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A Fistful of Quanta

By Nicky Nustar All Rights Reserved ©

Humor / Scifi

Chapter 1 - The soul vortex of a God King

Tess rolled over on the bed and beamed a profound smile. Her essence, was his cathexis.

“To boldly go where no man has gone before... And be back in time for bed”.
That was about the size of it.
T-Minus is over. Launch has begun. Subliminally so far. But the gears are in motion.
I am entering the vortex in pursuit of further perspectives. Papyrus fingers being one.
What I mean by ‘papyrus fingers’; is when one is so stoned and slightly drunk, that the fingers change physical state via the sense of ‘touch’. They become ultra soft and floaty, like velvet. They FEEL completely different... They literally change state. They languish the qwerty array, and smother delicately every button with super soft flow. Matter itself... alters...
Each time I’ve attained that state, which is about five times now in a lifetime, I always think:
“Papyrus fingers,” and wonder if my typed words then become holy. (?).
They even look different, a beautiful shade of golden brown, and slightly mottled with star dust. It’s absolutely exquisite a sensation, and there is absolutely no fear, for perfect love casts out fear, and ‘love’ is not a sexual organ.
“Standing by... Rogue Unit... What’s your position?”
Phase One complete. One small spliff, one lager.
Rather than repeating myself for the duration of this experiment, each ‘phase’, of x value of phases, is a ‘spliff and a can of Kronenbourg 1664’.
I must tell you this not to boast, but for purposes of science and research into the Space Program.
There is nothing to boast about drinking and smoking... But what I ‘seek’ via these conduits of altered states generators... is the ‘portal’... ‘The soul dilation’... ‘The cosmic union with the universal quanta’... ‘The marriage with God’... ‘The luxury of powerful, brimming sentience’... ‘The adore of space angels’... ‘The very apex of survival on the edge of space time’... And all these wondrous sentiments, with plenty more...
Yes... I feel I know what it is like to experience a miracle.
“Phase One complete... do we go immediately to Phase Two?”
Let’s just check those texts that have just come through on the comms patch.
‘Reality’ might be causing hassle in the space time continuum.
Shiiiiiiit... It’s Daddio.
Could be in trouble.
He’s giving me a lecture.
Damn... The senses have been revoked from their star trajectory, by this infernal haranguing.
I was coasting on a perfect flight plan before this...
Now we’ll definitely have to shift to Phase Two... Hang what my father thinks! He doesn’t know the full extent of the profundities of my mission. The sacred duty I must perform.
He doesn’t care for Jesus or God.
I do! Big time!
And boy oh boy, is this world in trouble because of it.
Right... I’m caught at a bifurcation of decision...
I want to enact Phase Two immediately... but I’ve been stalled... By father... The loving provider.
Damn... What to do? If only brother Nateus was here to enforce an intoxicated guffaw.
He’d know what to do...
Shit... Got to take stock. Think... I’ve already started the mission... So I can’t turn back now.
Do I expedite the mission’s velocity by immediately launching into Phase Two?
I have little choice... I am fretting now... Oh Papa... You may have jeopardised this week’s experimental quest to the stars... Yesterday was PERFECT for me... I did no wrong... I spent it relaxing in the sun with the family children in a beautiful garden, and then we made an epic film about a Mission to Mars in my V-Dub spaceship.
STILL HE MOANS AND BELITTLES ME... Yet we had orchestrated Heaven on Earth!
Even if but for a glimpse within eternity.
I shall endeavour to continue to consult the prophecies on a daily basis for moral correction.
But not today, today is a day off... And I’m launching my dream space ship...
No one can stop me from doing this. This is what I live for, and love, and yes, I fundamentally believe in some form of God...
For only he could give me a halo... Which he did...
So, even though intoxicants are perhaps not wise to some... I say this;
“Yay... Drunkenness is not wise... But it is not a Hellfire sin. And cannabis is a gift from God”.
When you combine the cannabis with ‘moderate amounts of lager over a sustained period of time’ – the dual matrimony can be ephemerally sublime to the soul.
This is why people get addicted. It’s the only medicine that truly works.
You simply begin to feel wonderful, and alive, and filled with powerful sensations of love, wonder, mystery, and... I admit... Some confusion...
Often hilarious confusion at that, in fact.
The confusion is not ‘stupid’. The confusion is ‘perfectly sensible’.
How on EARTH can a human being begin to make sense of ‘existence’?
Think about it for once in your Goddamn lives...
‘Reality’ – filled, as it is, with many truths and perspectives, stationed somewhere in cognito ergo sum, on a beautiful planet orbiting a gargantuan ball of fire in the middle of quasi-infinite nowhere.
And you expect me to believe ‘ANYONE’ has omniscience? Aside possibly from a God?
Fuck you!
(“To coin a popular 60’s counterculture barbarism... I apologise for my momentary lapse of reason and foul tongue”).
Not even the angels are omniscient! Bible says so!
This world... This universe... is FULLY OPERATIONAL... and I intend to try to enjoy my days, without carnal sin, in some form that might benefit my diurnal experience.
So... Here it is... And it’s only 11:14am... Shiiiiiiit... I’m still thrown to doubt... What do I do?
“Launch Phase Two Nustar... This was your big idea... This is what you wanted to achieve today... You wanted to enter the quantum vortex and write an epic piece about it... So do it... It’s too late to turn back now, and you’re committed... Let it go... Let it go...”
My conscience had given me correct instruction, or so I thought. It was a one off. It had to be.
And yet, I was recalled of our brother’s quote from the age of 16-19 when we arrived at an exciting idea...
We’d both say, in perfect unison:
“It has to be done...!” And do it.
This got us into no end of juvenile scrapes... but boy, it was fun.
I digress... Already I feel this mission is in jeopardy, because of those damn texts. My soul has been tainted by the disproval of innocent behaviour. I now fear a family member will phone me later on during the mission, and I will be too far gone into the cosmos to communicate coherently.
And Lo, and Verily,
The detritus will hit the wind turbine... Again.
He’s bummed me out, the swine...
There’s only one thing for it...
Initialise Phase Two. I’m even getting angry now due to this error in the ships program.
I must temper my emotions. Not allow this early breech of flight plan to disturb me too much.
This write was meant to be about ‘dilating soul portals’.
Not bitterness and resentment, inferiority or inadequacy.
We’re seeking SOUL SHINE brothers and sisters...
It’s what I want to share with the world of mortals.
“Copy that... Phase Two is go...”
It had begun to shift gear slightly. Good. The higher trajectory plan was working again, but it had received a serious blow to the original proposition.
There was still hope... DON’T WORRY.
Everything is under control by ‘The Genii’.
Just sit back... Inspect Google for things which may arouse your wonders,
And know...
“The Genii” are in full control, and they are NOT atheists...
We’d all have been nuked by now if atheists were in control.
Thank God for the God of nukes...
The global peace makers...
The Hellfire and Brimstone equivalent in a secular world,
Against the evil, and the unjust.
This is why ISIS absolutely deserves to be nuked.
But on that subject, I digress.
Military strategy is purely a hobbie of mine.
Not a job.
Therefore, I’m allowed to employ strategies that might not be democratically elected,
As I play my holy games with Earthly mortals...
And their hideous ways of saying ‘ALLAH AKBAR!’
Before cutting someone’s head off...
The sick cunts.
And there is no better description for them than that.
Even the Bible would call them that in their own way:
They’d just say something like:
“Heathen chaff...”
Which is the same thing... But in alternate parlance of the same massive mother tongue, ‘English’.
The world’s language. The very sacred word of God in Biblical form in over ten versions.
Forget your studies of history for once. History isn’t the only thing to make one clever in this world you know.
Forget the wars and unjust oppressions of the ancient British Empire globally...
And just think what they BROUGHT to you...
Rather than took away...
“The universal and sacred knowledge of ‘The English Language’.”
ALWAYS... (And this is good advice):
“Own an O.E.D. and a decent Thesaurus.”
The dinosaur of lexicons.
Both fantastic works of art,
And the precise definition of ‘life’ in the Oxford English Dictionary is:
“The active principle of existence.”
THEREFORE, apply ‘love’ to the active principle of existence...
And you generate...: Purpose.
Now we’re cooking. Now we’re rolling. Now we’re onto what the whole massive shebang in life is about.
What is your primary directive soldier? You think you comprehend Nietzsche or voodoo? You know how to make me a cinematic masterpiece? Could you beat me at chess? What you got for me kid?
“He’s broken through using faith... He’s developing a scenario in his mind with a character...”
Jimmy was staring deep into the machine which registered Nustar’s progress.
“What’s the character’s name?!” inquired Clyde Banks.
“Jango... But his surname ain’t ‘Fett’, Boss...”
“Jango? Bill Jango? From that brilliant movie about the Illuminati warriors?”
“I want to say ‘that’s the one’, but honestly... who is to really say why he’s called ‘Jango’? Perhaps his mother didn’t truly love him?”
“Possibly... We’ll have to ponder upon this rock and consult the stars... What do you see Jimmy?”
“The impossible, immaculate infinite... As usual... No other way to explain it really... But I see Hubble is still going great guns, and the rest... Hey! Have you heard of the Nustar project? It’s real... Another massive golden telescope in space...”
“Far out dude...”
“Absolutely word.”
“I’m hearing yer...”
“This is amazing...”
“Good... His senses are definitely returning to a more positive state... He’s generated one portal, he can do it again...”
“But he’s not as strong as he once was...”
“Don’t you believe it... He’s still mighty as they come... He just doesn’t believe in violence...”
“Then what DOES he believe in?”
“Global peace and financial security for all.”
“It’s simple enough, and he believes it’s possible...”
“He thinks in part it already is that way for millions, so why not millions more? Education, education, education... And appreciating what one has, rather than what one wants.”
“Ya vol Mein Fuhrer...”
“That’s not funny...”
Goddamn it... Did anyone even get that joke? Possibly not. The internet moved at such a rapid speed that world leaders and their maxims like Antonius Blair and his rock and roll legacy were soon forgotten.
Who can forget the pure ‘hilarity’ of learning Tony was in a rock band?
“Ugly rumours” was their name.
Perfect for a time. Best leader this country had...
For a time...
But then oh woe ye children of earth... Do not vote Labour, I urge of thee...
If only you knew the global suffering that man ultimately created for millions of people.
It’s why I never fully trusted him, although, to be fair, he did throw a massive party.
And we’re still not all fighting World War Three...
So it’s not THAT bad. It could be an x to the power of countless zeros how bad it ‘could be’.
So let us give thanks, repent once again, and pray, while Phase Two begins to moan and buckle beneath the inordinate pressure of detailing virtually every second of true conscious thought that arises in the cranium of the enlightened one. ‘The coder’.
We press on...
“Take five guys... He’s still working on the plan...”
“What’s he going to do?”
“You’ll find out soon enough... Just be cool... He has a way out of this... For some...”
“Jimmy... Just experienced mild tinnitus...” said Nustar, riding the ship reverberations.
“Don’t worry... Remember... You’re warping your senses for the benefit of mankind. It will clear... It’s just part of the transition phase...”
“Copy that...”
~ A plume of sacred pearls was imagined wafting by his mind’s eye... Then there was silence for a moment.
“You still there Jimmy? It’s getting kinda lonely out here... I think the decompression is starting to kick in...”
“Jesus Nustar, you’re way off course... Get back online...”
“I can’t do it... My father... My blessed loving father... He always bums me out by treating me like shit...”

