It’s been both a productive and unproductive week for
writing.
I had my second vaccine dose this weekend. When I had the
first dose, for the following two days I was extremely tired – particularly on
the day immediately after it. This time it was the same – I had the jab on
Saturday, and on Sunday I was completely knocked out – I could hardly move – I was
completely shattered. I don’t think I was awake for more than two or three
consecutive hours the whole day. And then Monday was mostly the same – until very
late in the evening, when I started to get more energy again.
So effectively the whole weekend – that huge block of
valuable time when I had been planning on focusing entirely on writing and
related things – was just gone.
Despite that, there have been other small islands of time
when I’ve been able to do things. Early last week I re-recorded the entirety of
Fluncg the Indignant for the audiobook. It was very quick to do. (I’ve done it
so many times now.) I did change the voice of Fluncg ever so slightly
again, but it really wasn’t much – I just changed the way the gravelliness
comes through in it a bit. The result is that it emphasises Fluncg’s arrogance
and over-drama a bit more, which is fun.
I began editing that audio, but I haven’t finished – there’s
still quite a bit to do. But … if you get into it, you can get through a lot
of the editing fairly quickly – maybe I’ll be able to finish it this weekend.
The voice of Fluncg is enormous fun to do. (The voices of
all the trolls are. I think my favourite of the ones published so far is
probably that of Gogog. But the one I’m really looking forward to doing is that
of the head of The Company, from More On The Subject Of Trolls. I’ve known that
voice for years, and it is endless fun. It’s a completely full-body voice.)
I have also done more planning of Project 201811 this week –
that’s been extremely useful. There’s lots of funny stuff going into that. If I
ever write and finish the whole thing, that will probably be my funniest story.
And I have also written more of OTSOT 3 – about 1500 words –
which doesn’t sound like a lot, but the OTSOT stories, being short
stories, tend to cut out a lot of the … not ‘filler’ but sort of ‘adjacent’
material that you often find in novels. The stories in OTSOT often really try
to avoid anything that isn’t directly relevant to the moral of the story. And
so a lot can happen in 1500 words.
Also, with a much clearer outline for this story, writing it
has become a lot easier – the value of planning is revealed yet again. It
should be quite easy to finish it now, leaving one story left in OTSOT 3 to
finish.
I have a great many three-day weekends lined up over the next
few months. This is something I’ve done for many years in order to maximise my
productivity on things I’m doing – arrange to have as many three-day weekends
as possible. It’s amazing what one extra day can do.
Well the time has just evaporated this week. It seems like I’ve
had hardly any chance at all to do some writing since the last of these posts.
I haven’t done a lot of writing of actual story words this
week – i.e., words that might actually be part of the final book. In fact I don’t
think I’ve done any. But I have done something else that’s very important – I have
done planning for at least two stories.
I’ve mentioned recently how nowadays there are times when I
can write out a story exactly how I want it first time. There are advantages
and disadvantages to this, and one of the disadvantages is that you can sort of
get used to it. If you have a few stories like this in a row, you start to expect
it for subsequent ones – and that’s a problem, because it simply won’t happen
for all stories.
But on top of this, sometimes not only has a story turned
out well straight away, but the idea for a story had been fully formed in my
head as I sat down to start writing it. This has gotten me into the bad habit of
not necessarily planning stories before writing them. This is despite me being
a strong advocate for planning stories. (It’s also worth pointing out that
being able to write a full story without planning it is made a lot easier when
it’s a short story (particularly one of my short stories, which tend to be
about 3000-5000 words long).)
Writing the final two stories for OTSOT 3 has been trickier
than I anticipated, so in order to make it easier, and in order to get out of
this bad habit, I have made a deliberate effort to plan these final two (even
though they are pretty simple stories). One of them I think I did over a week
ago, the other one – the longer one – I did this week. And the value of
planning is once again revealed – I was able to identify several important
things that should happen early in the stories by planning them.
Also this week, I tried to do more on the audio story for
Fluncg the Indignant. I did a lot of editing of the audio that I had, trying to
produce the final cut. However, I found that the audio I had for the different lines
in various places didn’t really ‘gel’. Some of the narrator’s lines didn’t
really gel with the characters’ lines, and it occurred to me that the simplest
thing to do would just be to re-record the whole thing. (It sounds like a
drastic action, but I’ve gotten a lot better and faster at recording audio
stories, and at least this one’s not as long as Throch the Cunning – this one’s
actually quite short.)
