Tossing around nuts and shiny objects to distract the players. In the end, the Silvers took the trophy 35-0.
"That was a great job you did out there, great hustle," Spurius said. "What would it take to sign you for next season?"
"Uh, well, I won't be on the moon that long, I hope," Gerald said.
"That's a real shame. I've got your bicycles right here, and look me up if you ever change your mind. Don't talk to the Grays, they're no good."
"I'll remember that. Goodbye, coach."
"Yes, goodbye, Spurius," Varney said.
"Oh, Mr. Varney. Where have you been?" Gerald asked.
"Collecting my winnings, of course. The palace is that way."
Off they rode toward the conclusion of Gerald's mission.
The Serene Plains went on for a good distance but at last gave way to low hills and shallow craters. Gerald and Varney rode among them until Varney indicated a crater of interest.
Indeed, at the bottom of the crater was a palace that matched the stories Gerald heard, with scenes of gods, nymphs, and dolphins carved into its walls and gardens of coral surrounding it.
"I can't believe I made it," Gerald said. "But shouldn't there be servants and courtiers around? It seems deserted."
"Be reasonable. The palace isn't underwater. Are you trying to kill the staff just so you have someone to announce you?"
"Oh no, not at all. I'm very sorry. I'll just let myself in." As Gerald was opening the door, however, he stopped. "Wait, then how is there coral here?"
"It's artificial coral made for decorative purposes. Now go in," Varney pushed Gerald inside. The rooms were decorated with statues and paintings that depicted not only objects of maritime interest but also cities, forests, fields, and even strange landscapes such as Gerald had never seen before. He had little time to marvel, however, because Varney kept prodding him through the palace until they reached a room strewn with gold, silver, gems, vases, plates, coins, and knicknacks.
Varney tossed a clinking bag on the floor. "All right, now let's see what I can do for you," he said as he reached into a pile. He pulled out a small fish carved from gold and held it out to Gerald. "This will attract fish. Simply drop it in the sea where your village fishes."
"I can't just take the god's treasure while he's not around. There are so many stories about that kind of thing. And how do you know what it does anyway, Mr. Varney?"
"Stop trying to embarrass fishermen everywhere, Gerald. I am the god of the sea, and I am granting your request because you won me so much money at the Lunar Classic. My gratitude is tempered by the trouble I had getting you there in the first place, but that's water under the bridge."
"Really? Thank you, uh, Your Holiness. Hey, why didn't you just win the game by yourself?"
"That would be cheating. There's no cheating on the moon."
"That makes sense," Gerald said. "It's a shame, though. I was going to try to see one of Mr. Varney's plays when I got back."
"When did I say I wasn't Varney, the universally acclaimed playwright? You should definitely watch all my plays. After all that culture and sophistication, you'll feel like a whole new man. In any case, it's time for you to go home." Varney grabbed Gerald's shirt and lifted him up in the air with one hand. He carried the fisherman outside and pointed out a blue and green orb in the sky. "Take a good look," he said before rearing back and flinging Gerald into the star-studded sky. "And have a nice trip!" he shouted at the rapidly retreating fisherman.
"So we just have to drop this fish in the water," Gerald explained. "Also he said Placidshore would be a good name for the village."
"That all sounds fine," the chief said. "We were going to name it Geraldtown, but none of us really wanted to. We must thank the god for this blessing as well."
"Darn," Gerald said.
The End
At last the lake shore presented itself and the travellers disembarked. The great plains before them extended beyond human vision, but there were no hippogriffs or seagulls dancing in the sky, nor were elephants or rabbits gallivanting across fields of cotton. Instead a tornado raged over the plains like a lion no one dares to approach, prowling where he likes and causing lesser animals to scatter in all directions.
"By the shaking earth! It's some sort of moon hurricane!" Gerald was awestruck.
"There are tornadoes on Earth, you know. Ah, never mind," Varney said. "Anyway, it's a shame the giants let another one get out. You can't pass through until they recover it. Cut left here and you can make it to the Lunar Classic before they run out of balloons."
"Where are the giants?"