The moment flashed to Jimmy on the terminal at Mission Control.

Jimmy whispered to his nearest Mission Control confident:

“Get Tess on the phone... He’s not going to make it to the stars on this voyage... He’s going to need counselling...”
“Come on Jimmy... It’s Commander Nustar... He’ll make the mission grade... Just might take a little more time, as usual...”
“Goddamn it I hope you’re right,” replied Jimmy.

He released his doubtful palm from the mouthpiece.

“Nustar... I personally think you’re fucked... but we’re continuing with the mission... Would you like Tess to contact you?”
“No... It’s okay... I’m cool... I’ve seen something...”
“What? What have you seen?”
“Phase Three... I’ve remembered the secret of my mission...”
“The secret of your mission? What are you talking about Nustar?”
“It’s only when you arrive at ‘obliteration point’ on a full on session... Is it that something tends to happen...”
“We don’t want to see you die young Nustar, that’s why we do not advise this course of action...”
“I have to do it Boss... Just once... Just to show what I’m truly made of...”
“Goddamn you massive handsome maverick... Okay... Continue...”
The ‘sacred word’ (‘Continue’) had been repeated by Mission Control.
Continue it would be... But this was the problem with Commander Nustar... When he got excited about a mission, he tended to amp the velocity to incredulous levels... and sometimes... only sometimes... place members of his crew back at Mission Control in danger... You know the ones... The wooly woofters who panic at the site of a man roaring in the streets.
“Yes Nustar... We just received your positive word on the higher frequencies... GO FOR IT FLY BOY!”
- Could it be done... Could Nustar use what was left of his aged intelligence to alter the course of history of man toward a more positive goal than all out war?
It HAD to be done... YES it was feasible... YES it was a colossal dream... But HOW? HOW... For EVERYONE? So that no one dies, and no one goes to Hell, and no one suffers anymore?
“Quit ye dreaming kid... You can’t prevent the damned from going to Hellfire for eternity... It is written in the prophecies...”
Damn... It was Dred... The lawman of South American historical horror...
But it wasn’t Judge Dredd... Soz... You’re thinking the wrong character.
This Dred was from Alabama, and he wore a cloak and a large cowboy hat, tilted just off the sinister gaze of his discerning eyes.
“I hope you are behaving yourself there Nustar... Wouldn’t wish to see a believer like you fry...”
“Jimmy... I’m getting flashbacks of a character I created years ago...”
“What’s going on Nustar... what do you mean?”
“It’s Dred... Jud Dred... He’s freaky... And I’m getting nervous... He’s a biblical expert.”
“What do you want to do?”
“There’s nothing I can do... He was a Sheriff of Nottingham Town County in a vicarious period of American history who knew the Bible like the back of his hand, and never brought sin to the community... I could never beat him on ethics... Yet he kept a myriad of men, some relatively innocent, in horrendous prisons. He’s returned... I’m buggered... Absolutely done for... Miles out here in space all alone...”
“Nustar... Think... It’s all in your mind... How can a character YOU generated be in the ship with you now?”
“Like ghosts of mind truth through the quanta, Sir...”
“Goddamn it Nustar... There’s no way we can abort the mission now... You do know that don’t you?”
“Yes sir... Yes sir I do...”
“Good... Then try to focus for Christ’s sake... We’re only on Phase Two, and you’re already going doolally... Play 5D chess or something, ‘try to regain your focus on the missions primary objective’.”
“Copy that... Initialising Phase Three...”