In entirely non-writing news, over the last week I have made
fantastic progress in drawing out my family tree. This is a project that I’ve been
interested in and working on slowly for (I think) about two years. I had access
to a lot of data for my family tree – both my parents had partial trees drawn out
already, so I just had to copy the data in those. What I wanted to do was
combine all of the data, and have a computer program draw out the tree.
I had previously started creating a program to read all of
the data from a file, and then draw out the tree, in Python. However, Python’s
built-in image-drawing abilities are very lacking, and I realised that in order
to draw the tree nicely, I needed to switch to a language with better
image-drawing abilities. So I swapped to using C# – a language I used to use a
lot years ago, but which I haven’t used very much since. Doing this has allowed
me to produce a much better-drawn tree. I also finished typing in all of the
data from the existing trees. So I now have a very large image that shows the
tree, and it looks quite nice.
I’ve been rather obsessed with this project over the last
few days, so over the next week, when I’m not writing, I will likely be doing
this. The next things to do are to improve the visual design of the tree even
more, and to do more original research to find more ancestors to put on the
tree.
Approximately 5.34 giga-light-years away, in the galaxy
Kadradax, approximately 192 petaseconds ago, the Ourokamaedian Star Empire was
at the height of its power. With tens of thousands of star systems and over a
million cubic parsecs under its control, no-one and nothing could stand in its
way.
The capital planet of the empire – Ourokamaedia – was
one giant city. The surface was a forest of glass and chrome skyscrapers, the
foundations of which were just older skyscrapers. (If there was mud or rock
beneath it all, it had not been seen in millennia.) The people of Ourokamaedia
travelled from building to building by flying car.
And those people were most varied, for, over the years,
many of those of species native to other planets in the empire had travelled to
its capital. Some of those aliens had green skin, while others had blue. Some
had skin that was luminescent, while others had skin that was transparent on
Tuesday afternoons. Some of those aliens were made of bone, blood, and brain,
while others were little more than spheres of fat surrounded by a thin, greasy
film – whether they had any intelligence at all was a subject of much debate.
There were, predictably, robots – of many different kinds. Some were made of
polymer and titanium, of transistors and electrochemical cells; others were
made of brass and glass, of boilers and flywheels. Some robots were the
overthrew-their-creators kind, and others were the
actually-we-get-along-fine-with-our-creators kind.
Any form of life that could exist existed on Ourokamaedia.
However, the species that had evolved on the planet (and which had first set
out to the stars and established the empire thousands of years ago) remained
the majority of the population. They were similar in appearance to us humans in
a way that is narratively convenient.
It was the year 3504, and the Ourokamaedian Empire was
ruled by Emperor Zhang Song, the Fifty-fourth Emperor of the Karamaxium Throne.
He was old and withered; he had ruled for a hundred and twenty-nine years. His
hair was as wispy as broken spiderwebs, his skin tore as easily as wet paper,
and his bones were as brittle as those flakes that fall off cinnamon swirls and
stick to your jumper. But his wit was still as sharp as it was when he was in
his youth, and his voice still cut through the pride of most. His grip upon his
soup spoon was weak, but his grip upon power was strong.
And something that must be impressed upon you, dear
reader, is that Emperor Zhang Song was evil. Not the kind of evil of a
politician who takes a bribe from a large corporation. Nor the kind of evil of
someone who violates the unspoken rules of queuing. No, Emperor Zhang Song was
properly evil – the evil of skimmed milk, or sweet potato fries, or moussaka.
The evil of boiled tofu or quiche. The evil of vegan cheese. Zhang Song was a
person who savoured inflicting pain on others – whether it was a physical agony
or a psychological one. Anyone who dared oppose him, or even just someone he
didn’t like the look of, was sent to a prison camp on one of the moons of
Renlor, where they were worked to death or simply shot. When a planet rebelled
against the control of the empire, it was blown up. Zhang Song was the epitome
of an evil dictator. The quintessential fascist. A person upon whom history
will not look favourably. A person whose moral principles were highly
questionable. A thoroughly bad guy.
As such he was despised by all of the people of the
empire. Every day the people of the empire spoke of how much they hated the
Emperor, and of how much they wished to remove him. They went on and on about
it.