"They live on Cloud Peak, of course. You can see it over to the right. No human would dare go there. The steps to the top are too big, for one thing." Varney's words were striking Gerald's back. "Don't fishermen know anything? All right, fine." The pair proceeded to the single mountain rising out of the sprawling plain.
A long flight of steps was carved out of the very mountain. The steps were indeed deeper than any humans used. Gerald had to raise his knees almost to his waist to clear them. "This is a little tiring, but I was expecting worse," he said.
"Hrrrrrwwew," Varney said.
"You seem to be having a little trouble."
"Playwrights." Varney cleared another step. "Don't get much." One more. "Exercise as a rule."
They climbed for hours and then for hours more. At last they neared the summit and saw the workshop of the cloud giants. Rain and snow were being stuffed into cotton clumps and formed into shapes, lightning bugs were having their milk poured into long, branching molds, and winds spun from potter's wheels were stored in huge sacks.
"I'm a little hesitant," Gerald said. "They're so giant."
"You should have acclimated yourself to that fact on your way up those huge steps," Varney said. "I won't blame you if you turn back now, though."
"Hey! You!" a voice roared.
"Never mind," said Varney.
A giant strode toward the pair. "Sorry guys! Usually we have tours going on, but everybody's putting the old nose to the grinder so we can get everything done before the Lunar Classic ends! Hope you understand!"
"Oh, that's too bad," Gerald said. "I wanted to see how you deal with moon hurricanes."
"Huh! I've never heard of a moon hurricane, and I've been the foreman here for centuries!"
"He means a tornado. It looks like one got free while you were working so feverishly," Varney said.
"Whoops! That's too bad! No time to deal with it now, though!"
"You know, the tornado is on the way to the Serene Plains," Varney said.
"On second thought, I'd better take care of it right away!" the foreman said.
"You'll need some help for this job!" another giant said
"I hate to leave things here, but I'd better go too!" chimed in another. Soon enough, the entire peak was divested of giants.
Gerald and Varney descended, fully expecting the tornado to be gone by the time they reached the plain.
"It's still there, Mr. Varney."
"So it seems."
"They went to watch the championship, didn't they?"
"Yes."
"I guess we can just follow their footprints."
"That's the way. We'll be eating cotton candy in no time."
The giant tracks led over hill and crater past grazing gray giraffes and cotton tree branches waving in the wind. The ground between the plains was uneven, but a relief compared to the hardships of Cloud Peak. Finally Gerald and Varney reached the Serene Plains, which were festooned with tents and booths and tables and stalls, banners and pennants and big pointing fingers. Around the playing field itself were rows and rows of stands where even rabbits and foxes sat cheek by jowl, to say nothing of the other lunar denizens.
"It seems very festive," Gerald said.
"Naturally. The contest between the Silvers and Grays has been going on for three days now. The score is 0-0, the most thrilling score of all. Excitement is at its peak. The coaches are wracking their tiny brains to claim some advantage. In fact, there's the Silver coach right over there." Varney pointed out a beaver wearing a silver cap belonging to the Silvers. "How's it going, Spurius?"
"Criminy! A human!" The beaver's nose twitched. "How would you fellas like to be athletes?"
"Oh, I couldn't possibly," Varney said. "I'm a playwright. My friend here will be glad to win the championship for you if you get us two bicycles afterwards, though."
"I will?"
"You will. What do you have to say about that, Spurius?"
"You're a real shrewd negotiator. It's a deal." He held out his tiny hand for Varney to shake. Gerald was not invited.
"I don't even know the rules," Gerald said, picking at his hurriedly resized Silver jersey.
"Here's how you play: Take the ball, run with the ball to the other side, and don't drop the ball," Varney explained.
"That seems too simple."
"This is a sport for rodents. What do you expect? Now get out there and win one for your village. I don't know your village's name, so I'll make one up. Placidshore."
"That's nicer than its real name."
"If you succeed, maybe they'll let you change it. So get out there and hustle."
"Yeah!"
