“As with many a civilization, the Sequestrans, in developing a way of life over a long period that was dependent on natural resources, began to realise that their planet was approaching a time when it could no longer sustain them. Towards the end of their planet’s life, having failed in their efforts to find a suitable alternative planet to colonise, genetic experiments carried out by their Science Elite led to the rapid evolution of a fundamentally different Sequestran lifeform. In effect some Sequestrans became ‘body-less’ ethereal beings, with a high intellect and simple resource needs.”
“However, whilst the ethereal beings no longer needed an atmosphere to breathe or nutrients to live, they depended on what we now call Quark Energy to maintain themselves. An renewable, limitless form of energy that they were able to harness through the continuous movement of matter from one location in the Universe to another.”
I interjected at this point asking,
“So are you saying that these beings, that I can’t see, drive their energy for life by moving people up down and around Quark holes?”
“Yes, basically that’s it,” responded Cat, “but mostly they do it by moving inanimate objects and indeed prefer that. However on occasions things go wrong and they get the occasional lifeform sucked into their Quark hole network. When more than one lifeform gets caught up in the same Quark hole then accidents like yours can happen. Then it’s the Postmaster’s job to try to sort it out.”
“Hmmm, Ok I kind of get it but it’s a bit word. I mean what a way to live. No wonder the Postmaster doesn’t seem to have much appreciation of the significance of my willy. I mean how could he in his current ethereal form?”
Cat clapped his paws to the side of his head and through gritted whiskers said very sarcastically,
“Can I please finish the background to all this before you lament any further on the loss of your subsidiary brain?”
I made a further indignant grunting sound before gruffly responding,
“Go on then you unsympathetic inanimate.”
To be continued…….
The Sequestran Story Unfolds
”Well,” started Cat, “during this period the number of semi-permanent settlers on the Moon rose to well over 5000. Until 2056 everything seemed fine. In addition to the settlers, over 10,000 inhabitants of Earth spent a minimum of one week a year traveling to and then exploring sites of interest on the moon.”
“Then, in late 2056, a group of tourists disappeared without trace whilst out on a half day picnic scientific excursion to the Sea of Tranquility. Investigations by the local police and then the Space Patrol found no trace of the tourists or their lunar carrier. Tours were suspended for several months but eventually re-opened. In July of 2057 a distress call to Earth from the main base on the moon, The Armstrong Centre, led to a battalion of space cadets heading to the moon at breakneck speed. The distress call described large sections of the Armstrong Centre disappearing into the surface of the moon.”
An advance guard of the space cadets got there in under 4 hours and found no trace of the moon base. Just over a week later, Earth’s military forces discovered an underground alien stronghold that had been built on the Moon, sometime between the late 20th Century and the time when humankind had returned to the Moon, by the ultimately named ‘Sequestrans’.
After a fairly short battle, the Sequestrans on the moon were all apparently destroyed. There were not many of them. As a species, they appeared to have the capability to adsorb matter into their bodies. Individually they could do this on a small scale but when they worked collectively they could adsorb large structures. This was discovered during the early skirmishes between them and the space cadets when all sorts of large destructive devices just vanished.”
To this day Earth is not sure where the Sequestrans actually came from. There were no signs of any spaceship that they may have used to land on the Moon and no records, that could be identified, of their history.” Cat then paused and I chipped in with,
“Wow,” followed by the inevitable question of “What happened next?”
To be continued………..
Cat Proposes to Speak on my Behalf
“This is a Sequestran sorting station,” said Cat, “you see the Sequestrans are a benign ethereal like civilisation. They mean no one any real harm. However to survive, effectively to breathe, they need molecules and atoms to flow continuously through their quark holes. You see once upon time their home planet ‘Sta’ provided enough of the kind of energy they needed to take in for their ‘bodies’ to function properly. When their planet started to fail their scientists discovered that by harvesting the functionality of quark holes, and through moving inanimate matter molecules through such holes, they could artificially generate the energy type they needed to live.”
“Ok so basically what you’re saying is ‘what’ exactly in relation to how I get my Willy back?” I enquired.
Cat stared back at me with an incredulous slant to his whiskers saying,
“Have you not been listening at all you tailed moron? This is a quark hole sorting station. It’s where the Sequestrans do their best to sort out any animate objects or twits like you that happen to get sucked into one of their quark holes by mistake and jumbled up.”
“Ok,” I said, “I sort of understand the mixing up of bits because I remember about Fastmove on Earth. But I didn’t fall into that hole with a Mudlizard did I?”
