The Reptilian Telepathy of Birds by R.K. Galvez (best books to read for knowledge .TXT) 📕

Professor Norkgrub. White crystallized seeds seeped from his seed-sacks.

"Professor Norkgrub? It's really you, isn't it?" murmured Zip, still a bit of an echo.

Zip gasped. She was probably using a corrupted ceremonial masturbation ritual to help her achieve the pzionik energy to sustain the time-defying astra-communication.

Professor Norkgrub wondered if Papus was with her, but decided not to ask. They went back a long time and they never got anything done; they were kindred spirits. He loved Papus and his cheeky ways. He was a good bloke, and really loyal to Millwall. Not many bona fide students of the occult support Millwall, do they?

"You're not using Papus' dagger hilt again are you Zip?" Norkgrub asked.

Zip laughed. "You guessed it, Norky baby! I had to use something to filter something out of the cosmos."

Norkgrub grimaced feeling the cosmic orgasm magicks infiltrating his zoophyte seed-sacks, reinforcing them and making them stronger.

"I agree what you're saying there."

"Help me, Norky, it smells like a set-up," said Zip.

"Don't worry kid, we don't forget anyone!"

With that Zip faded out; she must have passed out. Professor Norkgrub knew that feeling all too well.

6)TETRAURIEL+

Somewhere, in the dimensional chasms of the Seven Hells, a zombie caveman lived a frugal existence. This zombie caveman was an undead Homo Erectus to be precise. He remained one of the best agents the C.O.G ever had. Also, he had been resurrected too many times; his legendary life-death episodes were eternal, so he had to settle the score with the C.O.G. for giving him early retirement. The undead Homo erectus was known as Trogger. He did have codes, but he used them up a long time ago. He was unable to slip times again. He was trapped here.

It turned out to be a form of peaceful retirement for the immortal mystic homo-erectus. He was contained; he was no longer licensed to destroy worlds and dimensions. He was waiting for someone to turn up. he had ideas about seeing the treacherous Goodnow and Goodmann again. But he hoped to see his old Professor, Professor Norkgrub. He was ready to help him out. He wondered if there were more agents. He wondered what those silly cleaners were up to. Wasting their time for all eternity. It was a great time. And, for Trogger, the only time he got to think.

He decided to locate his blood gun. It was in a small wooden box. Trogger pressed a chunky button and the wooden box suddenly expanded. It was a great piece of design technology. It held the various parts to make up Trogger's blood gun. The viper-like sucker-tube, feeling for Trogger's familiar blood; it hissed as it sucked Trogger's blood. Trogger was set. He kept dreaming of Tortoise Birds. He didn't know why. He needed to catch another winged lizard; he didn't know what they were called. But he needed one. And he could keep them as pets later.

Trogger smiled. He stared at the mutated Iguanodon woman. She was a mystical lady of the Seven Hells and was his only companion here. She was morphed here as part of some strange experiment. She was a total nymphomaniac, of course. Trogger didn't mind; he was used to these things. He may even miss the crazy lizard lady. She had half the face of an Iguanadon, the other a waif like satellite dish- face of a posh model.

She had been a model in a previous existence, sticking to the Primrose Hill Third World; she had everything though and had experienced no social ills. And she never should have trusted the mysterious Agent Hubbard. Her thin tiny ballet legs combined with clunky reptilian limbs. Her tail swishing - particularly when she was in heat. She was unable to talk any known language; Trogger wasn't one for languages either. Moans and groans were the best they both could muster. Trogger was never going to be a linguist anyway, but the strange lizard lady was a truly bizarre mutation; however, so was Trogger.

He had got used to strange things and thanked Professor Norkgrub for his weird tastes. Good old Norky. It was nice to know nobody really died. It was good to have loads of friends in different worlds, thought Trogger.

[** ** **]

Recycled dreams of dead people had been flashing through Krugler's mind for several hours: the most powerful being a recurring dream of eternal crisis and disorder. Krugler dreamed of muto-riots, a small human population trapped in stasis, unable to do anything. And strange kinds of giant birds flying over the colony next to space ships. Don't ask why. Krugler usually had weird sex dreams, but these were getting blurred. They never seemed to last long. Maybe he was losing interest.

However, Krugler composed himself. He needed to keep law and order and get the colony working again. Orientis7LK4 was too soft. He realized the rest of colony as a lost cause. He had a weird feeling it was not originally called Orientis. He had been around most of it for years and he saw Orientis as the last hope for future human survival. All the rich fatties were locked up in holo-stasis here, deep down in underground bunkers. They had to be woken once the colony was properly terra-formed.

Krugler started to cry again. Krugler missed London. He missed Kilburn and The Good Ship. He wanted a quiet pint and to see how Fulham were doing. That sort of dull ordinary thing people just take for granted. It used to be called normal. But that was a few centuries ago. He should never have taken that immortality deal. Krugler just wanted to wake up.

From a painful message left in his blurred mind, Krugler had been informed a new Sub-Assistant-Vice-Deputy from the Agency Goodmann and Goodnow was being deployed to the moon colony to assist him with colony rejuvenation.