The 478th Lunar Classic was one to remember. Two evenly matched teams struggled for days until a last-minute roster change broke the game wide open. Silver's new star athlete proved all but impossible to tackle despite the best efforts of Gray's league-leading defense. His speed was unmatchable since he could hold the ball in limbs dedicated to the purpose, leaving his legs free to run at full tilt. Worst of all, he was unfazed by the hitherto unbeatable technique that had brought both teams to the championship and kept the score to 0-0: Tossing around nuts and shiny objects to distract the players. In the end, the Silvers took the trophy 35-0.
"That was a great job you did out there, great hustle," Spurius said. "What would it take to sign you for next season?"
"Uh, well, I won't be on the moon that long, I hope," Gerald said.
"That's a real shame. I've got your bicycles right here, and look me up if you ever change your mind. Don't talk to the Grays, they're no good."
"I'll remember that. Goodbye, coach."
"Yes, goodbye, Spurius," Varney said.
"Oh, Mr. Varney. Where have you been?" Gerald asked.
"Collecting my winnings, of course. The palace is that way."
Off they rode toward the conclusion of Gerald's mission.
The Serene Plains went on for a good distance but at last gave way to low hills and shallow craters. Gerald and Varney rode among them until Varney indicated a crater of interest.
Indeed, at the bottom of the crater was a palace that matched the stories Gerald heard, with scenes of gods, nymphs, and dolphins carved into its walls and gardens of coral surrounding it.
"I can't believe I made it," Gerald said. "But shouldn't there be servants and courtiers around? It seems deserted."
"Be reasonable. The palace isn't underwater. Are you trying to kill the staff just so you have someone to announce you?"
"Oh no, not at all. I'm very sorry. I'll just let myself in." As Gerald was opening the door, however, he stopped. "Wait, then how is there coral here?"
"It's artificial coral made for decorative purposes. Now go in," Varney pushed Gerald inside. The rooms were decorated with statues and paintings that depicted not only objects of maritime interest but also cities, forests, fields, and even strange landscapes such as Gerald had never seen before. He had little time to marvel, however, because Varney kept prodding him through the palace until they reached a room strewn with gold, silver, gems, vases, plates, coins, and knicknacks.
Varney tossed a clinking bag on the floor. "All right, now let's see what I can do for you," he said as he reached into a pile. He pulled out a small fish carved from gold and held it out to Gerald. "This will attract fish. Simply drop it in the sea where your village fishes."
"I can't just take the god's treasure while he's not around. There are so many stories about that kind of thing. And how do you know what it does anyway, Mr. Varney?"
"Stop trying to embarrass fishermen everywhere, Gerald. I am the god of the sea, and I am granting your request because you won me so much money at the Lunar Classic. My gratitude is tempered by the trouble I had getting you there in the first place, but that's water under the bridge."
"Really? Thank you, uh, Your Holiness. Hey, why didn't you just win the game by yourself?"
"That would be cheating. There's no cheating on the moon."
"That makes sense," Gerald said. "It's a shame, though. I was going to try to see one of Mr. Varney's plays when I got back."
"When did I say I wasn't Varney, the universally acclaimed playwright? You should definitely watch all my plays. After all that culture and sophistication, you'll feel like a whole new man. In any case, it's time for you to go home." Varney grabbed Gerald's shirt and lifted him up in the air with one hand. He carried the fisherman outside and pointed out a blue and green orb in the sky. "Take a good look," he said before rearing back and flinging Gerald into the star-studded sky. "And have a nice trip!" he shouted at the rapidly retreating fisherman.
"So we just have to drop this fish in the water," Gerald explained. "Also he said Placidshore would be a good name for the village."
"That all sounds fine," the chief said. "We were going to name it Geraldtown, but none of us really wanted to. We must thank the god for this blessing as well."
"Darn," Gerald said.
The End
Sunday, October 4, 2020
The Lunar Classic (Front Half)
The night sky was aglow with the luster of the full moon, and the waters below held their own brilliant reflection of the nocturnal sovereign. The assembled villagers could imagine no better time to accomplish their purpose. "Our prayers have had no effect," the village chief said. "We must petition the god directly. Are you ready, nephew?"
"No," Gerald said.
"Don't talk like that. I know it's a long journey, but we'll get you as close as we can. Men!"