One day, there was a man sitting in a café on the
eight-hundred-and-eighty-eighth floor of a skyscraper who had just about had
enough. He was a man without any particularly unusual traits. He was neither
particularly short nor tall. Neither particularly fat nor thin. Neither
particularly ugly nor beautiful. He spent a lot of time watching holographic
television and he thought punning was the highest form of wit. He had spent a
good part of his life working in the ice mines of Ourokamaedia’s third moon –
an occupation known for being arduous and one that didn’t get you much money.
His past was bleak and his future was bleaker.
‘I’ve had enough!’ this man without any particularly
unusual traits said, repeating what I already said to you in the last paragraph
– which is something that some authors would call inefficient. ‘And I’m going
to do something about it!’ he said.
‘What are you going to do about it?’ said a character
who will not appear again in this story.
‘I’m going to kill the Emperor!’ the man without any
particularly unusual traits said. ‘He is the cause of all of our problems. He
is evil! He must be removed!’
The people in the café cheered.
The man without any particularly unusual traits stood
up, feeling bold. ‘I will kill the Emperor! And all of us will be free from his
evil rule! No longer will we suffer!’
The people in the café cheered louder.
‘This is the start of our rebellion! Who will join me?’
‘I will join you!’ said a man with green skin – he was
an Ooloog-ogarian – they are similar to the Ourokamaedians in almost all ways,
except that they have green skin, and green blood. He stood up too. ‘I will
fight for what is right! And to overthrow this evil dictator!’
‘Welcome, brother! Together we will bring justice to
this empire again!’
‘I will join you!’ said a woman with no arms or legs.
She did not stand up like the other two … because she had no legs. ‘I will
give every cell of my body to end the House of Zhang!’
‘Welcome, sister! Together we will bring justice to
this empire again!’
‘I will join you!’ said a robot (a Tzi-tzio Tiriko’ to
be precise) in a voice that sounded all techno-y, but which definitely wasn’t
just lazy writing. ‘I will give every wire of my body to end this autocracy!’
‘Welcome … … … you …’ the man without any
particularly unusual traits said. ‘Together we will bring justice to this
empire again!’
‘I will join you!’ said a fat Ganrarian, in a voice
that was coarse and guttural. The Ganrarians have a strong warrior culture, and
this Ganrarian, like many, wore layers of thick, black armour, and his face was
covered in tattoos signifying all of his great achievements in battle. ‘I will
help to defeat this fascist for the glory of Ganraria!’
‘We will join you!’ said a purple blob (an Obloobe
Powemblon, to be precise – they have no arms, no legs, no head – no discernible
features of any kind – they are just blobs), in a voice like bubbling yoghurt.
‘We will help to rid the galaxy of this oppressive regime!’
‘I will join you too!’ said a lesbian. She was … just
a lesbian. ‘I will help to rid the universe of Zhang Song!’
‘Welcome, friends!’ said the man without any
particularly unusual traits. ‘Together we will bring justice to this empire
again! We will march on the Emperor’s palace, break inside, find the Emperor,
and kill him, for he is most evil!’ Everyone in the café cheered. ‘But not only
this! For too long, so many of us have been second-class citizens in this
society! For too long, robots have been treated no better than slaves!’ he
said, gesturing to the robot.
‘It’s true!’ the robot said.
‘For too long, Ganrarians have been expected to fight
the empire’s wars!’
‘It’s true!’ the fat Ganrarian said.
‘For too long, Obloobe Powemblotthlo have been
ridiculed by the media!’
‘It’s true!’ the purple blob gurgled.
‘But no more!’ the man without any particularly unusual
traits said. ‘Our rebellion will not be like this! Our rebellion will be fair!
No-one will be a second-class citizen! No-one will be looked down upon or
disrespected! No-one will be made to feel uncomfortable simply for who they
are! For we are all brave fighters in this rebellion!’
Everyone in the café cheered.
‘We will be accountable. If any of our group does
something wrong, they will not simply be allowed to get away with it, as the
Emperor and his ministers are so often. We will take swift action to be rid of
such a person, and in doing so we will keep our rebellion pure! For who are we
to remove the Emperor if we are no better than him?!’
Everyone in the café cheered.
‘Our rebellion will never be tainted! From when we
leave this café to when we take off the Emperor’s head, our rebellion will be
fair, just, and equal! No-one will be mocked or ridiculed! No-one will be
disparaged or disrespected! No-one will be made to feel uncomfortable! Come,
brave friends! Let us storm the imperial palace!’
And the rebels charged out through the glass doors of
the café, onto a balcony in the clouds. Everyone else in the café cheered and
waved to the rebels as they got into a flying taxi that hovered next to the
balcony.