Phase Three had begun with a solution by Nustar to the problem.

Of course! Something crap was bound to happen! Murphy’s traditional law! But no matter... WE had overcome... And so... There was reason to doubt the very source of the problem in the first place... Nustar’s Dad didn’t know what he was truly doing. It was a top secret government mission, dagnammit... and it was only down to Nustar to save the day. If his father wanted to be powerless in this world, and not communicate a dream solution to the masses, then so be it.
Nustar had a raison d’etre.
A vocation.
And he was going to live it dagnammit, even if it killed him.

The ship engines continued to murmur...

‘Freud... Was alphabet spaghetti’.

“Jesus Christ Nustar... We’ve just got your latest dispatch at sector 302.223.893... Radii 5.3 orbit... What the SHIT is that meant to mean?”
“What sir?!”
“Freud... was alphabet spaghetti...”
“Don’t know so... But they were my findings... So far... Pure honest consciousness emitting at a still semi-literate level, SIR... I have NOT jeopardised the mission, SIR...”
“Okay, I’ll get my best men trying to crack the mystery... Thanks...”
“Just doing my job...”


Gracious... It was like the voice of some higher dimensional God had just spoken.
Nustar sobered up a morsel and watched his focus on the head-up display.
“I think I just picked up a higher dimensional signal Mission Control...”
“And? How do you know?”
“That part of my mind rarely functions... It’s like an alternate frequency of thought... a higher frequency... From another place in the universe... Just accessed my mind, possessing alternative attributes... Attributes I’ve not really sensed before...”
“Why do you think that happened Nustar?”
“Because I’m continuing with the Mission, and the star angels know what I’m up to... I’m bound to start getting alternative messages... They know I’m plugged in to the cosmos...”
“Okay... Is there anything we can do?”
“No... I’ll just have to enact Phase Four... and see what happens...”
“Okay... G.F.I.”
“Copy that...”.

~ A minor aeon passed, as the craft continued to drift through deep space. All alone. Light years away from a McDonalds.

“The rendering is absolutely perfect...”
“What’s that Nustar?”
“I’m beginning to portalise... It’s not overly wow yet, remember, the mission experienced initial flight damage... but it’s definitely ‘improved’... I’m beginning to sense ‘the perfection’.”
“How do you know?”
“I can feel it, it’s all around me... I’m getting some early stages of soul shine... and my thoughts are no longer based on planet Earth at all... I’m fully dilated now Mission Control... No need to worry.”
“Okay... Now remember... It is once you’re fully dilated that we want you to push yourself with maximum truth detailing precision... Do you think you can do it?”
“I think I can still function... It’s beautiful man... I can see and feel forever here...”
“Good! Now get that message back to the scientists... But only in the way you know how... They’re desperate to learn more, and the children of Earth are depending on you to find a way...”
“Okay. I’m on it”.

There was a silence for the passing of a dwarf moon. Then:

“Mission control... I’ve done it... I’ve discovered an epic new wave concept...”
“Really? What?”
“Hot sex rock ninjas...”
“Really? Is that it?”
“Wait... There could be more... But it’s good... Damn good...”
“What is...?!?!”
“This vision of hot sex rock ninjas... It’s perfectly superb in its own vision... I’ve never seen anything like it before... I can safely say I am still committed to world peace... And that funky bassline! FAB!”
“He’s tripping on something... Clyde... Did you put something into his drip feed?”
“No I did not... Just perfect level glucose supplement...”
“Okay, I believe you... Goddamn it... Why does Nustar have to go off on these intergalactic tangents...?”
“It’s how he got the job in the first place Jimmy...”
“Oh yeah... RIGHT... NUSTAR... DON’T REPORT BACK UNTIL YOU’VE GOT SOMETHING THAT I CAN USE POLITICALLY AGAINST ALL EXTREMIST MOVEMENTS ON PLANET EARTH. Whilst I’m very pleased to hear you’re enjoying your trip out there, I’m not sure ‘Hot sex rock ninjas’ is going to get us all out of this issue, okay?”
“How do you know? They might be female messiahs of funk rock from the Orient on a mission to spread love to a new breed of generation...”
“Yes... And they might be psychotic demons from Hell for all we know... STOP WATCHING MTV, and give me feedback on the rapid density photon gauging system...”
“You know I don’t know how that works, Sir...”
“It’s not part of my reason for joining the Space Program, Sir...”
“To find the access point of Heaven sir...”
“And you really think you can do that without my highly advanced technology?”
“I don’t understand all that data shit bro, I ‘feel and sense’ my way to the Lord...”
“We KNOW Nustar... That’s why you’re piloting this fucking shit... Now get on with the mission...”

“There’s no way around it... He can’t possibly finalise the project now...”
“He’ll find a way... His private trainer still believes in him... There is hope...”
“Good... Now tell Mango to man up... We’re going to need extra monks to protect this Space Program... This vision is early stages and long term, if wind gets out to the local parents that it involves cannabis smoking, they might report them to the Feds...”
“You know the neighbours are cool with him... Don’t fret... He lives in a tiny Utopia usually... He won’t dare ruckus that...” suggested Clyde.
“Fine... But he’s getting far too close to the higher truths, and I want him publically silenced... At least at some point... For all our welfares...”
“I’m sure the procedure will fail... Think about it. It’s far too risky...”
“Remember that film he made?”
“Sure do...”
“Oh my God... I get it... I know what he’s doing...”
“He’s telling a story...”
“Yesssssss... of course... The perfect way to guide a people...”
“He MIGHT have the solution after all!”
“Yes, he might! He might!” gasped Clyde.
Wackaday Nancy pants arrived with the cane, and throttled her hand to prove discipline.
“Yes miss”, came the encore of every night.
Those poor cherubs, all locked in mansions at night, away from their parents.
Nustar shed a ‘power tear’...
He was just experiencing ‘vicarious empathy of others’ for a while. It’d be okay. It’d blow over. Sure, fornication might be a sin, but if due to freedom under God’s eternal promise of redemption and the fact that as mortals we have a tendency to love too much one finds one being a parent to a child... Who on earth could harm children?”
This was Nustar’s ‘Michael Jackson repulsor exemplar...’
Remember that alleged paedophile of awesome talent?
Nustar grew up on ‘Bad’ and ‘Thriller’... And that was how it’d all ended. He’d been accused of vile paedophilia.
Nustar had shunned a huge community of people after that... not through hate... but through sadness.
Anyway... Nevermind... That was then, and this is now... And Nustar was still lost in space, even though initial portalisation had definitely occurred, he was recanting memories of the academy.
“Verticle field arcs are at 23 degrees...”
He loved playing with the fifth dimensional time compass... THAT little invention he DID get... and what a breakthrough for mankind it had been in the mid part of the 21st century.
Play a little song.
Have a little jig.
Why not?
World was crying out for some joy... Nustar could bring that joy. It had been proven once before, and NASA themselves were interested...
Wide vibe soul fields of Christian love... That’s how peace and quality maintenance is established.
THAT’s how civilisation has progressed so well... and all the fruits of that bedrock of Christ’s holy message ARE in your works and destiny... FOR I HAVE A DREAM... A HOLY PROMISE FROM GOD...
“He’s doing it... He’s zoning out big style...” said Jimmy, studying the digital feeds.
“Come on Nustar... What’s going on... Let’s hear it...” enquired Clyde.
“How does it feel? Are you there yet?”
“No... I’m getting matter sense shift though... Material drift... Tactile distortion.... The controls are starting to fluctuate beneath my touch... I’m also beginning to spin more out of control... but only slightly... It’s bound to happen given the intensity of the mission... I got this... Been through it a thousand times before... Returning to main focus...”