The villagers hoisted up Gerald, ran to the edge of the cliff, and tossed him as far as they could. They tried to watch his progress until they heard a splash. Wishing Gerald good luck on his mission, they returned to the village.
Down below, Gerald was struck senseless for a moment when he hit the water, but instinct kicked in and he started swimming for his life. Disoriented, he saw no guide but a bright round light, and as he swam it grew bigger and bigger . . .
Gerald woke up and looked around. Fields of cotton dotted by cotton trees stretched as far as he could see. Thick herds of rabbits hopped across rises and dips pursued by arctic foxes with javelins, while hippogriffs with gray plumage sported in the starry sky. The elephants were also gray.
Nowhere did he see anything that could be mistaken for any kind of sea god's palace nor any sign or guidepost indicating which way it could be. Even the stars looked strange. With no better ideas, he started walking the direction he happened to be facing when he stood up.
In time he crested a ridge and saw a paved stone road, which he eagerly intercepted and followed. His spirits were high owing to his good fortune and rose higher when he saw, sitting on a rock beside the road, a person.
"Excuse me, sir," he called out.
The man slid off the rock onto the road. "Is that the rarity of rarities here on the moon, a human? I'm pleased to meet you. Who might you be? I would introduce myself, but obviously there's no need."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Well, I'm Varney the renowned playwright," he said. In response to Gerald's blank look, he elaborated. "I write plays. For theaters. People watch them."
"I get that, but I'm sorry to say I haven't heard of you. We don't have a theater in my village."
"That's a shame."
"If you don't mind me asking, what's a celebrated playwright doing here?"
"This is the moon. All playwrights end up here eventually. Are you a playwright or just a poet?"
"Ah, no, I'm just Gerald, a fisherman." In response to Varney's blank look, Gerald elaborated. "I catch fish. In the sea."
"I understand that very well. As a matter of fact, I have eaten fish before. But there are no fish in the Lunar Sea. You'd better go home."
"I'm not here to fish. The village hasn't been doing so well, you see, and they sent me to ask the sea god if he would make our waters more populated. I can't go home until I've seen him." Gerald shook his head. "I don't really know if I can go home after, but it is what it is."
"That's a terrible story. I don't mean that sympathetically. Well, good luck. The sea god's palace is quite far away."
"You know where it is? Could you please tell me? I'm completely lost."
"Anything for a human. Now if you look in this direction, do you see where the road forks?"
"I do."
"Both roads lead to the palace. If you take the left path, you will pass through the pleasant and road-crossed Serene Plains, where at this very moment crowds are gathering for the moon's biggest sporting event, the Lunar Classic. The championship will be decided soon. They have music and puppet shows, not to mention betting has reached extravagant levels. You can buy souvenirs for your village and try the cotton candy."
"You can make candy out of cotton?"
"No, it only looks like cotton. It's a lunar specialty. So of course you want to go that way. The other path leads to the Lunar Sea, past which are broad and vasty plains unknown to infrastructure which you must cross to reach the palace."
"Oh, that sounds much faster. I'll go that way. Thank you for telling me."
Gerald started walking, but Varney put himself in his way. "Wait just a moment. I don't recommend the Lunar Sea at all. It's a bad route to take."
"How so?"
"Well, it's a big sea. You need a boat or raft to cross it. And it's dangerous. You'll be in trouble if you drink from it."
"Pardon me for saying so, and maybe playwrights don't know this, but that sounds like how seas usually are."
"Fine then, take that road. I'll come along so I can see your face when you realize the mistake you've made."
"Really? I sure appreciate it, Mr. Varney."
The road wandered by rows of cotton lavender until it met with a wide, sluggish river and adopted a parallel course. "This is the Millennium River," Varney said. "Within its banks flows not water, but nectar."
"That's good. I'm pretty thirsty."
"Don't drink nectar. Also, if you really think about it, you'll find you aren't hungry or thirsty at all."
"What are you talking about?" Gerald thought it over. "Wait, you're right."
"Nobody's thirsty on the moon, and only the foxes seem to be hungry. Let's keep going." So saying, they continued down the road.
