The Trigyalon Complex by R.K. Galvez (reading diary txt) 📕

…That's before we got hired by C.O.G. after doing the subversive fandango with US2. I told my acquaintances to shut up and something, I can't remember what now. I hope I wasn't too wey-hey for them. You know how I get on meds. Anyway, it happened; things always happened.

It was not that an odd, actually; Professor Norkgrub was on the buttons yet again. We were big everywhere else apart from on Earth. Fucking typical! Exo-planet trans-dimensional pzionik burn-out; Norky decided to take us back to the Ally Pally in 1967. We did not mind. I think we did it again…WE DEFINITELY DID IT AGAIN[cue: Caps Lock error: artistic capitalization crisis...]

…I had to go inter-planetary; I had been up in the air for too long. I returned to the flat in Kilburn; my previous abode had been in an interesting exo-planet about the same size of Venus but with almost no water at all...

This made me think about the future: the future was a bit problematic. The future does not exist but the idea you can take any kind of future for granted flies in the face of the chaos theory we all surrender too. We have to find and fund our own beat… Destiny only rides again if there might be some entity around to notice. Some poor organism that can recognize the ectoplasm smoke up we all seem to be stuck in…

…I did not mind that being a snail man. I seldom see any snail people around these days. Maybe it has to be one of those extinction gut feelings; I tried to ignore and covered my shredded wheat in bananas. The bananas had been laced with some powerful… [message ends here: last thing in mind-log]

[Mindlog resumed: 23/23/45]…I think I might be last of my kind. Oh well. It does not matter; I suppose it never really mattered…

Krugler suddenly came around from the E.T.B.E stasis module. He had a strange vision. Maybe it was nothing. He looked around the capsule and noticed he was still floating in space, somewhere in the Milky Way at a guess; Krugler had fallen out with the navi-watch monitoring system. It was too chatty and Krugler wanted to meditate.

Obviously his current reality had not panned out too well for him; he wondered what had happened to the strange people he had met. He should have followed the Life Coach Guru's rules.

Krugler had the feeling he was being dissolved; he looked at his skin: it was total mush, he was dissolving. he was a liquefied goop. He somehow remained trapped in the human form, but it was not solid. He wondered if the space capsule was helping him to stay human…

Krugler had no idea. He tried all comms; nothing worked. He needed to use evasive measures…

Krugler had no idea what the evasive measures were. He was not trained for this kind of space travel. He was more of stationary kind of guy; he missed his desk and his little consoles with little games on them. He did not mind that kind of space life. Good honest colonizing as he used to call it in his youth.

"Hello…Hello?...Heeeellllloooooo!" Krugler cried into the comms.

No response. He was alone again.

Krugler was close to crying; he realized he was also unable to pleasure himself. In frustration, Krugler managed to activate the toggles that controlled all the stims that were left in his capsule; at least he really would go out on a total high. That was a good thing according to Krugler…

Krugler did not get that far; he must have activated the exo-planetary time-slide. This was used a lot by astral experimenters like Professor Norkgrub and his kith. It was salvation for Krugler; but Krugler got off the time-slide too early. He was a bit too hasty; maybe he thought he would go lightspeed. He also had a thing for lightspeed champion sounds. He did not mind that kind of gig.

That was the bizarre thing; nothing happened for a hundred years. in that time Krugler spent time solidifying; then sublimated into gas, before solidifying yet again. The chemical cycle continued for an unknown amount of time; the capsule- i-e-chrono-tik was unable to register any time; time was out of the equation, but Krugler tried not to cry too much.

The one sole function he had control over -sadly, crying - was starting to hurt him now. His crystalline tears had formed into semen coloured sacks around his eyes and it was tough to knock them away; particularly when the capsule's power-save facility shut off the mystical anti-grav unit.

The C.O.G. stims had little effect on his uncontrollable desire for re-humanization. It was all too late for Krugler anyway.

He crash landed his capsule near some kind of mountain on Xiombarga13ZX. A strange exo-planet that was in fact a giant potato, covered by an aggressive mould called Cuthbert.    

Chapter 33. Mystery School Initiation (with Internalized Dialogues)

Note:

AS DOCUMENTED BY GAMUSSI RUBELLO, Investigative Dimensional Correspondent.

TIME: SOME TIME IN EXISTENCE AS I HAVE NO TIME DEVICES TO MEASURE TIME.

I rarely visited public houses so I do not know why I decided to go to this one.  I was interested in little of what happened in this world - it was all quite hopeless. The arts bored me, and the sciences infuriated me. Religion was zombified and was rabidly copulating with the ghoulish politics of the time. I was depressed by my nihilism, but felt it was unavoidable in a capitalist-democracy. But my state-supported trust fund gave me limited freedoms, which I remained grateful to accept freely. I feared it was worth the risk to attempt doing something other than wait for my repeat prescription. After all, my "life" experience placement at the Post Office was merely a publicity stunt to show that I publicly defied class-definitions and any stereotyped class stratification. I knew I was hated but I did not mind being alone or - what populists might call - a loser, or a “Loner”. Most of the people I accidentally associated with had tendencies to group together and protect their own interests. I wanted to be individual, but able to join them whenever I felt like it. So I waited for my friends.