Krugler felt his Agency might not be a reliable company, but they remained the colony's last link to Earth. They claimed they had no idea what was going on down there; however, they always sent him information of their agents and operatives the colony contracted. It was as if they had designed him and had an insight into all his thoughts.

They had been on the moon-realm a long time, so Krugler still couldn't believe it was real. Maybe he was working for Goodmann and Goodnow on a mercenary basis. He should have stuck to Gumtree. Was it a conspiracy or was he just being emotional? He had not been emotional for a long time, but he was missing human contact so much he had loathed seeing himself every day. Maybe it was all another experiment.

Krugler chewed on some Norkweedroot and dreamed about still being on Earth, doing a menial job. It was so lonely on the colony; Krugler was getting lost in his own reality dreams. He had not experienced D-State for a fortnight. What kind of freakish nightmare immortality was transforming into - particularly if you were not able to remember anything. He was pretty sure he wasn't mutating just yet. He had also read literature like it before, where people thought they were in one place, but they were actually in another entirely different place. It was not new, in fact it was a little bit dull.

Krugler had a thought: was he ever in the armed forces? Krugler didn't know, but Ludovic had been a normal Corporal, hadn't he? Krugler felt that he just worked alongside them, like a consultant within his capacity. A little voice in Krugler's head said, "YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING, MISTER SHIT FOR BRAINS!" Krugler wiped the heavy perspiration from his face with a semen-stained paper towel; he had to be strong. Krugler was having too many doubts.

]*[ ]*[ ]*[

Professor Norkgrub laughed out loud. As all zoophytes do. He couldn't possess Ludovic, but Ludovic was keeping him in the loop. Thank goodness for that useless telepathic muto-blob, thought Norkgrub. He keyed in some codes on his console and hoped they were the right ones. He was not one for precision but in this case, Norky had done well. His cushion-capsule charged up. The good professor needed to break on through. He looked at the opportunities; he needed some funding. That’s how he ended up thinking about going on the road with Soft Machine…

7) A BIT MORE FUTURE-THINK BLINKING

Krugler was sure he had never joined the army, so that was a relief. He had always welcomed the machines; he had also gained his B.A. Degree (an unqualified pass, of course) in Philosophy from the U.R.S.O.M.A.D. University. On the colony, this enabled him to gain his management grade as the colony Chief. Philosophy was now called Pyscho-Bullshit Strategy Studies. There was a complete breakdown of social barriers here, as there were none left to break down.

Krugler tried to smarten himself up and got himself to the dock-portal. He was expecting his new assistant sub-assistant. As he finished reading the i-e-file, he noticed the dock-portal had opened and there stood his new assistant. He was amazed to see them all. He was stunned, almost lost for words.

His new assistant was called Zip Gregano. She was being sent to the colony with Goodman and Goodnow Agency security agents, called Ovno and Tipp. They looked like mutants, but they seemed genetically stable. They did not look useless lumps of detritus that were the mutations here. They looked like ancient mythical beings. Maybe evolved was the word Krugler was looking for.

Ovno looked like some strange sort of ape-like stick insect and Tipp looked like a hairless bear-beetle with shiny armour, his two red eyes just gleaming. They were both enigmatic, their clothing even more so. Tipp dressed as a badly paid Japanese salary-man with a crumpled shirt and a loose thin tie, that looked like it had never been washed.

Ovno, however, dressed like some sort of cowboy - in a weird glittery waistcoat all-in-one suit - with thin little cowboy boots and a thin ten gallon hat. "Holy shoot, holy shat," Ovno quipped. He was in ranger cowboy mode. He had no Tonto, though.

"YippyKaiyayyippyyoyippyyay people," said Tipp.

"Bowwowwowyippyyoyippyyay,"said Zip.

They all laughed; a weird ice-breaking laugh. Much to Krugler's amazement, Zip Gregano was a tall Amazonian woman. She had short blonde hair, in a pageboy cut with a small pubescent satellite dish face of a catwalk model. Krugler envisaged ejaculating over her face. Zip always got her clothes from Laura Ashley, but her underwear was all PVC. She was stuck in her pastoral ways and got her kicks from that duality.

Apparently, according the files, she only wore leather at nights. Zip was very timid and had a degree in Sapphic Sex Magicks. On her file it was written down as L.I T.L.(to simplify, Love Is The Law is the only natural law, of course); Krugler scoffed at it; he had never studied the occult as he was scared of it. He didn't know what code that stood for, so he scoffed because he wanted to look smart. He wanted to get it on with Zip. Zip had an idea he wanted to look smart. He was the boss of a dead colony after all.

Krugler then had a small, slightly eerie, thought that interrupted a weird mini-fantasy. During his mini-fantasy, he had been licking Zip's waifish punch-face, ejaculating all over it. Maybe they were all part of the enigmatic Mutant Police? Krugler thought to himself, looking intensely at Zip Gregano, finding himself aroused by her