Gerald and Varney reached a stretch of the river where a system of channels diverted the river into dozens of small pools. Around the pools, clusters of squirrels, beavers, and raccoons wearing smocks were washing small, shiny objects in the nectar and placing them in baskets.
Gerald tried to take in the scene."What's going on? What are those sparkling things?"
"Oh, those are souls. They come out of the dead on Earth, tumble into the sea, and rain down on the Pompous Mountains upstream. Then they're carried down the river to this place. They'd go all the way to the sea if the waterworks didn't divert them."
"What are the animals doing to them?"
"The souls that arrive here are covered in so much gunk and grime you would hardly believe it. Their sins, their virtues, their hopes and deeds, fame and infamy . . . people accumulate a great mass of it all during their lives. Obviously that all has to be washed off before the souls can be used again. Once they're clean, the workers set them aside for the seagulls to pick up and distribute on Earth."
"Why seagulls?"
"They can glide all the way to Earth without flapping once."
"Ah, I see. That's efficiency."
"Some rare souls have gained such a dense shell of deeds they sink right to the bottom and roll slowly along the river floor. After hundreds of years they reach the Lunar Sea, and after centuries more enough of the cruft comes off that they rise to the top of the water and then keep going right into the sky, where they become stars."
"So that's why they say the sky is the field of heroes?"
"Exactly. That's from one of my plays, by the way."
"I never knew. Do you think we could borrow a raft or boat?"
"That's easy enough to find out. Hey, is Wulfgar around?"
The animals ceased their fussy little movements and looked at the travelers. One of the squirrels came up to them. "What do you want, Varney?"
"Nothing at all. My friend Gerald here, however, wishes to cross the Lunar Sea."
"Why? The big game's the other way."
"Regrettably, he has a job to do that takes him away from the Serene Plains, much like yours keeps you here."
"Poor guy. Sure, you can use the raft. Nobody here's going to need it anytime soon, and the beavers can make another if they want."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Wulfgar," Gerald said.
"Don't mention it."
Gerald and Varney made their way through the facilities and found a simple wooden raft pulled up on the bank.
"Do you know how to use this kind of thing?" Varney asked.
Gerald shoved the raft and hopped on. "Of course."
Varney joined Gerald on the raft, and down the river they went. "This really isn't water," Gerald remarked. "It's so thick I'm having trouble working the pole."
"That is one of its distinct properties. Nectar replaces water entirely in the body, sustaining the internal organs with a minimum of motion. That contributes to that length of life which is characteristic of the highest creatures."
"Then why did you say it was bad to drink it?"
"First, the nectar will cleanse your insides through its spiritually abrasive properties. Humans are mostly bad, so you're likely to have vital parts scrubbed away. Just surviving that part is a matter of luck. Second, while nectar replaces water, the opposite is not true. You will be forced to stay near this river and sea for the rest of your elongated life."
"I was going to spend my whole life by the sea anyway."
"You will perceive also there are no fish in the nectar."
"By the trident! I didn't think about that. Is it safe for other creatures, though?"
"Not at all. Why, you can see right there the hippopotamuses are wearing snorkels."
"Oh, you're right. Are they as bad as humans?"
"You've never met a hippopotamus, have you? They're easily thirty percent worse."
The raft floated down the river all the way to the Lunar Sea. The nectar spread out over a such a great width that Gerald and Varney could barely see the shore on either side.
"It's more of a lake than a sea," Gerald said.
"Yes. I think they were trying for a pun, but I disagree with it."
"Which way should I go?"
"You should go to the left bank and get off this lake as fast as possible, but the palace is past the far side."
"All right, thanks."
Gerald poled the raft along while seagulls drifted above his head. Wisps of cotton blew in the mild winds above the lake. The stars shining above seemed brighter than they ever did on Earth since there was no sun or moon to rival them.
"Hey, Mr. Varney?"
"Hm?"
"Why do the stars look funny?"
"You're viewing them from a different position. If you want to use them to navigate, you have to learn them all over again. The moon is too small for anyone to bother, though."
To Be Continued
"No," Gerald said.
"Don't talk like that. I know it's a long journey, but we'll get you as close as we can. Men!"
