This World: Album One: the Wizzard of Desert Eend Album Two: the Wizzard of Mountains High Album Three: the King of Wise Decrees

PREHISTORY FOR THIS WORLD

In march of the year 2002, we were warned: A rock large enough to devastate an Earth city tumbled past us at a high rate of speed at approximately the same distance away as is our moon. No one saw it coming, for it came from the direction of our sun, which blinded the telescopes that may have been looking that way. I have read where only about 15% of the skies are interesting enough to watch. If you think we allowed ourselves to be open to terrorists from other countries, their worst deeds against us would be like playacting compared to what could sneak in from that other 85% of the heavens.

The earth shakes, then heaves. Five billion voices scream, or start to before their bodies vaporize. A few survive for minutes filled with agony. The loss of weight, eerie at first, leads a loss of breath into whatever awareness remains. Smoke fills what air is left, so black and dark that daylight disappears into a greenish void. Heat rises, tornados dip, lightning flashes, water boils away and then, in a month’s time, this dismal Hell attempts to freeze the life away from whatever has refused to already be dead.

The temperature drops past 60 below before the smoke subsides and settles into a new layer of enriched soil to cover the land. The water thaws and what has not been boiled away can form an ocean around the edges of This World. Some things have somehow survived the dismal months, life being their reward for cautiousness and the wisdom to answer their fear by hiding. A handful of human beings struggle to extricate themselves from pockets which had buried, but protected them. Their skin is scarred where it had been seared and broken. This World begins anew, different but alive after all.

This World, along with its moon, circles its star at an average speed of about 65-thousand miles per hour. A slower rock, a solid mass mostly the size of its moon, has blown away much of This World’s thin crust and slung its molten core into space. The rock will likely collect most of the iron and other materials from that core and use it to increase its own size, all of which now travels away from This World at about 45thousand miles per hour, looking for another hapless planet to rob. All that mankind had accomplished has gone, tumbled into the dust, available only as bits and pieces This World will heave up sometimes as the future ages pass. Ships arrive from space to view the damage, shrug at the grim hopelessness. Unaware that life has only greatly ebbed, they leave to find a new home.

This story may seem, to a casual viewer, to be a glib and unimportant unfolding of improbable events in settings lacking reality. I beg to differ with that kind of notion.

Look at the face of the moon tonight. Those blotches you see are evidence the moon has borne the brunt of many attacks from outer space against Earth. Look at the size of those blotches. The missiles that caused them were megaton rocketship rocks that impacted there as aeons passed. It once was thought that Earth’s atmosphere renders it immune to such phenomena. That idea has been proven very wrong. More than wrong, to deny it could be dangerous.

It has been told how Earth once had two moons. The one we know slowly eases away from our staring eyes, its paranoid face turned always to watch us until it can escape one day millions of years from now. Maybe that would seem like vapid information you’ll never be affected by, had the other never circled closer until Earth captured and swallowed it.

I have read where unimaginably great forces wrenched our moon from beneath the Pacific Ocean. The ocean filled the hole it left, that writer said, and the moon was set to sailing through the heavens. I don’t believe that’s true. Back away to look at the strange bulge in Earth’s northern hemisphere, and you’ll learn where the second moon hides opposite its point of intrusion like a child beneath a blanket, or still in its mother’s womb. Oceans have flowed to cover the crack lava has sealed shut at its point of entry. Continents, which at the time were a piece of encrusted scum floating on a molten stew, split and floated apart when it enlarged the interior for its residency. Lava has flowed to seal that crack shut, too, and still works hard to keep it that way while the broken mantle floats loosely about on a plasticized, semi-molten sub-layer. The moon likely took the larger portion of that scum into the interior with it. Being much smaller than its host planet, it had likely hardened by the time of its impact and so had the solidity required to perform this act in an enduring and forceful manner. The fully molten planet likely merely slopped its substance into the heavens when the slow-moving orb struck it, then settled back together in a larger way around the new resident in its bowels. It seems likely the moon partially melted in response to the new source of heat, and at the same time sped up the process of cooling the Earth had been undergoing, so that the misshapen ball’s new form became permanent.

