The Reptilian Telepathy of Birds - R.K. Galvez (best pdf reader for ebooks TXT) 📗

THE REPTILIAN TELEPATHY OF BIRDS by R.K. GALVEZ

1) THE MOON-SHAKERS

The broken down moon-colony was not nice. The term "nice" had been obsolete for a long time ago. The Luna-colony did have an official name but remained classified under the codename: Project BrandyIxacidTabwine; a rogue "Demon" resources-based agency from the C.O.G. that had covertly set up this colony without any authorities knowing. A brief description of the colony was all that had remained, as any photographic data has been lost or destroyed by enigmatic C.O.G. censors.

The colony was a strange mish-mash of bio-domes and metallic structures reinforced by ancient architecture. A strange kind of architecture: art deco mixed with some kind of abstracted influence from Mars circa 3459 AD. It was cause for concern. The colony also doubled as a stasis colony for fattened individuals wealthy enough to live long lives in some futuristic world.

As you can tell, people had to use dimensional slip-streams within our earth-realm to travel there. It was a strange command. There were buses in and around Hounslow that would occasionally provide safe transit there; but with all the pzi-muto activity, these soon stopped. Thankfully, the Illuminati had nothing to do with it, of course. They are not to blame for everything and I will not hear a bad word said about them. They would make a right pigs ear out of it, not to mention that silly Scottish Brotherhood.

That little issue aside, things got problematic within the failing colony. Chief Krugler had run out of ideas - his mind-mapper had been lost for some time - and his population was in rapid decline due to the mutation rate. His brain was stormed by various anxieties. He needed some Soul R stimulation, although most things were diluted on the colony.

"If only these mutants could do something - something amazing like in those old comics and films," Krugler said to himself.

As far as the research went on this secret moon-colony, the mutants formed here had no powers and no abilities - although some studies claimed that these useless lumps of mutated flesh did not feel pain. This dark testing process was broken by the Mutant Police Class A Team, known as Trogger and Professor Norkgrub, in another time, aeons ago. They must have cut up a lot of them, thought Krugler. What was interesting was the fact that these mutants could reform themselves. Krugler pondered the nature of the research; he didn't know what to think anymore.

I cannot dress this up any more. No matter how fanciful the concepts of back-story can be, none of these so-called facts had been considered as "real" history. On the surface, it seemed like another epistemological anomaly. The mutants scavenged for a timeless period, which was unable to be assessed by human chronology. The scared human population became more insular; they spent less and saved everything they had to freeze themselves as soon as they got fat and rich enough. It didn't hide the decline and Krugler was under severe political pressure, despite the only political force was his C.O.G. agency overseers known as Goodmann and Goodnow.

The moon-colony(or LunaCol, as it was called by those in the know, I don't know if you might know...)was struggling to cope with its ballooning mutated population. No-one worked as the colony slowly fell apart. Strange mutated entities existed alongside the few humans. These mutated entities had no real powers, like you might expect in some kind of propaganda comics. They seemed to be useless, but had the ability to move via astral projection within various forms of existence.

They were evolving while the small human purist population, particularly extremely wealthy humans, devolved. Each individual was obsessed to eat themselves into a fatty oblivion and over-indulged in a truly decadent fashion. These huge, fattened, soft bodies were put into stasis where they set for revival for immortal life once the moon was reformed properly and colonized enough. Once they were so fat, they were unable to do anything else. However, the expected technology jump never happened; it stalled thanks to the unpredictable mutations.

In one of the major ports - formerly known as Orienti7LK4 - things had got a lot worse. Supplies had been cut off and the computerized monitoring system was on stand-by. The cold metallic structures - left to gather dust and collect natural lysergic deposits - looked like they had never been inhabited by humans. It was once a bustling area, but people had stopped coming to the colony now. As if it had never existed.

It was this idea which was worrying Krugler. Why had the people vanished? They were not here now, mainly due to the fact that the colony power source, deep underground, remained the warmest and safest place. It was here that the colony was struggling to cope. Recruitment was down and they could not understand what was happening to the colony as a whole. People were simply vanishing. Maybe the fat bodies were mutating in stasis too? Or going into the myth-world associated with space-stasis?

Chief Krugler was baffled by all of it. He was out of his depth; he had known that a long time ago. He already had over fifty nervous breakdowns, which had been an average amount since the colony first started. He had to be cured through exercise: masturbation was his only choice. He was very repressed and had been forced to use standard issue C.O.G. sex toys to find that queer sexual stimulation he regularly required.

Time had somehow drifted away, as Krugler had seen the rebirth of this colony: he devised hopeless strategies to repel the scavenging mutated out-staters. They had mutated but were somehow fighting it. Half human and half alien mutation, these creatures consumed whatever food they could find, and taking whatever they could. It was as if they had a strange eating disorder that included things you would not normally eat.