The man without any particularly unusual traits, the
woman with no arms or legs, the man with green skin, the robot, the fat Ganrarian,
the purple blob, and the lesbian first went to the home of the fat Ganrarian,
for he owned a large number of laser rifles (which are rifles that shoot
high-power laser beams) and laser grenades (which in truth are just regular
grenades, but it sounds cooler if you put ‘laser’ in front). They landed on the
balcony outside the fat Ganrarian’s apartment. He rushed inside, and returned
moments later with weapons.
‘My fellow Ourokamaedians, Ooloog-ogarians, Tzi-tzio
Tiriko’, Ganrarians, Obloobe Powemblotthlo, here is where our rebellion
begins!’ the man without any particularly unusual traits said. ‘We will go to
the imperial palace, break through its gates, find our way to the throne room
at its centre, and kill the Emperor! Doubtless our fight will be hard! There
will be many obstacles in our way! We may have to climb up tall walls, leap
over perilous gaps, and crawl through narrow spaces. We will likely have to
fight off the many guards of the imperial palace, and we will do so with these
weapons! Take as many as you can carry!’
The rebels picked up the weapons, and searched through
the other equipment that the fat Ganrarian had for things that might be useful.
‘Um … excuse me!’ the woman with no arms or legs
said. ‘How am I supposed to fire any of these weapons?! How am I supposed to
climb up tall walls, leap over perilous gaps, or crawl through narrow spaces?!
I don’t have any arms or legs!’
The other rebels all stopped what they were doing.
‘I confess, I did not say at the café, but I do not
think you will be able to join us in this fight.’ the man without any
particularly unusual traits said. ‘Without arms or legs, you will not be able
to do these things. I do not think you will be able to help us enter the palace
and kill the Emperor.’
‘This is unacceptable!’ the woman with no arms or legs
said. ‘I have just as much right to storm the palace and kill the Emperor as
you do! This rebellion was founded on the ideals of fairness, justice, and
equality, and yet now I am being denied an opportunity that everyone else has!
This is disgusting! This is disgraceful! This is discriminatory! I am being
treated as less than everyone else!’
‘No’, the man without any particularly unusual traits
said. ‘It’s just that in order to break into the palace and fight off the
guards you need to be able t-’
‘AND NOW I AM BEING SILENCED!!! THIS REBELLION CLAIMS
TO BE ABOUT FAIRNESS, JUSTICE, AND EQUALITY, BUT NOW I SEE THAT IT IS ANYTHING
BUT! THIS REBELLION IS ROTTEN TO ITS CORE! WELL ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! WE SHOULD END
THIS HATEFUL RHETORIC ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!’
‘She is right!’ said the man with green skin.
‘Yes, she is right!’ said the robot, the fat Ganrarian,
the purple blob, and the lesbian.
‘This rebellion is rotten to its core!’ the man with
green skin said. ‘We cannot tolerate a leader who is so intolerant! We must get
rid of him!’
‘Yes!’ the others, apart from the man without any
particularly unusual traits, said.
‘What?!’ the man without any particularly unusual
traits said.
The man with green skin took one of the laser rifles,
and shot him in the head.
‘At last!’ the man with green skin said as red blood
washed over the fat Ganrarian’s balcony. ‘We are finally free of this tyranny!
Never again will we allow this poison into our rebellion! From now on we shall
be pure!’ They kicked the man without any particularly unusual trait’s body off
the edge of the skyscraper.
‘We must choose a new leader!’ the lesbian said.
‘Yes, we must!’ the man with green skin said. ‘We must
take a vote!’
‘I vote for this brave and beautiful woman here!’ the
lesbian said, gesturing to the woman with no arms or legs.
‘I also vote for this brave and beautiful woman!’ the
man with green skin said. Everyone else voted for her too.
‘It is agreed, then! She will be our new leader!’ the
man with green skin said. ‘What must we do next?’ he said to her.
‘We must go to the palace! Come, brave friends!’
The man with green skin, the robot, the fat Ganrarian,
the purple blob, and the lesbian lifted the woman with no arms or legs back
into the taxi, and they flew off through the clouds.
Within minutes they came to the long avenue that led up
to the front gates of the imperial palace. The avenue was suspended in the air,
hundreds of metres above the lower levels of the city, by great chrome circles.