Space is circular, a man named Einstein insisted. This makes it likely that conditions which once existed will recur when we return to the spot where all this happened. Large rocks lurk in space to await our eventual reappearance so they can rain megatons of destruction traveling tens of thousands of miles per hour upon us. Scientists know of many places our planet has already been struck, and recently observed this calamity actually occurring to another planet (Jupiter) in our system. Life as we know it, they tell us, would not continue here after one of these larger events. Life as it had been, they also informed us, discontinued when such events did take place here.

It appears obvious we are not the first set of human beings to wander across the face of this planet. We will not be the final act. Jungles will revive and flourish while heat dissipates after the smoke clears and light once again penetrates to newly refreshed soil. Modified apes with hotrod brains will live here again, who may somehow survive the calamity, or who may mutate due to strange conditions which must prevail at such a time.

Some people claim not to believe in such nonsense. What I believe is, Nature will keep trying until she gets it right. We are not her final act.

A BIT MORE HISTORY

The quest Our He and She had set out upon is not the one for which they became known. They wanted only to provide for themselves in a little hut built at the edge of Mountains High, where they could hide the fact of their illegal connubience in relative solitude. The demons of time would thwart their true desires as they do for all of humankind.

It started when The Wheel of the Seasons had turned to The Season of Maturity in the month of Sol, right at the beginning of the hottest part of any year in the cubical desert planet known as This World. As things had developed, being an Idiot in This World means more than just a statement of one’s lack of social status. One’s politics, religion, and entire way of life revolve around that determination. Even the spokes on The Wheel of Love position themselves according to it, and do not exist at all for those few appointed Normal.

From the ranks of the Idiots of This World poured forth all the Wytches, Wizzards, and Wizers to hold a convention at which attendance, it had been decreed, was required. A new Grand Wizer had been elected, and all must be present to recognize him, honor him, swear their allegiance to his guidance, which all would do without regret.

Although substantially fewer in their numbers, Normals hold the positions of true power and influence in This World. Being classed as Idiots required the Wytches, Wizzards, Wizers, and all others who might arrive to view the proceedings, to disobey the Normal Edicts which decreed Idiot gatherings to be illegal. In the middle of The Month of Sol, on the day of the convention, they performed the Last Great Repression. Being weaponless, the Idiots were routed. Many of their numbers were murdered, their leadership devastated, their unity publicly vaporized. Their cunning and determination to prove their worth as human beings capable of living to the fullest of their value, became forevermore escalated to the forefront of their group self-image and their views of themselves as individuals. After that day, sentences beginning with,It is (or,is not) Normal to…and Only and Idiot would… became stock cliches by which they would guide and define themselves. Only an heretic would choose to do the Normal things and, of course, only an Idiot would choose otherwise.

Our hero, named He, that being the Idiot convention for naming a member of the male gender until he could reach the point where he’d choose his own name (which most Idiots refused to do because they believed names imposed limitations), fell in love on an anniversary of that day.

Both blue-eyed and towheaded, they had often passed for brother and sister. She caused his insides to quiver whenever they happened to touch, or whenever, by some chance, they looked into each other’s eyes, all of which happened more often with the passing of time. Alas, He regretted that connubience, for Idiots, signified illegal sin…

Sin, a-a-a-h! Something to be pursued and enjoyed only by those deemed fit enough to be at the helm of things, who claimed to do them only because they had to. It’s a part of our jobs, they would claim, and then demand, How are we to know what we need to make laws and rules about, unless we do these things to find out? Who but an Idiot would aspire to freely perform the dirty deeds required of the great ones among us? Sin, not of the demons the Normals refused to recognize. Just sin, a thing for the Normals to grumble about.

Our He and Our She had found cause for touching many times of late, and increasingly often as the days passed. Tummy tickles seemed contagious, they decided after some discussion. The phenomenon had spread into other strange places on their persons. Hairs on the back of He’s neck had begun standing at attention whenever She drew near. Goose bumps would grow on his arms and, Our He took note, on her arms and breasts also. It seemed like the strange disease might induce the onset of sin and, since they could be punished for the mere consideration of it, they decided to go into hiding until they could figure out what to do. Sin, in This World, always poses a mighty threat, especially when most people learn what it is only after they’ve been busily enjoying it.

In Deep Mountains they patiently prepared their cabin. Plenty of building materials, left over from some previous civilization, existed for fabricating a home. They could find most of it by digging in the desert sands, or by waiting while the wind shifted dunes around to lay bare new discoveries.