Krugler admitted to himself he had not done enough research on this. And he laughed at the names of various conditions. At least it was keeping him busy. Krugler thought about these problems too much. He had tried to have sexual intercourse with a colony mutant and an alien mutant cannibal, but it had not worked well. The blob-like mutant burned him all over and the alien mutant cannibal had tried to eat him. Krugler had decided to change their name to Altered-Staters for marketing purposes. Out-Staters seemed a bit too technical and it sounded good in reports.

Who was he kidding? The majority of the population had mutated into some unknown entity or other. He had been stuck here for over eight years. Or so he thought. He had lost track of time and was a bit suspicious of the ancient repair Bots time-keeping practices. The colony's mining operation had never started as it was getting costly, and the fear of mutation had put the moon into quarantine; but the recreational possibilities of the colony were still endless. That's what Krugler thought, as he resumed his daily masturbation exercises.

]* * *[

As Krugler pondered upon those unknown recreational possibilities, in another alternative realm-space (near Tooting Bec) known as U&I303808TV, Professor Norkgrub watched the action. He loved this dimension as everyone, whatever they were, was totally euphoric the whole time. Stress died out aeons ago.

Norkgrub was quite unscientific and used hipster words like "Cool". These word-turds had no academic importance and were part of Norkgrub's strangely cosmic patois. He had hanged around with too many old hippies for an undefined amount of time. Time here defied chronology, of course. A day might have been a few minutes on out Earth.

How could Professor Norkgrub see all what was happening to Krugler, I hear you ask? Well, to the amateur occultist, this can be tough to explain. He should have referred more to the C.O.G. Dimension Space-Realm Controller, but Professor Norkgrub was a mystical zoophyte and he was able to use his crystallized methodologies to obtain sudden visions of various futures within Realm-Space. It was through this "groove" - as Norkgrub called it – he remained able to see everything in all kinds of worlds.

Good old Professor Norkgrub smiled a thin zoophyte smile; it was a great thing to witness: a multitude of universal mutations. Evolution can never be stopped; nature always wins, even if it helps to nurture it a little. Of course, too much nurturing can be problematic.

Norkgrub had four billion years to fritter away before the next universal evo-devo-phase. We're all life-forms at the end of the day, thought Norkgrub. Energy remains the key. Norkgrub loved to go on about cosmic energy. His feelers were everywhere.

Norkgrub - or Norky as he's known to his closest friends - needed to find out what team would be sent to help Krugler. He hoped his old intern, Zip Gregano would be involved. At least she's organized, even if a bit sexually repressed, Norkgrub thought. They needed a bit of dream-water to sort that out.

Professor Norkgrub felt he needed something to purge his anger-energy at the crazed ways of humanity; and he was also getting way too much telepathic feedback from Ludovic. Ludovic must be some kind of angry mutant bird. Of course, Norkgrub had no way to explain any of this; it was just a gut instinct. Just like his gut always told him sunshine yellow shined out of his soul.

Norkgrub climbed down from his large cushion-capsule and looked out at the crimson sky. The natural lysergic gases within the air gave everything here a euphoric feel. Norkgrub loved it, of course. Natural euphoria was all the rage. He didn't want to leave; he hated Earth and all of its petty laws. He was used to getting the best of everything in this realm. The zoophyte opened a small box - a small box he had hidden by an old Cacti-Mushroom tree for a couple of hundred years, or so; inside the box was Norkgrub's seed-shooter.

A fine weapon made from some kind of alien metal and refined by the Professor himself. He re-checked the lysergic gas free-flow dispenser and was content everything was in order. He plugged the gun to his seed-sacks, and felt that the gun was made for him.

"Looks like someone's going to have to bail you lot out if it gets out of control. Where can you find some decent cleaners these days?" Professor Norkgrub said to himself.

Another item inside the box was a strange furry crystalline communicator. It was called an e-pzi-astrl-comm-i. It was a personalized holo-communicator and differed from the ones seen in dubious sci-movies. This one actually turned a real entity into you while you using it. And possession was nine-tenths of the dimensional code.

"Guess I'm going to have that recycled. I don't think I can power up that old time-slide. I've been stuck here too long. Well, I suppose retirement has to end sometime. And I never got time to play a bit more of Fuzzy's Space Golf. Oh well, guess I'll just have to make do with that old-fashioned astral kick. I wish that crazy caveman turned up again!"

Norkgrub laughed. He was talking to himself a lot. Unfortunately, a permanent state of bliss creates this kind of flashback. And it usually occurred when one life-form only sees - and communicates with - another life-form every decade or so. And sometimes you see things,