Saturday, July 19, 2014

PROGRESSION TOWARD LUNA .... our unusual band visits a strange place..... 7/20/14

Space is quiet. When worlds collide there is no sound. And space is dark... an endless frigid void sprinkled with tiny, orbs representing various degrees of insignificance. Tomas sat by a window gazing at pinpoints of light, the distant hearts of remote planetary systems. He was silent, almost meditative.... a post-vampire lost among the stars. Such things he's seen... The exquisite tinkling fountains of the Caliphate of Cordoba... Elizabethan London.... dhows off The Yemen... Carnival in Venice. He was a vampire for roughly one thousand years and mortal for eighteen years before that. Now adrift... No trim, leather bootkins.... No finely tailored white shirts, black jeans, or other trademarks from those days. Vampires are vain, you know. Iberian aristocrats are too... Tomas de Macabea, also known as Jonathon ben Macabi, presently in a large, midnight skinned, triangular craft floating toward the lesser sister in our Earth-Moon binary system.

He thought about Philadelphia and all his plans... A better world... A spiritual place.... Magic and the mundane reconciled... An enchanted existence where science and the ethereal plane intersect. But now it was over. Power must be controlled. Magic is power and those immersed in it must be contained. Governments and the people behind them demand it. 

He was too vain. Not satisfied to be dead, or whatever that state was. So now Doctor Franklin's Anti-Enchantment Bureau is in adversarial hands. 'Enemy' wouldn't be the right term. They're our government after all and the self absorbed scion from Al Andalus refugees toward Luna..... Not the vampire-physician-protegee of Doctor Franklin, but the world she's named after. 

Crew members padded about, outfitted in those attractive, yet strange, trim, navy and white, Early American uniforms. And were they all really named Jedidiah, or Lucas, or Absalom? Doctor Franklin liked such conceits. Where'd the fresh flowers come from? And the 'Spanish Ladies' (goldfish)? Tomas picked up a decorative trinket from the dark, polished table beside him, some silver shape, maybe it was pewter. Then he opened his hand and let in drift back to the fine, ebony surface. There was gravity, just enough. Franklin never said where it came from.

The others were off somewhere. Onboard timepieces read 7PM. Perhaps they were dining? Sarah and Luna, being vampire, might ingest clear broth, or wine. They could have that. The blogger, Billy, is human. And although Doctor Franklin is a three hundred and seven year old, scientifically preserved 'Founding Father,' he's still essentially human too.

Odd that Tomas wasn't with them. He's human too now. But he has to think. You know how spiritual he is. There was a momentary hiccup. The ship changed direction... just a minute correction. But now he could see the Moon, a large, gray-silver globe... so sharp... so tuned in and precise. The ship drew closer. Where would they land?

He motioned toward a footman... a 'Rupert.' or an 'Eli,' or something and quietly asked - Where do we land? How will we live?..... But the well trained factotum just gave him a cool drink (in a spill-proof, sterling, sippy cup) and smiled.

They passed over the rim of a large crater... like a scene from Kubrick's 1968 epic. Tomas loved that film, even if his part in it was thirteen years too late. But the floor to the crater was not there. He still had a vampire's keen sense of perception. He knew where the surface should be, but it just was not there.

The space-faring craft, The Poor Richard descended down through the lunar crust... through a cylindrical portal round as a Mayan cenote ... flat and steady, like a giant elevator, finally entering into an impossibly immense expanse more than eighteen hundred miles across. And Tomas saw the green, moist, true face of the moon. Rivers traced lacy paths through ancient forests. There were towns. Well, at least he saw the lights. An orange radiance... a miniature sun occupying the space where the core should be, bathed all in a late day glow.

W-what is this thing? - whispered Tomas.....

Your new home, sir - said the Rupert, or Eli.

But the former vampire, who'd seen many things, just stared....

Not even Byzantium came close to this...

<more next time>


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