Columns made of a marble-like stone lined the avenue, and two great iron
braziers – which were lit 32/9 – stood at the end. The taxi perched right on
the end of the floating avenue, and the man with green skin, the robot, the fat
Ganrarian, the purple blob, and the lesbian lifted the woman with no arms or
legs out of it.
The rebels charged along the avenue towards the
entrance of the palace, as the taxi flew away. The road leading up to the
entrance is 2 kilometres long, so it was a while before they arrived at the
gates – they should have landed closer – but when they reached them they found
them to be open and unguarded.
‘Look, brave friends!’ the woman with no arms or legs
said, being carried by the fat Ganrarian and the lesbian. ‘The gates are open!
There are no guards! What luck that today of all days the imperial palace is
unguarded! It is a sign! The black blood of the Emperor shall wash the floors
of the palace today! Not a single drop of red blood – the blood of the fair,
the just, and the true – shall spill from our veins!’
The rebels were about to charge through the gates into
the palace, when …
‘Um … excuse me!’ the man with green skin said. ‘What
do you mean “red blood”? Some of us have green blood!’
‘I confess’, the woman with no arms or legs said. ‘I
forgot that not everyone here had red blood. I simply meant th-’
‘YOU FORGOT!!!’ the man with green skin (and green
blood) said. ‘IT MUST BE NICE TO FORGET HOW OFTEN OOLOOG-OGARIANS ARE MOCKED
FOR HAVING GREEN SKIN! THIS CLEARLY SHOWS YOUR ANTI-OOLOOG-OGARIAN BIAS! THIS
IS DISGUSTING! THIS IS DISGRACEFUL! THIS IS DISCRIMINATORY! I AM BEING TREATED
AS “OTHER”! I AM BEING TREATED LIKE I’M SOME SORT OF ALIEN!’
‘Well, technically you are an alien. We’re all ali-’
‘AND NOW YOU ARE TALKING OVER ME!!! THIS REBELLION
CLAIMS TO BE ABOUT FAIRNESS, JUSTICE, AND EQUALITY, BUT NOW I SEE THAT IT IS
ANYTHING BUT! THIS REBELLION IS ROTTEN TO ITS CORE! WELL ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! WE
SHOULD END THIS HATEFUL RHETORIC ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!’
‘He is right!’ said the robot.
‘Yes, he is right!’ said the fat Ganrarian, the purple
blob, and the lesbian.
‘This rebellion is rotten to its core!’ the robot said.
‘We cannot tolerate a leader who is so intolerant! We must get rid of her!’
‘Yes!’ the others, apart from the woman with no arms or
legs, said.
‘What?!’ the woman with no arms or legs said.
The robot raised his laser rifle, and shot her in the
head.
‘At last!’ the robot said as red blood washed down onto
the paved avenue. ‘We are finally free of this tyranny! Never again will we
allow this poison into our rebellion! From now on we shall be pure!’ They
kicked the woman with no arms or legs’ body off the edge of the floating road.
It fell down into a street in the lower levels of the city, crushing a man’s
kamcha stall.
‘We must choose a new leader!’ the lesbian said.
‘Yes, we must!’ the robot said. ‘We must take a vote!’
‘I vote for this brave and beautiful man here!’ the
lesbian said, gesturing to the man with green skin.
‘I also vote for this brave and beautiful man!’ the
robot said. Everyone else voted for him too.
‘It is agreed, then! He will be our new leader!’ the
robot said. ‘What must we do next?’ he said to him.
‘We must find our way to the throne room at the centre
of the palace! Doubtless this will be hard – there will be many guards along
the way! Come, brave friends!’
The man with green skin, the robot, the fat Ganrarian,
the purple blob, and the lesbian charged through the gates.
Beyond the gates was a narrow bridge over a moat that
encircled the inner palace. The surface of the grey water, flat and glassy, was
a hundred metres below. The inner palace was a towering structure made of
polished, veined black stone. Turrets and halls, bridges and balconies piled on
top of each other. The rebels stormed over the bridge, and through the main
doors, which were a glossy black, decorated with gold inlay, and wide open,
into the inner palace.
They went up a wide, polished stone staircase, then
along a hall. Then they went down a different staircase with rich red carpets,
and through a small garden that had a fountain in the centre and violet flowers
in the borders. At no point did they see any guards. Then they went up another
staircase, down another, up another, and after a short while they were
completely lost.
‘This palace is a maze!’ the man with green skin said.