Nustar pulled back in his seat and imagined a fine pathway through the dual solution. “Remember the small door, which leads to life...Not the large gate who all enter through, to destruction...” echoed through his bio-chamber.
What did that exactly mean? Nustar had one theory, but it was pretty disgusting, so he neglected to mention it over omelettes and tea for breakfast with the relatives.
“Mission Control... Fuck you... I’ve done it... I’ve completed the mission.”
“You have not!”
“I, like, so have...”
“Nustar, you’re delusional again... GET BACK IN THE ZONE... We want to hear more international jewels of intergalactic realisation...”
“I should get a higher salary on my return to Earth – You know that, don’t you?”
“We’ll discuss it when and if... but for now, PROJECT...”
“Goddamn it... You guys ask a lot... Still, if it wasn’t for the radical plan to save the world, what else would I be doing?”

Nothing... Just sitting piss ass drunk in the back steel frame of a retired jalopy, with a dead cat for a pillow, and a bowl of mouldy nachos for sustenance.

“He knows nothing but guts and determination, after years of sufferance...”
“He was a mad man... What do you expect?”
“Sticking him in ‘The soul vortex project though’? Was that such a good idea?”
“Perhaps...” Clyde grinned as he imagined how much the world would learn through this mission.

“Mission Control - We’re getting pyramidal shift on the sensual digits... My key board is fluctuating again, like last night... Matter itself is transmogrifying beneath my touch, but as yet... No papyrus fingers...”
“It’s too early in the day dagnammit... This should be done at night, and night only... The sun is too bright in my eyes...”
“Just hang on Nustar... You can MAKE IT! We believe in you!”

Jeesh. Nustar had been out on a limb ever since he realised London and New York were both probably ruled by Satan.
That’d had been an eye changer at a young age... Just the sheer power of that arguable realisation.
That’s why he’d escaped a traditional vocation.
THAT’s why he ran to the God of the Heavens.
He’d been made to edit porn for months on end in a seedy Soho Hell Hole...
No Sir, this boy was for the stars... And if there was a way he could comprehend... He’d make it.
“I’m plugging into Phase Four now...”
“I thought it was Phase Five?”
“I’ve lost count... Don’t worry... My thought correction procedure worked. I have counteracted the initial spin distortion and recalibrated the energy flow toward my neo-cortex... I’m still safe...”
“Phew... Good one Nustar...”
“And in response to your earlier statement... No. I don’t want to speak to Tess. Not yet. I can handle this alone...”

As time began to continue enveloping its infinite reach about the colossal magnitude of the sun and in between every Heavenly body that exists in ‘magna gargantua’, Nustar jostled a bit in the chair and relaxed with style.

“Right... I’m through... Portalisation achieved for the day... Now where?”

It was a new world... It was a new time for earth... but few had the realisation to live it... Everyday could be made to be a dream, if one but BELIEVED. Nustar was convinced of this as an hypothesis, and at some level, was prepared to die for it. Did he include God into the equation? Hell yes.

He’d been through shit most mortals didn’t even realise was humanly possible.

Thank God for Mission Control though. They’d believed in him, and all it took was a fortnightly injection called Abilify to rudder his massive warping heart, mind and soul, and focus his powerful mind.

Perhaps it really WAS working? Who knew... but one thing’s for certain, if solutions were to be found, then it was a good thing to practice Mensa puzzles... For they ARE little gems of complexity, which must be mulled on and mused over... if necessarily alone... if necessarily for years...

“Get back to the main gradient Nustar...”

Jeesh. It was the Pronghorn Ghost... that ancient and relatively unknown little bastard.

“Fuck you Pronghorn... I’m not interested...”

“Go back to sleep then, you wide eyed jerk...”

Some demons could be so rude... Nustar was beyond this. He was protected by a divine gift from God. A halo. It meant his mind, body and soul was protected at all times from demonic influence, no matter how far his sojourns of the heart might take him... It was just a question of Faith multiplied by Hope multiplied by Love to manifest a divine mental conclusion to dealing with the absurdity of conscious sentient existence.

That’s how he’d got so far in the first place. Like a Prince among men, he was... But he had an edge... A dark side... And THAT is why he signed up for the project... because dwelling on benefits doing NOTHING with your life was anathema to his raison d’etre... And he had a fucking massive raison d’etre to share with the ladies... So he began to mine the very possibilities of what it was to recreate real esoteric truth in a Space Program laboratory... He could work at it and refine it for years... Such would be the magnitude of the final scheme to produce a solid foundation for some children’s salvation... THAT’s how the masters had done it in the first place? Shakespeare, Dickens, Dick, et al... Pioneers of the occidental lingo sprawling ancient tomes of worthy communication to the masses...

And then there was Nustar...

A mere slightly above average mortal... but with a holy blessing.

“I know there’s a God, and it’s my mission to prove it...”

They’d all mocked and jeered and laughed at him, the scoffers who sit in high places... But Nustar was adamant to believe in the word of Christ and follow the love of God until the day he was killed.


Because between Heaven and Hell, God takes the benefit of the doubt. You’d have to be a fool to think otherwise.

And so it was... The project continued for a brief duration, at an exponential level of relative thrust. Soothing, it was, to the senses... Nustar allowed the minute photon streams of star shine to caress his temples as he lay back, kept his eyes only slightly open, and just tried to feel... the very communication to his senses of the stars. It was beautiful out here, amid the vast expanse... So... So quiet though, save for the static and frequency ripples of the comms system... He’d always wanted peace... and for a time... He’d found it... and perfect to his findings in his soul it had been.

“What is it Jimmy?!”
“We’ve just got a full frequency ripple from your meditation... it worked!”
“It did?!”
“Yeah! This is GOLD dude!”
“It is?!”
“I think so!”
“Then hot diggety, we need a mass publication... We need tanks, we need guns, we need mortars and cross bows... THEN, we can begin to build a workable defensive strategy...”
“Not now... Nustar’s on the verge of an intergalactic breakthrough, and you’re just playing military mind games again... THERE WILL BE NO WEAPONS ON THE NEW JERUSALEM, DO YOU COPY?”
“Yes, received and understood Jimmy.”
“Good... Goooooood... Now... Let’s just see how far this Nustar lad can go... What you got for me kid?”
“I am reminded of a quote by Mark Twain, Mission Control...”
“Oh yes?”
“Fact IS stranger than fiction... Fiction has to make sense...”
“Receiving that hot tip loud and clear Commander... Now GO FOR IT!”.
“Will do...”