“No you didn’t,” said Cat. “My guess is that their quark holes all connect up in one massive complex network and that a Mudlizard got sucked in somewhere else at around the same time as you did. Then unfortunately, your respective molecules got mixed up a bit at some junction point in the network. The Sequestran monitors picked this up and have brought you both here to try and sort you out. Personally though I would say you’re way past sorting out. And actually, you look alright with a tail,” added Cat.
Cat hovered rapidly upward as I swished my new appendage around my body in his direction, before saying,
“Look, just tell me what we do next. I want my bits back.”
“Surely it’s obvious isn’t it?” said Cat, “we need to ask the Sequestran sorting attendant at this station for help. Simple.”
“Right. So where is he, she or it?”
“All around us boss, all around us,” whined Cat.
I screwed my face up and said, “What do you mean, all around us?”
“I told you. The Sequestrans are an ethereal civilisation. They exist dispersed in what we perceive as the space around us,” said Cat in an exasperated tone.
“Right. So basically I can’t see them.”
“Nope,” said Cat.
“Well how the sprokus am I going to speak to them then if I can’t see them you mangey machine?” I grumbled.
“I cannot and do not therefore get ‘mange’ you twerp. And you cannot speak to them which in my view is very lucky for the Sequestrans. I shall speak to them on your behalf.”
Oh good grief I thought. Now I’m really in trouble……
End of Chapter 3
“I have been working on refining my Father’s work for some time and have concluded that he was almost correct in his proposals,” Cat began. He then continued after a short overly dramatic pause,
“It is very clear that worm holes can be used to move from place to place in the universe very rapidly though, as far as we know, no one has been able to do this in any fully controlled manner. However my Father was quite convinced that the Sequestran incursion on the moon in 2056 had something to do with worm holes. However he also detected during his experiments ‘quarklet’ energy bursts, previously never detected around any known worm holes. Based on the residual decay patterns of these energy bursts he was able to show some correlation between the disappearance of objects and people on the moon with peak quarklet energy levels. Unfortunate though he became too distracted by the Mudlizards to complete his work, which I picked up on about 2 years ago. My deliberations had led me to the point of submitting a collection of thoughts to the International Academy of Astroscience, postulating the existing of quark holes.”
Oh Saints of the Universe save me I thought. When Cat started to use words like ‘postulate’ I knew I was in for a long stream of ‘sciobabble’ as I liked to refer to it. I almost started to think it might be best just to forget about my Willy and begin to forge psycho-meaningful connections between my limbic brain and my new tail as quickly as possible. In an effort to head this to much postulation off, I said to be Cat,
“In the interests of getting us the heck outta here, wherever here actually is, do you think you could get to the point?”
I then quickly added as a cleverly disguised but largely disinterested afterthought,
“I mean it’s really terrific of course that you are publishing scientific thoughts , especially at your young age, and the astroscientific world will I know be thrilled by your latest publication but, what does a quickhole mean in practice my dear Cat?”
“Quarkhole you moron. Quarkhole.” replied Cat drily.
“Yes, yes of course. I meant Quarkhole,” I said, “but what has one of those got to do with my missing will and new tail?”
To be continued……..
The Work of Cat’s Father, ‘Cat’
Just as naturally, as I expected, Cat positively bristled with joy as he realised he now had the ‘explaining’ stage. He began his explanation in his usual superior manner, like the Head Avatar at a private school. Head up, tail up, whiskers flared and at absolutely maximum length, he postured as the best would, before speaking his first words on the matter.
“This is more than a worm hole. There is a scientific, astrophysicology theory actually first put forward by my Father, Cat.”
“Oh good grief,” I said, having had a horrible feeling ‘he’ would be somewhere in all of this.
“Please do tell me about Daddy’s theory,” I continued ever so sarcastically.
Cat immediately bristled some more, sweeping his whiskers even further back before spitting, “If you’re going to take that kind of supercilious attitude towards the pioneering work of my Father, I will stop with any explanation right now!!”
As Cat paused I thought to myself that my recollections of Cat’s Father’s experimental work were ones that usually involved me in stress, anguish, embarrassment and all too frequently pain, as he tried experimenting to prove one point or another. However, I also thought that strategically it would not be wise whilst in my current tailed and ‘willy-less’ state, to rile Cat with my opinion of his Dad’s scientific prowess. So I lied blatantly and as expertly as ever, saying,
“No, no, no. Not at all. My opinion of your Father’s scientific prowess is of the highest order. I don’t believe though he ever told me about any theory linked with worm holes. I expect he was being typically modest and didn’t want to take up my time with long explanations of sciences which of course I couldn’t possibly understand. He was so considerate in that respect.”