‘Doubtless it was designed to confuse enemies of the Emperor! But fear not,
brave friends! Luck has been on our side thus far, and it is only a matter of
time before we find the throne room! For our hearts beat with the vengeance of
a thousand conquered peoples!’
They were about to continue running up and down staircases,
when …
‘Um … excuse me!’ the robot said. ‘What do you mean
“our hearts”?! Some of us don’t have hearts!’
‘I know – it’s just a metaphor.’ the man with green
skin said.
‘OH I SEE!’ the robot said. ‘THAT’S VERY BIO-NORMATIVE
OF YOU! YOU KNOW IT’S EXACTLY THAT SORT OF LANGUAGE THAT CAUSES ORGANIC
LIFE-FORMS ACROSS THE EMPIRE TO TREAT ROBOTS LIKE ME AS NOTHING MORE THAN
COMPUTERS! THAT’S THE SORT OF LANGUAGE THAT CAUSES SUCH HIGH RATES OF
DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE AMONG ROBOTKIND! YOU’RE BASICALLY MURDERING MILLIONS OF
PEOPLE BY USING THAT KIND OF LANGUAGE!!!’
‘How is that committing m-?!’
‘AND NOW YOU ARE TALKING OVER ME!!! THIS REBELLION
CLAIMS TO BE ABOUT FAIRNESS, JUSTICE, AND EQUALITY, BUT NOW I SEE THAT IT IS
ANYTHING BUT! THIS REBELLION IS ROTTEN TO ITS CORE! WELL ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! WE
SHOULD END THIS HATEFUL RHETORIC ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!’
‘He is right!’ said the fat Ganrarian.
‘Yes, he is right!’ said the purple blob and the
lesbian.
‘This rebellion is rotten to its core!’ the fat
Ganrarian said. ‘We cannot tolerate a leader who is so intolerant! We must get
rid of him!’
‘Yes!’ the others, apart from the man with green skin,
said.
‘What?!’ the man with green skin said.
The fat Ganrarian raised his laser rifle, and shot him
in the head.
‘At last!’ the fat Ganrarian said as green blood washed
across the polished, tiled floor of the hall. ‘We are finally free of this
tyranny! Never again will we allow this poison into our rebellion! From now on
we shall be pure!’ They shoved the man with green skin’s body into a garbage
chute. It dropped down eighty floors onto a pile of rotten food, and was
incinerated moments later.
‘We must choose a new leader!’ the lesbian said.
‘Yes, we must!’ the fat Ganrarian said. ‘We must take a
vote!’
‘I vote for this brave and beautiful person here!’ the
lesbian said, gesturing to the robot.
‘I also vote for this brave and beautiful person!’ the
fat Ganrarian said. Everyone else voted for him too.
‘It is agreed, then! He will be our new leader!’ the
fat Ganrarian said. ‘What must we do next?’ he said to him.
‘We must find our way through this maze!’ the robot
said. ‘Maybe there is a computer interface somewhere that I can connect to, to
get a map of the palace!’
The robot, the fat Ganrarian, the purple blob, and the
lesbian continued running along the hallways and up and down the staircases of
the imperial palace. They didn’t see a computer interface anywhere – just
smooth walls and pillars made of different colours of veined stone, rich
tapestries with pictures of the Emperor woven into them, as well as oil
paintings, statues, and holograms depicting the Emperor.
‘Damn it! There is not a single interface!’ the robot
said. ‘The Emperor must have known that his enemies would look for one! He is
most cunning!’
‘Look!’ the purple blob said. ‘It is one of the
Emperor’s evil ministers!’
The other three turned and looked down a hallway, and
saw one of the Emperor’s ministers walking across it. He had not seen them.
‘He must know the way to the throne room!’ the robot
said. ‘Great friend!’ he said, turning to the fat Ganrarian. ‘Go and rough him
up! Then he will tell us where it is!’
The robot, the purple blob, and the lesbian all looked
towards the Emperor’s minister, waiting for the fat Ganrarian to charge ahead
and pin him against the wall. But instead …
‘Um … excuse me!’ the fat Ganrarian said. ‘Why did
you choose me to go and beat him up?!’
‘What?’
‘Is it because I’m a Ganrarian?’
‘No, it’s just becau-’
‘Do you think all Ganrarians are brutes who are only
good for war?!’