Nustar punched in some coordinates on his head-up display and watched for excessive tail drift using rearguard auxiliary boosters.

~ Eternal life. Now there’s a thing. Not sure I’d want to comprehend that right now. Just getting through the day in one piece would be nice.

“I’ve got it!”
“I know how to coalesce the entire mission into a salvation plan using my findings in augmentation of truth...”
“What’s that Nustar?”
“A poem...”
“Okay... Shoot...”

And it was with the dexterity of an absolute pro, that Nustar, in the lonely field of intergalactic orbit he was somewhere lost in around the Draco constellation, began to type furiously on the ship array system, inspired, it seemed by the passing of an ion flux cloud.

He named the poem ‘Expansion point’:


“Delta? Yes?”


“Omega... Good... And?”


“Okay...” Jimmy was furiously scribbling down the findings.


“Don’t?” inquired Jimmy, having received the fourth piece of code.

“Wait... There’s more...”

“Foxtrot Uniform Charlie Kilo... India Tango... Uniform Papa...”

“Don’t fuck it up?”

“Yup... I think that’s it... That’s today’s poem from the stars...”

“Since when is that a poem?”

“The whole thing has been a poem... Jimmy...” muttered Nustar maliciously into the microphone.

A break... A rupture occurred... The field zone had turned a trifle shade ‘malevolent’. What would Nustar do now?

“I’m shutting you down chi. You’re bringing me nothing but demons...”

“No... Wait...” The character generator was brimming with power.

It was Fergal Sharkey’s book maker...

“Remember... A good heart these days is hard to find... Believe in yourself Nustar... YOU have macro thrust now...”

It was too much to take on board. Nustar dilated at an incredulous level for a full ten or so minutes, unable to file his report, unable to move, unable to even think... He could just feel, and feel forever.

“Yeah... My soul fully blossomed, and I lost control again of the ship momentarily...”

“GODDAMN IT NUSTAR... When will you learn to comprehend AND type when you meet saturation point? You just dilated BIG TIME... For about TEN MINUTES... And what have you got to show for it? SQUAT!” Jimmy was livid that saturation point had been completely missed this time around.

“Let me re-examine my memory chambers... Look... I can still immediately function on the qwerty array... I have legitimised my pursuit of truth...”



“ARGHHHHHHH... Damn it... Why do I work with amateurs...?!” moaned Jimmy, sensing a tremendous loss of vital mission data slip casually through their hands and into neverwhere.

“I’m a professional and you know it... Now quit giving me slack and buckle up. I’m going back in...”

“What?! The ships computer systems are not aligned for a double vortex re-entry prior to the engine cooling sufficiently with the plasma cells discharge... THAT TAKES TIME TO REGENERATE.”

“I don’t care... The plan is working... I DID feel something new... and I want to explore further...”

“You’re mad! Okay... Fine, just go will yer, you old Wind Dog... Just don’t say I didn’t warn you on the other side...”

“Hearing your word my main man... NOW PUNCH THIS SHIT...”

“Copy that... Standing by for re-launch...”

“Just look at him now... In super pursuit mode...”

Tess was watching the screen at Mission Control and seeing her beloved wrestle with the controls thanks to the live video feed as she arrived to get a situation report.

“Yes Tess... How he WANTS to live...” reminded Jimmy.

“But where IS that? Somewhere in the void? Who knows...? He could be on an infinite quest for mystery that no one will ever understand, but only HE truly believes...”




“NUSTAR... ARE YOU OKAY?” Jimmy launched at the terminal microphone to hear further word of our heroes apparent impending doom.

“Hold on, I know what’s happening... God is giving me increments of rage for ever thinking I could even think of such a thing... I was just trying to explore, but I guess I went the wrong way... I’ll reconsider the route and recalibrate the system drive... The character generator is running over time and the fifth dimensional time compass is glowing white hot.”

“You have no idea what you’re doing, do you Nustar?”

“Don’t you believe a word of the lies my friends, I KNOW I have a way...”

“Oh, does he now...” groaned Jimmy.

Mother rat and her scrawny little bastard children from Hell pulsed in their sodden poverty through lack of devotion to a mission, and continued to forage in the gutters of the Space Program buildings. Nustar regurgitated a little bit of sick. He’d learned from the owls a long time ago. This was traditional play for such a dangerous career.

“This is going to be a long... Hard... Slog... Capiche mes amis? CAN YE LAST THE DURATION OF THE MISSION?” bellowed Nustar, to invisible ears.

He was going off on one now, tangenting... Spraying off hooleys in his wild siesta...

“Guess you better put down that Salami and make me a sandwich, Capiche...”

Jeesh, it was Jester... The ‘Mild frontiersman’. All thanks to the character generator going mental.

“The aliens didn’t know that, did they?”

“Know what?”

“That word I just said...”

“Which word...?”


“I think they probably did old boy. Are you sure you’re not just a bit delusional?”

“I appreciate it’s recognised by Microsoft Word... But what IS a frontiersman?”

“It’s a guy who goes questing for new frontiers...”

“Yes... That’s what I thought... Like James Tiberius Kirk of the Star Ship Enterprise...”


“That’s what I don’t get... Why isn’t Nustar recognised as one too?”

“He doesn’t do anything!”

“HE SO DOES!!!!!!”

~ The flashback from school had been brutal. Fuck you Frank Polanski, you big American bully... I’ll find a way to get into space and save this planet... I just need time...

Yet time...

Yet time...

Well... Who’s kidding themselves... Time WAS on his side, for as the KLF had once preached, ‘Time is Eternal’ in their 90’s poptastic slam jam to uber groove.

And it was so... Tribes rippled with increasing salivation of positivity back on Mother Earth, unbeknownst to them that light years away in another sector of space, Commander Nustar was having trouble maintaining his sanity...


Damn it... More flack. Pulse vapours... Perhaps he’d thought a modicum too far for a tiny duration of disentanglement from the perfect equilibrium.

“Nustar – This is Mission Control... We get your mission... It’s working...!!!”

“I know... Now just HANG ON.”

~ The ship lurched at the incredulous pulse vapour which had arisen from the cosmic storm cloud they’d been witness too... And now the qwerty array was rising again in Nustar’s hands... Matters very sensation was transforming as Nustar punched those digits at a prodigious speed of knots...
But still...
“Not yet got Papyrus fingers... I’m close, but I don’t know what I’m meant to do to get that soft true alteration again... Each time before it’s happened seemingly by accident... Wait... I am softening... Hmmm... Hey... do you remember Iron Man?”

“Yes Nustar... This is Mission Control... We remember Iron Man...”

“Well I’ve just pierced the vision he had in order to compute an equation... I’m now seeing part of his vision... and IT IS GENUINELY AMAZING ON A MATHEMATICAL PLANE!”

“We know that Nustar...”

“Oh right... Soz... But does EVERYBODY know that?”