They grew their cabin by adding boards, bricks, rocks as they found them, and with the help of many sand and rock wytches, and wood wytches passing by who’d trade labor and advice for a meal. They eventually performed the (for them) illegal rite of connubience: I love you, said Our He, to which She replied, I love you, too.

His breath grew unsteady while he shuddered and forced his lungs to continue working. Until death do us part, whether it be of our love or one of us, we shall be together as one and one in the joining of our diversities, said Our He as they hooked their forefingers together.

He noted the tightening feeling that had by now worked its way up until it threatened to squeeze him shut at the neck, had also apparently affected her. He gasped for a breath, and kissed the goose-bumps on her breasts in an effort to smooth them, which served no other cause than to provoke her nipples into growing erect. Until death do us part, whether it be of our love or one of us, she repeated as they locked their arms together, we shall be together a greater thing than the sum of our individualities.

Both gasped and choked to compel themselves to give utterance to their important words, while an invisible force crawled across their skins and penetrated to the depths of their nervous systems. May our love live longer than either of us, Our He said, which she forced herself to repeat as they locked their bodies together, against which they fought until they gave in and collapsed upon each other in a tangled, writhing heap. May we never part in a moment of ill temper. And so, the daemon called synergy took form between them while they remained oblivious to all else but their joy.

I’ve never done anything like this before, She panted, to which Our He added, Nor have I ever dared even to consider it. The goose bumps grew, drew them together, then exploded, never to be mentioned by either of them again.

Our He and She molded their cabin into an exquisite hovel, just perfect for him to do his wondering, and for her to help him; where an occasional other Idiot would show up to keep them company, and where Normals never seemed to bother them.

They built two fronts to the cabin. The top front faced up the mountain, and the front front faced the front. Of course, this did lead to a few problems until they grew accustomed to it, since a law in The Desert required people to leave their homes only by way of the back door, which they had neglected to provide, and enter only at the front.

The problem with the front doors didn’t take all that long to solve, according to the Idiot way of calculating time. During a moment of wild and abandoned whimsy, Our He decided to reconstruct a Black-Hole Room, chattering to She about how it would allow him to put a back door on both sides. Why not? She wondered, without giving it much thought.

Remembering a belief which claims that letting too much light into a Black-Hole room too suddenly would cause a darkening of the atmosphere, and sometimes an implosion as light rushes to fill the empty places, Our He drilled a hole in the Black-Hole room wall before he started the dismantling. That way, he hoped, a small amount of light could sneak inside and relieve any pressure. Better to be safe than sorry, Our He told She profoundly, even though Our He knew by heart the story of how the myth began, and of how scientists had wasted years trying to disprove it, by building hundreds of Black-Hole rooms of an instant-dismantling type, then tearing them apart only to be met with statements like ‘it must’ve not been completely dark inside it’, or ‘care to try for two out of three?’, or ‘who needs it?’ (which, I am told, means the same thing as ‘Oy, veh!).

And now, my friend, you can consider yourself to be as fully informed about the doings and goings-on of This World, as anyone else. Stay, listen to my tale, and maybe you’ll end up knowing just a little bit more than it’s Normal to allow.

Oh, and one other thing: Don’t be getting mad at me for calling regular folks a name like ‘Idiots’. I’m only the story-teller and, besides, we already have that word and don’t use it much anymore. Just pause to think, next time you feel like calling somebody an ‘idiot’, and realize it’s normal to be like that. You wouldn’t want to be guilty of doing something that made you mad at me, now would you?

THE WIZZARD of DESERT EEND

(The First Album of This World’s Idiots)

CHAPTER ONE

It won’t fit, Our He complained. Straining to work the unwieldy, barrel shaped heater into place forced him to stop several times to wipe salty sweat away from his eyes.

She held the door open to let some light in while he worked. Maybe you could jam it, She suggested. Our He stepped back again to wipe perspiration from his brow and think.

Holding the door open with her rump so she could dampen her own salt-burned hands with her spittle, she watched him draw back to rear against the unwilling tank. It popped into place as if by magic. That wasn’t so hard, Our He grinned, then sneezed when the hairs of his beard tickled his nose, as they always did when he moved his lips to smile. It felt like such a relief, I almost liked doing it.