Oh my, talk about tacky treacle tattle to get your way. I was laying it on thicker than the average asteroid belt. But it worked, as I knew well it would from previous experience with the ‘ego’ of the Universe.
Cat duly responded, “Well ok then. I shall continue. But please do not interrupt.”
“Of course not,” I said as seriously as I could.
To be continued…….
It’s not just about Peeing
“Excuse me,” I said rather indignantly, “I hardly think a rubber binary number cruncher can be expected to understand the significance of that particular item of equipment to a man. It isn’t just about peeing. There are other things you know, simply about ‘being’. A man without his willy is like a hovercar without the autopilot. And,” I added, “will you please use the correct anatomical term. It’s willy, NOT penis. Saying ‘penis’ makes it sound so, so….’functional’.
“Oh my apologies,” said Cat rather sarcastically, “perish the thought that any part of you, or rather, an apparently former part of you, should be considered functional.”
This exchange, as annoying as it was, had distracted me from the fact that I now had a tail but no willy. To think, when I had left home to go to the police Skystation, all my bits were in order. Less than half a day later I was a phenotypic mess.
“What are we do to Cat?” I implored of my artificial companion, “what are we to do?” I repeated pitifully.
“Well,” said Cat, adopting a rather superior and greater tone, “what we mustn’t do is panic. We must stay calm whilst I process and calculate.”
“That’s easy for you to say,” I responded in apparently perfect Mudlizard. “You haven’t lost your willy.”
“How could I?” responded Cat, “I don’t have one.”
“Exactly,” I said somewhat triumphantly, “You don’t have one. So how could you possibly understand the significance of the loss? I mean, how would you feeliof you lost an antenna for example?”
“Oh for goodness sake,” spat Cat, I’m not a 21st Century digital radio you know. I don’t have antennae!!”
“AHH but if you were you would realise how essential an antenna was to you functioning,” I responded.
Cat struck a kind of hovering ‘front paws on haunches’ pose as he looked down at me and spoke,
“Look, if I were a 21st Century digital radio I am sure that I would regret, if I happened to be a digital radio with a brain, losing my antenna. I agree with you there. For the proper functioning of such a device, my memory banks tell me that an antenna was quite important. However, those same memory banks, looking back through the annals of human anatomical history, do not afford the same level of essentiality to the penis for effective human function.”
“Well that’s just nonsense and it would seem obvious to me that the annals of human anatomical history must have been largely put together by people clueless as to the contribution of a Willy to one’s well being.”
To be continued………..
Where’s my Willy?
Suddenly, something seriously scary struck me. Where was my willy? In the fastest reflex reaction since Spaceman Steve outdrew the OuterSpace Oktopuss in the Black Hole Battle for the Brown Dwarf, what a great movie that was, I clutched fearfully with both hands between my legs. I then cried out loud as I realised there was nothing there and sank to my knees holding what felt like a very very very pre-pubescent lower abdomen. Sinking to my knees was not the best thing to do in the circumstances as I was now kneeling in what was apparently my own puddle of extremely pungent pee.
As my nose screwed up in horror, the obviously bad news about my willy rattled around the limbic part of my brain, or at least I presumed it was still my brain. The emotional shock manifested itself in what can only be described as a glass shattering, almost operatic howl.
As I screamed, Cat hovered much higher than usual and moved back away from me, whiskers flared. It was unusual for him to exhibit shock but he seemed genuinely surprised by the noise I managed to emit.
“What on Planet Pzzxamix was that noise? I’ve never heard anything like it,” cried Cat, “honestly, that was enough to waken the Dead of Dardalus 14. Was it really necessary?”
I tried to speak a reply but even in the gutteral Mudlizard gibberish language I was speaking it came out quite screechily as,
“I’ve lost my willy. I’ve lost my willy. You’re a robot Cat of indeterminate sex, if indeed robots have sex, I mean ‘a sex’. You simply wouldn’t understand how vitally important a willy can be to a chap.”
At least, that’s what I heard in my head. As I say it all came out of my mouth as Mudlizard gibberish and I have no idea if there was a word in Mudlizard for willy, especially as I had no idea if Mudlizards had such items of personal equipment. If they did it certainly wasn’t obvious to me, at this point, where it might be.
Anyway Cat seemed to get what I had screeched as he responded,
“I think a penis can hardly be considered to be an essential. At least not in the 23rd Century on Earth. Ask any gynaecologist and I feel sure they would agree with me.”
To be continued……….