“Not sure on that one. We’re just an elite enterprise of scientific personnel with a glorious mission for all humanity to learn from... We can’t vouch for Iron Man.”

“Yes... And I’m part of it... Fantastic... If only Danger Mouse were here to see me now...”


The delusions were building. There was nothing that could be done.

“Bring him back alive...”

“Can’t be done system.... Can’t be done...” Cardinal Rizzla was steaming as the monk began to expire...


Hzzz....Hzzzzzzz... The fifth dimensional time compass was pulsing psychedelic information.

“Get this back to base... it’s working... I’m getting papyrus fingers... I kept the faith...”

“Cool... How can you tell...?”

“I just felt first wave of that divine and luxurious floaty softness... It was very flowing and soothing to my flow...”


“You’re not Illuminati Matriarch Har’qua... I am...”

“Bullshit you are... You’re a dangerous little fucker, and a hardcore cyborg to boot... Now get out of my face...!”

Matriarch Har’Qua launched at Nusters face, but he sideswiped diligently...

“I am NOT a cyborg... I am a free man,” he responded in a flash.

“I’ll get you lad... Oooh, I’ll get you my boy...”


And so it was... ’neath the pleasant desert moon, the two travellers of the space time continuum had found a momentary place devoid of all other strife... Of all horror... Of all effort and sufferance... and just filled with an everlasting sense of pure holy love... ‘Adore’ if you will...

And ‘A door’ it was...


The ancient portal echoed pain as it creaked on its metaphorical hinges... but there it was... nonetheless... ‘The small door’... A tiny portal in the tear of space.

“Nustar... This is Mission Control... What’s going on?”

“I think I’m onto something guys... bear with me...”

“Okay. Standing by...”

“Jesus.... He’s doing it... He’s still maintaining the mission... What Phase are we in now?”

“Phase Five Sir...”

“Good, Good... I wonder what he’ll eat for supper... Can’t be fun living off a spaceman’s diet for the rest of one’s days, can it?

“Ahhh... Gee...” whinged Nustar.

“What is it now Nustar?”

“I wanna give up...”

“NO! You can’t!”

“I can’t be fucked... I’m... I’m... So jaded... I think my oxygen is running low...”

“Bullshit Nustar. You’re just delusional and caught in a double G-Lock... Now pull yourself together and get back in the target zone for super orbit”.

Tess’s voice echoed in his cranium.

There was no denying her will for him to succeed... But Nustar had been portalised... He’d seen beyond death, and the very now, and if they laid his virtually lifeless carcass to rest upon the road side one day... He would ‘STILL’ keep it all classified information, if they were his orders.

The spectral crowd of knowing particles dispersed and a subtle breath of the Heavens was allowed to return into Nustar’s lungs...

“Phew... Thank fuck for that... Still alive... RIGHT... Where’s my fifth dimensional time compass?”

It truly had been... A close shave.

“Sounds like Nustars in the soup again Jimmy...”

Clyde Banks reared on his arches with concern for the fate of the poor blighter, and what’s more, the fate of all that lovely ship data.

“Don’t worry Clyde... He’ll find a way... He’s Nustar...”

“Excellent faith Jimmy...”

Meanwhile... A million concepts away in deep space, Nustar was wriggling with what might actually be the final breath of his existence.

“Okay... So if I die, I die. I did my best to play by the rules, and having seen true evil in my time, I can safely say I’ve never been as evil as them... so lay it on me Lord.... What yer gonna do? I’m ready for you. I can take it. I always believed. I just didn’t always know what to do...”

“Settle child... You have served your people well in the name of devotion to the Written Word... I shall spare you from the slaughter...”

“Why thank you... You’re too kind... But what slaughter is this that you speak of?!”

“The slaughter inherent in the prophecies... It has yet to be done... Now silence, and back to your bed, before I change my mind...”

“Ya vol main guru... I am sorry to have fractured momentarily your equilibrium...”

~ Nustar was hallucinating as his craft pierced sector after sector of space at radical speeds.

“DON’T WORRY... MISSION CONTROL... I HAVE THE ENTIRE DREAM THEORY IN MY TARGET ZONE... I CAN PERCEIVE THE BEAUTY OF THE EQUATIONS...” Nustar managed to generate an aspect of the report while his entire sensorium was in rotational, delirious free fall.

And so it was, that after a few bumpy shenanigans, the Nustar project was still on course for salvation...


“Jimmy... Come on man... Don’t be a dick... Haven’t I been through enough for one day?” whinged Nustar.

“No.... If Jimmy wants you to go the full nine yards then you initialise phase six... Let’s see how far THAT gets you...” instructed Clyde Banks, manhandling the microphone and hopping from foot to foot, eager to receive more exciting data.

“Christ... They want me dead,” thought Nustar... and racked up another spliff.

And then the vision was over... And a mission to the onboard beer dispenser beckoned.


Why not... Fresh intergalactic libations... For one...

Liberate your mind. Liberate your sorrows. In space, no one can hear you dream.

And so they pressed on, through the galaxy. Amid the quanta storms, the photon displays, the quark showers, the thermonuclear explosions, the genesis of stars... Just seeking, the very essence of why a particular particle was first generated, and what the purpose for intelligent life was, when there wasn’t much to do anyway but eat, sleep, and possibly have sex if you’re talented enough...

“Watch him go... He’s rip tiding those surfs...”

“LEAVE THE SHIP FIELD ROATION SYSTEM AS IT IS... THAT WAY UP - GOOD. THAT WAY DOWN - BAD, CAPICHE YOU INADEQUATE LITTLE BASTARD?” Nustar was still hurling out the orders as his mind distorted with interference from unknown origins of intelligence.

Nustar punched a few seriously cool buttons on the over head array.

“RIGHT... DOES ANYONE HAVE A FUCKING CLUE WHAT IS GOING ON?” the character generator was spewing out voices and characters in a fashion that was completely out of control.

No one could answer truthfully with any level of worthy precision.

“Jimmy... We’re gonna have to double macro this shit...” informed Nustar.

“What? A double macro? Now?!”

“I just consider it first field disturbance... If I’m going to access the true core, I need to penetrate beyond this shit. The character generator is malfunctioning. I’m caught between random forces here.”

“Okay Nustar... What do you suggest we do?”

“Increase seismic-wave velocity... I want higher scan pulsars penetrating that cosmic energy source... Try and see what plane any proto-generic consciousness in the local vicinity might be operating on...”

“Copy that... You’re riding clear Nustar... What else you got...?”

“Nothing for now but firm grooves... And yes, you can tell the people back home on earth that it’s all been worth while... And the survival program has WORKED, and has been a GREAT SUCCESS...”

“Copy that Nustar... So what you gonna do now?!””

“I’m not done... Yet... Still floating in the rapture... Checking out this and that... Seeing, just what is truly feasible...”

“They gave you super human powers at boarding school when you were young Nicholas Guy Clark... Don’t think you can use them now...”

<Cripes... Rumbled by the Prof.>

“Sorry sir...”

“Good... Now return to the Nustar project... And get transcribing the findings for the benefit of mankind... It’s what you’re paid for dagnammit. “

A monumental state of utterly profound peace ultra-forged right at that moment.