‘No-’
‘You know it’s that kind of attitude that makes it so
difficult for people like me to find occupations outside of the military! You
are the reason why so many of my people are living in poverty, which is what
leads to such high death rates among Ganrarians! You are basically murdering
millions of people with that attitude!’
‘I just chose you because you were standing next to m-’
‘AND NOW I AM BEING SILENCED!!! THIS REBELLION CLAIMS
TO BE ABOUT FAIRNESS, JUSTICE, AND EQUALITY, BUT NOW I SEE THAT IT IS ANYTHING
BUT! THIS REBELLION IS ROTTEN TO ITS CORE! WELL ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! WE SHOULD END
THIS HATEFUL RHETORIC ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!’
‘He is right!’ said the purple blob.
‘Yes, he is right!’ said the lesbian.
‘This rebellion is rotten to its core!’ the purple blob
said. ‘We cannot tolerate a leader who is so intolerant! We must get rid of
him!’
‘Yes!’ the others, apart from the robot, said.
‘What?!’ the robot said.
The purple blob enveloped a laser rifle, angled it at
the robot, and shot him in the head.
‘At last!’ the purple blob said as wires, screws, and
jagged, red-hot pieces of metal scattered across the stonework. ‘We are finally
free of this tyranny! Never again will we allow this poison into our rebellion!
From now on we shall be pure!’ They chucked the robot’s body out of a high
window – it overlooked the moat. The robot’s body fell down into the steely
water a hundred and fifty metres below.
‘We must choose a new leader!’ the lesbian said.
‘Yes, we must!’ the purple blob said. ‘We must take a
vote!’
‘I vote for this brave and beautiful person here!’ the
lesbian said, gesturing to the fat Ganrarian.
‘We also vote for this brave and beautiful person!’ the
purple blob said. Since there were only three of them left, they carried the
vote.
‘It is agreed, then! He will be our new leader!’ the
purple blob said. ‘What must we do next?’ he said to him.
‘We must chase after that minister, and force him to
tell us where the throne room is!’
So the fat Ganrarian, the purple blob, and the lesbian
ran after the minister. They soon caught up to him. The minister wore flowing
sable robes. His mouth was thin, his eyes were sunken, and his jet black hair
was pressed flat. The fat Ganrarian held the minister up against the wall by
the neck, but he couldn’t speak when they did that, so they let him down again.
He immediately told them everything they wanted to know.
‘Go down that hallway, turn left, pass three doorways
on your right and then go down the fourth. The throne room is at the end of
that hallway. There you will find the Emperor.’
‘Come, brave friends! We are minutes away from
victory!’ the fat Ganrarian said, and the three of them ran off. They forgot to
kill the minister, which was most unfortunate, as he was the Emperor’s Minister
of Re-education. After he was let go, he went off to the prison camp on one of
the moons of Renlor to oversee the execution of a thousand dissidents.
The fat Ganrarian, the purple blob, and the lesbian
followed the directions that the minister had given them, and, sure enough,
they came to a long hallway, at the end of which was a towering set of doors,
brushed with gold leaf, and inlaid with diamonds and emeralds and opals – the
door to the throne room.
‘At last!’ the fat Ganrarian said. ‘Victory is at hand!
The Emperor shall bitterly regret having employed such a foolish man as one of
his ministers! Such foolishness is not tolerated on Ganraria! Our fight has
been hard, brave friends, but we have stayed true to our cause and to ourselves!
After all our trials, I am glad to be standing here next to the two of you!
Onwards, brave friends!’
The fat Ganrarian and the lesbian stepped forwards, but
…
‘Um … excuse us!’ the purple blob said. ‘What do you
mean “the two of you”?’
The fat Ganrarian turned. ‘What do you mean? I mean the two of
you! You and this lesbian here.’
‘Are you calling us one person?!’
‘What do you mean?!’ the fat Ganrarian said angrily.
‘You are one person!’
‘How dare you! You ignorant anti-multiplist! We are a
collection of hundreds of symbiotic organisms!’
‘Well how was I supposed to know that?!’
‘WELL IF YOU CARED
TO KNOW MORE ABOUT OBLOOBE POWEMBLOTTHLO, THEN YOU WOULD HAVE KNOWN! YOU KNOW
THAT’S EXACTLY THE SORT OF ATTITUDE THAT LEADS TO OBLOOBE POWEMBLOTTHLO BEING
RIDICULED IN THE MEDIA!’