Bizarrely, I was waiting a long time. But "Life is Sheep" so said a famous seer I have now forgotten but can never forget the tune of. There was a din of popularized tunes from an antique jukebox, which everyone ignored. It was just like any other pub: completely bland and deliberately trying to masquerade as part of the community. It was awful. The perspiration and excrement constantly dripped off the walls, which were already congealed with solidified excrement, dried mucus, and other fluids from previous clients.

I clearly remember avoiding all the seats. Some Old Ones looked annoyed. They were stuck in their ways. Many still smoked despite tiny signs saying to avoid this public behaviour. These signs were deliberately ignored by the majority of clients, who had re-entered the Earth. Thankfully for them, the air outside remained foul - heavily polluted as always. By the bar, which was falling apart slowly, I saw a dishevelled fellow in a chrome bobble hat. I instantly recognized this being, despite meeting him just now.

He looked up, glaring at me, as he drank his pint of frothy drip tray remnants. His features lacked any ethnicity. It made him stick out. He enjoyed not being noticed though. He had travelled far and had a nomadic nature instilled within him that I secretly yearned for myself. But this did not stop him enjoying a drink. And the drip trays were free. He nodded at me. I noticed a collection of papers in front of him. His cardboard office ledger had ‘Z.F. Galvez' scrawled on it in a faded felt-tip. I was baffled at first, but approached him. We didn't need to speak, it was as if we had already spoken before. He grunted. I silently passed wind. No-one knew our covert communication was in place. Pzionik forces were set in motion,  other forces were at work, as I thumbed through his grimoires, absorbing various pieces of mental information. They might be useful - or useless. Who knows? I did not know it before - but I knew it all now. I felt confident of this now, especially after this brief telepathic dialogue. It was as if our souls had somehow aligned - it might have been our pre-destined thinking. It had united us. 

I had not known he was an abductee. R.K. Galvez had been probed for so long, he remained permanently traumatized. He had devoted his entire existence to trans-dimensional pursuits. I explained, mentally, to Mr Galvez that I was pleased to meet him. He did not return the greeting immediately. But he showed me a vision. It appeared out of nothing and fluctuated around the public house.

It showed a planet, covered in spiked mountains and volcanoes. There was no ocean and the sky was blood red. The entire terrain was of hardened crystallized powdery rock. Galvez nodded towards the images. It was as if we had received mental pictures from some type of satellite. I ignored his references at first. He finished his foul-smelling beverage. I ordered another sherry from the ghost-like bar staff that moved between the levels. However, I did not have a chance to pay for this rare treat. Galvez reached out and grabbed me, as he got pulled into the vision by some unknown, easily unexplainable, force...

Chapter 40 Soul/Body/Love [In Motion]: YAW WAY

Enter ELAINE PETTIFER [A female Marlowe.] According to our records, she currently resides at a secure facility at an unnamed location....

Being a dumb dick can be easy. Smart people do it naturally. Dumb people don't see it as dumb, as they're too dumb to see it. Now I look around my place and you know what I see? Zero. That's right. I'm no blind person, but I've been blinded: blinded by the total dross that has been caused by humanity.

I want to put down the most depressing, the most negative, thing about us "humans". We're a disease, which is my favourite cliché as it remains true - who truly knows the horrors of genes? I cannot wiat for the mutation to evolve us.

Though, I am not really that qualified to say much on it to be honest, my proudest achievement being a Near-Pass [N-grade] at A-Level. But the earth will win, I hope. At present, however, I don't know how to be a very good agent yet, so I'll be a dick. It's the best way to find anything out.

I'm staring at my neighbour. A right freak. Listens to "music" all the time and thinks it has to be the cool “druggy hipster”. Think it's "all cool" when they’re dead? I don't get it. Maybe I'm getting old, but I'm a late twentieth century freak. I want this world to end soon. I want the planet to be fine, but maybe humanity can get wiped out real quick. I was trying to re-animate the dinosaur samples I had in the microwave, I don't think it'll work. That neighbour really annoys me -- full of liberal tosh about whatever and walking around naked at all hours. I can't stand it. So I stare at my neighbour. What a boring fuck-head!

So: I knock on the door. It opens. He looks like a fried rat.

His pupils were dilated; his dry mouth looked like an old mummified fanny.

"Yep?"

I think: CRAZY ALERT. I say: "Hello Johnson!"

"HUH?"

"Johnson, you little shit, have you been fucking your dog again?"

The fag-freak neighbour laughs -- laughs right in my face, covering my face with droplets of warm saliva….Can you believe it? Can you feel it? I taste his saliva, the weird metallic flavour; saliva is addictive. He's a weird entity, as he hugs me and gives me a fifty and sends me on my way, patting my bum.

As I go,