Global, universal, momentary peace... Ultra-forging... And the sad thing was, some people weren’t paying attention.

“We’re going to have to shoot the lot of them...”

“No Sir... You can’t...”.

“Goddamn it squire, you’re right... What ARE we to do?”

“Convert them via prayer...”

“You have got to be joking...”

“I am absolutely serious...”

“Okay... how?”

“Believe... Now go... You will know what to do when the time comes...”

“Okay... And thanks...”

“It’s been swell kid... God bless...”

And then they were gone... Like momentary wisdoms evaporating upon the wind... Yet so fuelled with insight were their treasured hearts...

“Mission Control... The keyboard is warping now... Big time... Still no true state of papyrus fingers though...”

“Hang in there Nustar... Hang in there...”

Patience... Sure... Patience was a virtue, virtue was a grace. Grace was a little girl who never washed her face... And right now Nustar could give Grace a decent kick in the ass.

Nustar didn’t want patience NOW, this was the time for action... But what action... and how many Proton rifles can one carry alone? It was all so absurd...

So Nustar retreated to his ship study to read mythology, quantum physics, and astronomy... He knew these things played a massive part in how the world was run, and so, it was deemed, after a lengthy meditation on the power of knowledge being passed down from brother to brother o’er the ancient passageways of time, Nustar, would watch a documentary about extreme particle physics.

But only because the Pope had slipped up... Trying to be... ‘Too nice’...

And thus began the physical clash of Spartan warriors... No longer restrained from a million personal grievances, but unleashed, if only but for a few million rotations of a Caesium atom’s core... Nustar’s logic was beginning to bend and flux.

He fired up the character generator. They’d keep him company.

All was to play for... ALL was magnificent... AND MAGNO O’HARA... (For her name had been changed due to larceny charges) was filled with her own personal delusions of higher state power...

“I’ll show that Nustar...” she cringed... “If it’s the last thing I do...” she said as her animated sprite emerged from the console.

“Shit a brick... I think we’re in Phase Seven now... Look... It’s true... the universe expands with the music... I... I... I’ve never seen anything so beautiful...” Nustar was fully tripping out now on space, ignoring the offensive sprite.

“Hypothesis Cubed... Everyone is an entity... Anyone got a problem with that?”

The little rat boy of a shit hole whispered into his own terrified attempt at being heard:

“Yes Sir... Yes I do...” his quivering voice emerged from the character generator.

“WHY... CRETIN...?” came a third and caustic voice.

“My people are weak you see... We couldn’t even imagine what it was like to be mighty if we sent our bones a letter with DNA upgrades... Please... Be kind to the weak and unfortunate... We don’t wish to be this way... You can parade your glories from every angle of the fifth dimensional time compass to me... But I say this, and this alone... Remember the children...”

Pah! The fucking children... Always the one’s to impede on a fuck off rave on the full assault of boshing a thousand pills... Still... Bless their 100% cotton socks... Yes... Think of the children... It would soon be time for bed, where establishments could be built between stars.

“How yer doing Nustar?” Jimmy came through on the communicator.

“Hanging in there... It’s getting bouncy, and a tad tedious, but I’m listening to quality music... Don’t worry about me... I’ll make it to the other side... The character generator is on overdrive and churning out irrational sprites.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I’m going to use my Earth avatar to explore his own personal circuit... This shit is getting too weird man... I think I’m being subliminally being controlled by one of you... I feel... Something...”

“That’s BULLSHIT Nustar, and you know it... Now man up and get with the program...”

“No... I think it’s a legitimate equation too... I’ve seen things you’ll never comprehend... Don’t question me...”

“Okay Nustar... but if you’re wrong on this...”

“Don’t worry kid... There’s only one fly boy around here who knows how to ride the quantum swells...”

“Glad to hear your well...”

“I’m better than well... I’m globally soul groovy... Come on... We can still crush and melt this terrorist horde which plagues our Earth.”

“Copy that... What you got for us?”

“Poisoned carpets, with time capsule release detonation gizmos installed...”

“Okay, we’re listening...”

“You don’t know how to make that shit...” (The fourth voice of protest emerged from the character generator).

“I so do...”

Oh no... It was Mustapha Milq’Sheikh... The notorious swine of pure demonic Islam. A rogue item of ship code.

“Get out of my way peasant...” he ordered.

“No can do Musty... You killed a friend of mine...” replied the dashing Nustar.

“I so did not...”

“You so did... And I know it by the swear of my heart...”

“You blame me for the POWER OF THE SUN!?”

“I blame you for everything kid... and you better recognise...”

“Jeesh... Let it be will you...? We’re all conscientious entities trying to comprehend reality...”

“I know... And that’s the problem... I’ve seen something...”

“Ahhh... Good... A seer! Welcome! Welcome!”

“Quit the shit second in command fly boy, I’m not at a Chemical Brothers gig now...”


Oh cripes, an utterly Satanic psychopath. Nustar would have to watch his every move. Nunchuck style. Why did they even allow the possibility for their existence with such liberal ship coding strategies in the character generator?

“I’m going for a walk around the ship... and there’s nothing you can do to stop me...”

“Okay, capiche... Watch the brothers... There might be skulls out there...”

“Skulls? What the fuck are you going on about?” enquired Nustar, and carried on regardless.

“The badass team and their inherent generic Satanic tricks... THE BAD GUYS DUDE...”

“You’re right Raph... We need a superior plan...”

Who was Raph? And where did he spring up from?

“Keep your scopes clear... and stay conscious...” the old military Captain was back.

“Copy that...” offered Nustar.


“Arghhhhhhh Shit...”

“Johnny... What is it...?”

One of the animated sprites called Johnny, arising from the character generator, had taken a pounding from an onboard detonation.

“I’ve been hit... shrapnel from an internal explosion...”

“Jesus... Just hold on... You’ll be okay... I’ll find a medic...” said another sprite.


“See what you’ve done Nustar... You’ve caused an explosion in the main reactor...”

“Bullshit Satan... That was you, and you know it...” Nustar maintained iron resolve, pushing the very extremities of being hard to their absolute vanishing point.

“Fine... Off I whisper... But may you not be so lucky next time...”

“Don’t worry Punk... I will be...”


“Feckin’ Ass hat. I hate that Satanic shit... P.O.L.L.Y.... Do something to appease my post combat ruminations...”

Personal Online Living Library Yahoo, which had survived as a communication tool after all those years, even though they had to alter their coding and suffer a name change, responded with immediate alert.

“Yes Nustar... To what is your bidding?”

“Milkshake... or something... Something nice... Just had Satan himself rattle the chamber. I need something soft and gentle on my larynx...”

“Coming right up sir...”

She was a sweety like that. Loyal, disciplined and efficient. The perfect wife. You just couldn’t stick your Johnson in her circuitry without problems.

There had been a long and lengthy break in the proceedings, largely because Madonna started pumping on the speaker system...

But Nustar could not help but think it unviable...

“I can almost touch the stars...” he mused.

Yes... Phew... At least his mission had achieved that much. HE, as a HUMAN, had achieved Trans-Quanta Immersion. This was cutting edge. Even Bruce Willis’s agent couldn’t grasp the notion when first proposed to Jerry Bruckheimer, so they scrapped it as a project. How little they knew.