Me, too, She agreed, laughing at his sneeze until he flicked dust at her. That’s naughty, she complained.

Ah! You’re all dirty, anyway.

And so are you.

Then I suppose we’ll have to find the swamp so we can take a mud bath, Our He grumbled. We’ll never get all this off with plain water.

Shouldn’t we lock the top front door? She worried. You can never tell, you know.

No one’s going to steal our light, Our He insisted. It’s just superstition anyway, to believe things like that…Besides, we don’t have anything else anyone would want, and there’s no one around to want it if we did.

I just don’t feel safe without the doors locked while we’re gone. She shuddered at the thoughts of shadows fleeing at the corners of her eyes, which turned invisible when looked at straight on. Sometimes, I don’t feel like we’re as alone as we think.

I guess it is better to be safe than sorry, He admitted, saying it for what must’ve been the hundredth time since they’d met.

Then let’s do it and go, She prompted, impatient from wishing He’d hurry. I just can’t wait to feel all that nice, sexy clean mud oozing over my skin!

Me, too! He agreed. Already feeling the slimy pleasures to be found in the desert swamp, Our He prodded himself into a quickened pace to vanquish a feeling that something hidden hovered around them. Glimpses of something flitting away from the corners of his eyes, imaginary or real, had drawn his attention too many times to stay meaningless. He avoided mentioning it to She.

The Desert Swamp is a place where water boils up through the sands and forms a hot, muddy bog. It drains into a creek where, if no Normals are around, they will go to rinse in more tepid waters in one of the pools. They would expect to be bullied and harassed by Normals if they’d insist on mixing with them, for the Normals (Can you imagine?) insisted upon wearing garments while they’d bathe.

She shivered in the relative coolness of the air over the mud while she took her turn plastering his body. Do you think we’ll ever get to make the radio-box work? She asked. She loved rubbing mud into He’s blond hair, and watching it slowly ooze down over his face to create a misshapen version of his appearance.

He’s blue eyes peered studiously back at her, as though through two holes cut into a plaster mask. I don’t know, he decided after a moment’s thought. After all, we still have to reassemble that piping, then put the Black-Hole room back together, and cut the walls for the side back doors so we can put them together. Our little project has become more work than I expected.

That sounds like it could take months. She sighed with the warm pleasures she felt, then jumped up, startled, while a look of horror crossed her face. It seemed like the light had a shadow in it, which disappeared upon the act of looking at it, like a shadow can be seen on the ground, but cannot be seen in the light that it passes through. Except, when she looked, she saw no shadow. Do you ever feel like someone’s watching us? she asked, studying his face inquisitively to see if her own growing dread might be echoed under all that mud she’d plastered there.

Yes, Our He admitted. He hadn’t known about She’s awareness of an apparition, and realized she’d felt too uncertain to mention about it. A frown creased his forehead while he watched bubbles squeeze up through the mud between his toes.

She smoothed away a lump that had formed on his cheek.I think we should build the radio-box first.

So do I, Our He admitted, but I don’t know why.

Me, neither, She agreed, then turned her attentions back to the pleasures of her bath.

It took a few long days to reassemble the cabin. Sealing all the light out of the Black-Hole room seemed to be their biggest problem.I don’t know where it’s coming from, She complained, and Our He agreed, But every time I go in there, no matter what we do, I can still see!

But I can’t find any leaks,Our He insisted.Not a one!—and there’s even light in there at night.

Then, maybe we shut the door too quickly to let it all out, She suggested, then frowned while she wondered how that could be.Maybe we could leave the door open after dark tonight. Maybe it would go away then.

Oh, drat! Our He grumbled. All I really wanted to accomplish was to build a radio-box, and I still have to put the side back doors on before I can do that. And now this is stumping me! How can I win?

Yes, the radio-box is too important to put off, She murmured. Maybe the side back doors can wait while we do that.

But if we get any guests it’ll be illegal for them to leave, Our He reminded her. We’d never get the radio-box built if that happened!

Then we’ll just have to be patient,She sighed.But,I do wish it did-n’t feel like such an urgent thing for us to finish.

Well, there’s no use wasting time talking about it while we do nothing but dawdle, Our He snapped, feeling angry that all their choices