The villagers hoisted up Gerald, ran to the edge of the cliff, and tossed him as far as they could. They tried to watch his progress until they heard a splash. Wishing Gerald good luck on his mission, they returned to the village.
Down below, Gerald was struck senseless for a moment when he hit the water, but instinct kicked in and he started swimming for his life. Disoriented, he saw no guide but a bright round light, and as he swam it grew bigger and bigger . . .
Gerald woke up and looked around. Fields of cotton dotted by cotton trees stretched as far as he could see. Thick herds of rabbits hopped across rises and dips pursued by arctic foxes with javelins, while hippogriffs with gray plumage sported in the starry sky. The elephants were also gray.
Nowhere did he see anything that could be mistaken for any kind of sea god's palace nor any sign or guidepost indicating which way it could be. Even the stars looked strange. With no better ideas, he started walking the direction he happened to be facing when he stood up.
In time he crested a ridge and saw a paved stone road, which he eagerly intercepted and followed. His spirits were high owing to his good fortune and rose higher when he saw, sitting on a rock beside the road, a person.
"Excuse me, sir," he called out.
The man slid off the rock onto the road. "Is that the rarity of rarities here on the moon, a human? I'm pleased to meet you. Who might you be? I would introduce myself, but obviously there's no need."
"Oh? Why is that?"
"Well, I'm Varney the renowned playwright," he said. In response to Gerald's blank look, he elaborated. "I write plays. For theaters. People watch them."
"I get that, but I'm sorry to say I haven't heard of you. We don't have a theater in my village."
"That's a shame."
"If you don't mind me asking, what's a celebrated playwright doing here?"
"This is the moon. All playwrights end up here eventually. Are you a playwright or just a poet?"
"Ah, no, I'm just Gerald, a fisherman." In response to Varney's blank look, Gerald elaborated. "I catch fish. In the sea."
"I understand that very well. As a matter of fact, I have eaten fish before. But there are no fish in the Lunar Sea. You'd better go home."
"I'm not here to fish. The village hasn't been doing so well, you see, and they sent me to ask the sea god if he would make our waters more populated. I can't go home until I've seen him." Gerald shook his head. "I don't really know if I can go home after, but it is what it is."
"That's a terrible story. I don't mean that sympathetically. Well, good luck. The sea god's palace is quite far away."
"You know where it is? Could you please tell me? I'm completely lost."
"Anything for a human. Now if you look in this direction, do you see where the road forks?"
"I do."
"Both roads lead to the palace. If you take the left path, you will pass through the pleasant and road-crossed Serene Plains, where at this very moment crowds are gathering for the moon's biggest sporting event, the Lunar Classic. The championship will be decided soon. They have music and puppet shows, not to mention betting has reached extravagant levels. You can buy souvenirs for your village and try the cotton candy."
"You can make candy out of cotton?"
"No, it only looks like cotton. It's a lunar specialty. So of course you want to go that way. The other path leads to the Lunar Sea, past which are broad and vasty plains unknown to infrastructure which you must cross to reach the palace."
"Oh, that sounds much faster. I'll go that way. Thank you for telling me."
Gerald started walking, but Varney put himself in his way. "Wait just a moment. I don't recommend the Lunar Sea at all. It's a bad route to take."
"How so?"
"Well, it's a big sea. You need a boat or raft to cross it. And it's dangerous. You'll be in trouble if you drink from it."
"Pardon me for saying so, and maybe playwrights don't know this, but that sounds like how seas usually are."
"Fine then, take that road. I'll come along so I can see your face when you realize the mistake you've made."
"Really? I sure appreciate it, Mr. Varney."
The road wandered by rows of cotton lavender until it met with a wide, sluggish river and adopted a parallel course. "This is the Millennium River," Varney said. "Within its banks flows not water, but nectar."
"That's good. I'm pretty thirsty."
"Don't drink nectar. Also, if you really think about it, you'll find you aren't hungry or thirsty at all."
"What are you talking about?" Gerald thought it over. "Wait, you're right."
"Nobody's thirsty on the moon, and only the foxes seem to be hungry. Let's keep going." So saying, they continued down the road.