Still... Pummelling those keys at the rate of knots... and his fingers STILL hadn’t overly transmogrified into parchment or velvet...

Don’t worry. There is still time. Keep mining at the digital coal face... There HAS to be a way...

“We’re in Phase Seven now...” reminded Jimmy.

“Oh Cripes... Okay... Bring it...”

The ship pierced the wormhole with alarming precision given Nustars hysterical coordinates... The plan... it seemed... had worked...

For now...

But then what?

“You gotta regenerate the main warp drive... You can’t let Madonna kill the mission... We know... She was huge... but the mission is about more than that...”

“I know... I know what it is that should be done...”




“Yes! Why not! Immaculate to the skies...!”

Like it or not, it was a signal there on planet Earth, bombarding through the photon frequencies into a new aspect of space time reality... and no one... but no one... could comprehend Nustar’s overall game plan.

“They’d heard it all before...” moaned Switchwind, the ship effort at biological engineering. A mass of fluff and hair that rolled around with a permanent headache.

“They ain’t heard shit... Switchwind... Transpose that main system valve to a lower trajectory...”

“Okay... Yes sir... Shiiiiiiit... I’ve heard this song before... That witch, Madonna... KILL HER!!! BURN HER!!! SHE IS WICKED AND SATANIC!!!!”



Nustar listened with confusion as a name he didn’t recognise filtered through his cochlea from a tear in the space time continuum.


“That it is better to live within than to live without,” came the alien signal.

“Ach! Fair play then... Get out of here, yer wee scallywag...”

“Jesus... How can he handle that much shit...?”

“Because I’m prepared to endure... Now let’s move!” Nustar was handling the latest flashback like a pro. “Oh no...” he then uttered.

“What is it Nustar?” Jimmy was still listening.

Well... Nustar was just about to find out...

“Where... My child... do you even begin to explain the genius of man?” he mused, fingers wrapped tightly around the ship joystick, maintaining the pressure of serious G’s on his physiology.

“I know... it’s out there... it’s absolutely far gone... And I for one am glad to have been born testament to that sci-fi extravaganza... Screw you Rock Wolf... I was never as insidious as you, GET THEE BEHIND ME SATAN...”


The karma had been disturbed for a fleeting nanosecond by an exploding electron.

The particle physicists will even tell you that such a thing might not be possible.

But that is what Nustar was compelled to think, given the GRAVITAS of the situation... and all involved.

Would space time ever be the same again? Could existence of purpose for all be revoked? Or was it a long trip down swanny river...


“Jesus... This thing is alive... Call it off...”

“No can do Commander... You’ve awoken what might be referred to at this juncture as ‘A Cracken’.”

“Damn me and my juvenile parlour games... What WILL I do...”

“Stay cool bro... There has to be a way out of this...” Jimmy punched rapidly on some important keys, trying to determine a logical exit strategy.

“YOU find a way out of this...” bellowed Nustar.

“You mean you can’t?”

“Haven’t the foggiest old boy...”

“Shiiiiiiit... Then we’re really in the detritus....”


“Unless what?!”

“We just ignore it, and press on with the Mission?”


“Could work, I suppose...”

“Manifest data is sprawling everywhere... He’s seen it...”

“Shut him down...” the voice emerged from the mysterious ether. It was Jimmy’s boss returning from a break, Clyde Banks.

“No can do... The vortex has taken effect...”

“SHUT IT DOWN NOW...” yelled Clyde.

“I’m telling you... it’s too late...”

“Then God help us all... I just hope he knows what he’s doing...”

“He does... Have faith... He’s trained by the best...”


Uh oh... Was it a dark force of Satan? Probably... Seen that shit before... Repel, and E-Ject...
That’s the best way, always works, and one learns from the legacy of shadow battle... An interesting science of early warrior not often spoke of in higher realms these days.

“They’ll have you by the short and curlies for this my son.... You better beware...”

“A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do... I only bring the potential... of the macro dream... That’s all I’m doing... The rest... is up to you.”



“It’s Tess... She’s established comms...”

“Tess... It’s Noo noo... Something’s happening right now... I have a sensation... It’s just started... Never felt that before... What’s your position on that actuality?”

There was silence down the other end of the phone...

Then it began...

Her loving response codes...

“Stabilise yourself man... For Goodness sake...”

She’d just arrived home from visiting the Space Program, and STILL couldn’t stay away from the man she loved.

There was no use... He was all over the floor with the hilarity of joy that love had afforded him... So he would stay close to the home turf... Hang around for a while... Wonder if one day the master would teach us all how to build satellites... That sort of thing.

Yet until then, not a jot of further pleasure was to be afforded to his tribe...

This was the writing on the wall... OR SO HE THOUGHT...

It was questionable whether it was completely true...

Few bargained with that kind of overall blanket statement for a forward seeking community... And that is why.... Ladies and Gentlemen... Keith Flint should be arrested... For primary breach of social conduct, spending the inglorious stash on himself, and inciting riots with dirty dance grooves.

“Tess can wait. I’ll deal with her problems later. I need to re-establish a theory on how the warp core can be prevented from melting. I’m thinking of rebooting the proton flow exchange...”

Nustar closed the comms line with Tess. He didn’t want her to see him delusional in deep space, or risking life and limb due to some warp core explosion.

“It’s a good hypothesis... But I’m at breaking point with the strain of waiting...” responded Jimmy.

“Waiting for what?!”

“The strain, the rapture, the finality, the apotheosis, whatever it’s called... It’s just the wait... That’s what really stings...”

“You know... You’re so right... I could learn from a man like you...”

“You won’t learn anything from me but how to remain free, even when the world seems to be clamping down on liberty...”

And there they had it... A blueprint conversation between brain hemisphere archetypes, dialoguing in the distant moon beamed air.

“He self-obliterated himself so he could become a conscious entity... Beyond... Beyond the construct.... Beyond the day to day mayhem... Just perpetually scanning... Feeding the machine... That’s all they fecking do, innit...”

“Yes sir... Yes it is...”

“Holy crack whore... Feeding the machine should be defiled upon...”

“Are you sure you want to run that test program... Sir?”

“Welllllll... Just hold your horses... But something has to be done... Don’t you agree...?”

“Possibly Sir... You have made everyone super sonic... And highly sensitive might I add...”

“The last bit was a mistake... Didn’t mean for that to happen... It’s what occurs when you attempt to cross breed field rats in a thermal incubator...”

“Copy that, Sir...”

“Good. Goooooood. The world is still learning... Fantastic. I’ll find some slumber in a higher orbit tonight I trust.”

“I wouldn’t get overly so certain Commander... We got build up of tau disruptors at echo three...”

“Excellent.... Excellent...” Nustar could handle a challenge.

No one knew who Nustar had been talking to. It remained a total mystery. Nustar couldn’t remember a Goddamn thing about the conversation only moments later... but it had existed... it had taken place, and blaming everything on space amnesia wasn’t going to wash with an expert like Clyde Banks, who expected some serious findings on this highly expensive mission.

But that was then, and this, is now. (Or was... The ‘now’ back then had lasted an age, but in retrospect, was as fleeting as a fireflies glowing bottom in the crepuscular summer sky).

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