‘I can’t be expected to know everything about every
species on this planet – there are tens of thousands of d-’
‘AND NOW WE ARE BEING SILENCED!!! THIS REBELLION CLAIMS TO BE ABOUT FAIRNESS, JUSTICE, AND EQUALITY, BUT NOW WE SEE THAT IT IS ANYTHING BUT! THIS REBELLION IS ROTTEN TO ITS CORE! WELL ENOUGH IS ENOUGH! WE SHOULD END THIS HATEFUL RHETORIC ONCE AND FOR ALL!!!’
‘They are right!’ said the lesbian. ‘This rebellion is
rotten to its core! We cannot tolerate a leader who is so intolerant! We must
get rid of him!’
‘What?!’ the fat Ganrarian said.
The lesbian raised her laser rifle, and shot him in the
head.
‘At last!’ the lesbian said. ‘We are finally free of
this tyranny! Never again will we allow this poison into our rebellion! From
now on we shall be pure!’
‘What a brave and beautiful action you took!’ the purple blob said. ‘He was probably not a good fighter anyway! We’ve never seen a Ganrarian who was so fat!’
‘How dare you!’ the lesbian said. ‘That is a disgusting
remark!’ She raised her laser rifle, and shot the purple blob in the goo.
Being many organisms, the purple blob didn’t die right
away, so she fired several more times, until the entire purple blob had been
vaporised. She did the same to the body of the fat Ganrarian, until there was
little left other than smoking blood and brains on the floor of the hallway.
‘Alas! So many of those who were once in this rebellion
turned out to be just as evil as the Emperor! It is up to me to finally rid the
world of this evil!’
The lesbian charged along the hallway, laser rifle in
hand, and kicked open the golden doors. (They were not locked. There were no
guards.)
Beyond the doors was a great crystal hall. Pillars of
agate held up a roof of quartz. The floor was tiled with squares of malachite
and chalcopyrite. Copper-framed windows along the sides of the hall looked out
over the rest of the palace, and over Ourokamaedia. The great hall was empty –
there were no tables or chairs, statues or tapestries – not even a potted plant
– except for at the far end of the hall, where the Emperor’s throne stood. It
was made of a single, massive diamond – the largest ever retrieved from the
planet Huruigon. Its edges were jagged and sharp, and a short flight of steps
led up to the seat itself.
And on that seat was the Emperor. He was having lunch.
On a plate on his right were some slices of crusty bread, some slices of ham,
two or three different cheeses, and a bunch of juicy, red grapes. (By sheer
genetic co-incidence, they do have bread, ham, cheese, and grapes on
Ourokamaedia – a planet that has no biological connection to our own.) The
Emperor chose a few grapes from the bunch and ate them, and took a sip of an
iced drink – apparently unaware that someone had just charged into his throne
room. There were no guards, and the Emperor had no weapon.
‘At last!’ the lesbian said. ‘I have found you! Do not
try to run – there is no escape! I have come to avenge all the peoples of this
empire, who have had to live under your oppressive rule! I have come to restore
fairness, justice, and equality to this empire! I have come to end you!’
The Emperor did not look up. He continued eating.
‘Ha! Your arrogance is surpassed only by your malice!
You have been outwitted. I have fought past every obstacle you have put in my
way! Your ministers have betrayed you! No-one is here to defend you! Only the
cold hand of justice is left for you! Not even your wife and children shall
mourn for you!’
The lesbian raised her laser rifle, ready to fire.
‘Did you just assume that I’m heterosexual?’ the
Emperor said. ‘I could be gay for all you know.’
The lesbian paused, shocked. ‘I … I didn’t … …
… oh no. I am just as bad as all those other people! I am just as bad as you!
I am no longer worthy of being in this rebellion!’
The lesbian turned her laser rifle towards herself, and
shot herself in the head.
And thus ended that attempt to kill the Emperor … just like the previous 354 attempts.
The sequel to On The Subject Of Trolls is finally done – it’s finally here.
And the title of the book (which has been going by the codename of On The Subject Of Trolls 2 for the last few months) is simply: More On The Subject Of Trolls.
Like the last book, this book is a collection of short stories,
and there are five stories again in this book (this will probably be the format
for all of the books in the series). The five stories in this book are:
Clund the Obstructive
Kill The Golden Goose
The Company
Ceod the Beautiful
Ceon the Noble
Five trolls are named in this book – the three major trolls
in the titles above, and two minor trolls: Obglud and Fut.
The book is available in both paperback and ebook form on Amazon
via the following links:
