106 \ 288

Dragon Food had always been eventually expelled on an out-breath, after spending some time being eaten and fully digested, in the way that happens inside a Dragon, for Dragon Food. A Dragon is like a plane between planes, and this digestion was like becoming a part of every innumerable plane touching this Dragon’s intraplane of elemental existence. Expulsion velocity occurred in rate of experience; interestingly, of course interestingly, velocities varied as Dragon Food careened in a personal form of interdimensional propulsion.

During this ‘time’ of being part of the Dragon’s breath, he/‘e (he’e?) was still part of a part of the Dragon, on a draconid meta-analytical level. While ‘moving’ (which was also being) along a course through the element, the Kao-Sidhe’s existence was in the form of the element, and still in the invert-D bas-relief pattern imprint gestalt of Dragon Food. So Dragon Food existed as himself, with little control except flight posture, in the form of another’s existence in the shared set of tonal keys and ability effects.

And so there were places, experienced in this specific manner; maybe not even as a place, but as an aspect of a place and the realm that encompasses. It may not even be a place at all, but something that happens in many places – sort of like a Dragon’s extended elemental circulatory system. Betimes, Dragon Food would be exhaled with some greeting of awareness, sometimes not. This time it was an energetic all-encompassing sigh of remembrance of all that had just passed; Dragon Food was always glad to hear that sound of the moment after a really excellent meal.

Akralnar was as new in existence as er twin Acamar; between hatching and the meeting of the self, the story of this one was unknown and undoubtedly different. Dragon Food was now a part of a small piece of that story, and knew Akralnar and er element through this part. Describing and understanding the newly hatched element would take people some time, but they had certainly discovered it and been discovered by it. This was the new universe, once again.

Dragon Food recalled while in constant transformation that it was during the experiment, when the two Dragons met their same-self, that he was eaten by an extradimensional as an appealing piece of music which literally transcended dimensions, making the same possible for Dragon Food. He wasn’t worried much about translation of being, since he was still himself. If eaten by a Dragon, Dragon Food is Dragon Food. Once the Dragon’s breath dissipated and he was no longer a part of it, he believed that his being could only resolve in his own dimensional set… surely! Meanwhile, Dragon Food was everywhere within the breath, swirling and unfurling.

105 \ 287

“It is I, my good bros of the snack den,” announced Derringer in leisure suit glory, with a strolling gesture of magnificence after having been let in to the only occupied office suite in the small building. “Have I got a list of links for you. We’re going to read some diaries, go through drawers of underthings, and send them their underwear in a gift box with a note of introduction and a token of our affectionate esteem.”

Fred DeWalt turned from the bank of security monitors he was maintaining. “That sounds ethically dubious.”

“Alas, it’s the line of work we’ve gotten ourselves into,” Derringer said, shaking his head helplessly.

“Have a seat,” gestured Chad Dremel. “Have a slice. Tell us what kind of trouble and/or opportunity we’ve got on our hands, thanks to you.”

Derringer took a seat in front of an active screen in Dremel’s ceiling-mounted setup. “I’m too excited to eat yet. It involves ladies.”

“Utterly terrifying, yet I am not surprised,” quipped Fred.

“Pull up a chair next to me so I can show you how to do this, while I can remember it all.” Chad and Fred did so, facing Derringer’s screen. “So, list.” With a finger he selected a random item. “Public address.” He opened a business page of what looked to be an outgoing life coach. Derringer pointed to the corner of his list, where an address endtag was written. “Secret portal. Some might not have it.” They added the address tag, which took them to a page with a background and nothing else. “Go to the source code.” The page switched from graphics to code. Derringer pointed at the other corner of his list sheet, where there was an alphanumerical string. “Search for this string. It bookends a sequence specific to the site. Record or copy it. Get the admin contact from the source code, and send them this sequence in an encrypted message. Use the subject line: ACTIVATE PORTAL. Then something will happen, with which we need not concern ourselves.”

“And all of these sites belong to… ladies?” Chad worked his logic.

“Should we be worried?” Fred muttered almost under his breath.

“No, this won’t come back to haunt us at all,” Derringer said with loud confidence. “This is all we were asked to do, by our employer and associate. I was not warned of any potential repercussions whatsoever. We have top level authorization, and I am told this is programmatically consensual, and does not constitute a breach. Unlike an actual panty raid.”

“Wow… Splendid.” Chad Dremel had been rapidly flipping through the page links. “They’re all gorgeous and powerful.”

“We have nothing to fear,” Derringer said soothingly. “And now I will have that slice.”

104 \ 286

inferno / \ hidden / \ suppressed / \ combust

There was a draconid melee in an unaffiliated corner of the sublimated Level Plaine, a particular kind of interaction that suited certain elements in certain situations. It was a chaotic simultaneity that tossed various merits of ideas to the top level of awareness, but in retrospect could be re-examined from many sides as a complete dimensionality. The complexity of this one classed it as a concrescence, and Arkuda had decided to join in on this intensity, upon its invitation to er consciousness.

focus / \ channel / \ ignite / \ excite

Arkuda now dreamed in cross-temporal observance, amidst flowers in an unpopulated living corner. The living memory engaged the senses of comprehension like the lingering vapors of incense after the ember is gone, something one can still describe.

balance / \ wind / \ coordination / \ fuel

The Red Nexus ancients had apparently not been eating any Humans since returning from exile. Whether that was a strategic wait, or because they were receiving sufficient direct human communication, was unclear. They were entertaining possibilities for new modes of interaction, more open-mindedly than Arkuda had expected – maybe even moreso than the entrenched authority in the Pan-Galactic Imperium, who had already lost more in refusing to discuss rebalancing power structures by acknowledging new peoples.

scour / \ cleanse / \ renew / \ regrow

Perhaps the Red Nexus were being changed by their current alliance with Hirylienites, Aureny, Vedani, and Kao-Sidhe; having one’s value appreciated can change the nature of destructive opposition when facing others.

reset / \ rebuild / \ reorganize / \ revelation

There was another cross-temporality adjoining to Arkuda’s stream of consciousness. It was abutting to er sphere of rumination, sublingual from the Dragon’s vantage but distinctly verbal. This energetic attention was invited to involvement with these matters. The sunlight Dragon could neither break through to listen without a beckoning, nor ignore it.

103.3 \ 285

“I actually just finished my drink,” confessed the Hoopoe.

“Want another one on me? I’ve been looking forward to a smoothie.”

The Hoopoe shrugged. “Sure.” He ordered a superfood shot, and Ravl Pliskin got a smoothie. They went to sit at the side of the bar overlooking the beach.

“Mmm,” said the executive as his berry & pitch-syrup blend hit his tongue. “Hey – I’m sorry we’re asking you to hide right now. It was not our intent to put you in any mortal danger greater than was already intrinsic to the project.”

The Hoopoe sipped his ultra-green shot good-naturedly. “I stand to gain a lot – despite not having had much of a choice when you set your proposal, that took me some working out to get over.”

“I just gave you a chance to cash out before the game turned against you, and hopefully the outcome is that we both win. I’m satisfied with the talent you’ve brought to the table.” Ravl took a really long suck on his smoothie and finished it with a sigh. “Delicate dealing on our hands right now. Some of the potential advances we’re holding could change the balance of current tensions, which is why we’re trying to keep you all out of it as much as possible. But we’re also working out the profit scheme. Maybe bananas, so hang in there.”

“I’m imagining a banana dance out there on the sand.”

“I like it.”

“Just remember, I’m still a young man. I’m not ready to die. I’m ready to party.”

“Yeah. Let’s do the party. Until then, you don’t have to worry. Call me Ravl.”

103.2 \ 285

A ground car rolled up to the smoothie bar, a comfortable luxury model. The Hoopoe had this feeling like he knew who it was, though he hadn’t been expecting anyone. He’d just handed back the phone.

Someone stepped out of the back of the car on this side, an athletic man with long brown hair tied back at the nape of his neck. Dressed casually but well, he placed a pair of shades on his face and walked towards the board-built establishment. He waved at the Hoopoe as though they were friends. The Hoopoe guessed that they might be.

Strolling up to the young man, the new arrival stuck out his hand. “The Hoopoe?” he asked to verify.

“Why do you ask?” he replied, shaking the offered hand.

“I’m your boss. Ravl Pliskin. This is your performance review.” The young musician paused in confusion. Was there more on the table after this? The Hoopoe sort of hoped not, and it showed on his face. Pliskin cracked up a little. “Really though, I just thought that you deserved a face-to-face progress wrap-up. So I made the time.” He looked around and waved at Lola at the counter.