Gerald and Varney reached a stretch of the river where a system of channels diverted the river into dozens of small pools. Around the pools, clusters of squirrels, beavers, and raccoons wearing smocks were washing small, shiny objects in the nectar and placing them in baskets.
Gerald tried to take in the scene."What's going on? What are those sparkling things?"
"Oh, those are souls. They come out of the dead on Earth, tumble into the sea, and rain down on the Pompous Mountains upstream. Then they're carried down the river to this place. They'd go all the way to the sea if the waterworks didn't divert them."
"What are the animals doing to them?"
"The souls that arrive here are covered in so much gunk and grime you would hardly believe it. Their sins, their virtues, their hopes and deeds, fame and infamy . . . people accumulate a great mass of it all during their lives. Obviously that all has to be washed off before the souls can be used again. Once they're clean, the workers set them aside for the seagulls to pick up and distribute on Earth."
"Why seagulls?"
"They can glide all the way to Earth without flapping once."
"Ah, I see. That's efficiency."
"Some rare souls have gained such a dense shell of deeds they sink right to the bottom and roll slowly along the river floor. After hundreds of years they reach the Lunar Sea, and after centuries more enough of the cruft comes off that they rise to the top of the water and then keep going right into the sky, where they become stars."
"So that's why they say the sky is the field of heroes?"
"Exactly. That's from one of my plays, by the way."
"I never knew. Do you think we could borrow a raft or boat?"
"That's easy enough to find out. Hey, is Wulfgar around?"
The animals ceased their fussy little movements and looked at the travelers. One of the squirrels came up to them. "What do you want, Varney?"
"Nothing at all. My friend Gerald here, however, wishes to cross the Lunar Sea."
"Why? The big game's the other way."
"Regrettably, he has a job to do that takes him away from the Serene Plains, much like yours keeps you here."
"Poor guy. Sure, you can use the raft. Nobody here's going to need it anytime soon, and the beavers can make another if they want."
"Thank you very much, Mr. Wulfgar," Gerald said.
"Don't mention it."
Gerald and Varney made their way through the facilities and found a simple wooden raft pulled up on the bank.
"Do you know how to use this kind of thing?" Varney asked.
Gerald shoved the raft and hopped on. "Of course."
Varney joined Gerald on the raft, and down the river they went. "This really isn't water," Gerald remarked. "It's so thick I'm having trouble working the pole."
"That is one of its distinct properties. Nectar replaces water entirely in the body, sustaining the internal organs with a minimum of motion. That contributes to that length of life which is characteristic of the highest creatures."
"Then why did you say it was bad to drink it?"
"First, the nectar will cleanse your insides through its spiritually abrasive properties. Humans are mostly bad, so you're likely to have vital parts scrubbed away. Just surviving that part is a matter of luck. Second, while nectar replaces water, the opposite is not true. You will be forced to stay near this river and sea for the rest of your elongated life."
"I was going to spend my whole life by the sea anyway."
"You will perceive also there are no fish in the nectar."
"By the trident! I didn't think about that. Is it safe for other creatures, though?"
"Not at all. Why, you can see right there the hippopotamuses are wearing snorkels."
"Oh, you're right. Are they as bad as humans?"
"You've never met a hippopotamus, have you? They're easily thirty percent worse."
The raft floated down the river all the way to the Lunar Sea. The nectar spread out over a such a great width that Gerald and Varney could barely see the shore on either side.
"It's more of a lake than a sea," Gerald said.
"Yes. I think they were trying for a pun, but I disagree with it."
"Which way should I go?"
"You should go to the left bank and get off this lake as fast as possible, but the palace is past the far side."
"All right, thanks."
Gerald poled the raft along while seagulls drifted above his head. Wisps of cotton blew in the mild winds above the lake. The stars shining above seemed brighter than they ever did on Earth since there was no sun or moon to rival them.
"Hey, Mr. Varney?"
"Hm?"
"Why do the stars look funny?"
"You're viewing them from a different position. If you want to use them to navigate, you have to learn them all over again. The moon is too small for anyone to bother, though."
To Be Continued
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