The Bumbly-verse

Day 1: 2187.10.24 PET*

Someone always says 'woot' at the commencement of a journey. 'Huzzah', 'Woohoo', or 'Giddy up', punctuated with a seasoning of exclamation marks as per the tastes of the particular year.
    We decided that, for us, this person would be Hieronymous as he is after all in my employ and, as he explained, I should be the one to benefit from hearing an exclamation that no one has ever heard before, a combination of syllables that no human has before uttered; at sometime during the course of our first 12 hour stint. He agreed not to tell me when, nor to give away any clues as to the particular sounds he would deliver.
    I asked what he should get in return and he said that he would be the one to say it.
    He didn't disappoint.
     Hieronymous T Bumbly, humble manservant to a man commonly described as "unruly". Quite, patient, forthright, salt-of-the-earth Bumbly expelled his lungs and verbalized the emotions of the moment in a way that no amount of spelling could do justice to. We were going to the edge of the galaxy.
    Then we let off fireworks, because fireworks in space need to be seen to be believed.

* Paris Earth Time

The journey of Rahj Hadid and Hieronymous T Bumbly is first mentioned in Bumbly Goes Forth.

Bumbly Goes Forth - Paperback: Amazon | Book Depository (free shipping)

BG4th Sampler: PDF

Ideas and nightmares

In answer to one of those perpetual questions, "where do your ideas come from?". While usually best left unanswered, or rationally explained as the natural process of digesting the sensorium one soaks in, sometimes, just sometimes, one has a nightmare. I have learned, overtime, to embrace them, though I may wake clothed in sweat, visions of places I've never been fading from my mind as if they were never there. When they happen they are often some of the strangest thoughts, the most bizarre twistings of my waking reality that one tries to remember as much as one can. Nightmares are not rational, not afterwards anyway. 

The following dream was quite narratorial and I hope one day to develop it further into a story of intergalactic warfare. I wrote this straight after waking and, as is becoming common for me, much of the wording passed through my mind as the dream progressed, internal monologue style.

The first explosion didn't shake us. 

    I noticed a curious zephyr of orange-coloured dirt fountaining into the sky. This was joined by rocks and I pointed for my lover to watch. The rocks grew bigger, one by one, and the dirt stopped and only blocks rose and flipped up. It started about 200 metres away, behind some trees and a row of two-storey shops. It seemed to slow and we, along with the crowd around us, thought it would stop before it reached us. Of course, it did not. The slowing was only relative, each block became distinct from the source; landing and crushing what was beneath it. We started to run, but a flyover was crumbling above us, we did our best to dodge the fall of its fractured pieces. I held her and shielded her as I do when she is cold.

    That part ended and we looked back from whence it had begun. A rattle spread out, fast as an explosion, a clackety metal sound that came at us and went past before we could react. There was no reaction that would have saved us. I wanted to whisper, "don't move," but doing so may have meant my death. I tried to communicate this though, by squeezing her tightly, making it clear I wouldn't let her go. I wanted to whisper, "traps," so she knew what was happening. 

    I recognised the attack, we had simulated it happening many times; although I couldn't be sure what restrictions the traps would impose. They merely lay themselves through me, one filament at a time, cutting without cutting and threading their tension over my organs.

    It seemed Earth had, at last, come to reclaim us.

Pistols

Despite my reluctance to do so, I have begun a collection of hand guns from across the centuries. Violence, once so common, has been largely displaced and redirected, but for much of human evolution our ingenuity was directed towards such things and, as such, reflect our history and development uniquely.

The earliest specimen found so far, comes from ancient China. What is known as a "hand cannon" and was an early example of portable firearms. 

 

 

Before the hand cannon though, there was the crossbow, though my exhibit piece is from much later in the millennium, the crossbow became very popular as it required little skill to operate, thus bringing killing to reach of the masses. 

 

 

In both weapons we can see the development of chemistry, physics and engineering, through trial and error and refinement.

If anyone knows where we can find examples of hand-held projectile weapons between the hand cannon and the crossbow, please don't hesitate to comment below. From here in the 24th Century (at least, that's where we last were in the continuum) the distant past seems quite similar.

A pictorial explanation of my week in Melbourne

Fun was had by all. Some great folk met and great foods eaten.

Pierre Jnr: the first hunt reached final draft. Now it goes to the Bumbly committee.

The Hunt for Pierre Jnr

The Hunt for Pierre Jr - teaser from Xou Creative on Vimeo.

Way, way in the future, in the middle of the 22nd century CE, a team of scientists began a breeding and development program designed to enhance human psionic potential...and they succeeded beyond their worst nightmares.

The Hunt for Pierre Jnr is a seven part series following the activities of an elite group of individuals who have dedicated their lives to track down the most dangerous threat humanity has ever faced: Pierre Jnr. An eight year old boy.

The New Museum

One of the themes for the pictures I'm hanging up in Melbourne this week, is following Bumbly and Sveldt as they build a new museum. The Museum of Unnatural History was destroyed a long time ago (in the future that is), and it took Terence a long time to rest up and feel ready to go back into the museum life.

So, together we are planning the new museum, simply called the Bumbly Museum, drawing up plans, talking to architects and most of all curating. This museum though won't be focusing on the "unnatural" as the more that term got bandied about the less meaning or relevance it had. The Bumbly Museum is going to collect various exhibits that show change through time as well as just anything that tickles the Bumbly fancy.

Here's a collection of space helmets he's ben building up as he's egging around the galaxy.

 

More soon!
 

Pierre and the Punctuation zeitgeist

Spent all day yesterday ploughing through my Pierre Jnr re-read. One of my main complications with this series is the multiple kinds of dialogue, and communicating each one through text formatting. Let me give you an example.

'Normal dialogue is in single quotation marks,' the author said. 

Even though I prefer double quotations marks, but the punctuation zeitgeist is against me on this one, he thought. Thoughts and telepathic messages are in italics; as are words which need extra emphasis.

Messages that come in through symbiot are more like today's text messaging or email, so I've done them up like a play script.

Author: Messages like this have a more deliberated feel.

That's all for now, though will update this post once I've sorted out the two kinds of section breaks.

Trans-temporal interview pt 3

SD: Ah yes. Well. Enough japes. Shall we take a step backwards? (No verbal jousting or trickery now please.) You initially came to some fame as the curator of the so called Museum of Unnatural History. Could you perhaps tell me a little about it?

Bumbly: Ah, yes. The folly of youth, ay what?

    Well, it all began when I was only forty years old, this would be just five years since the successful courtship of Ms Sveldt. We were still enjoying our honeymooning, when my elder brother, Phileas, passed away. I hadn't seen or heard from Phileas for many years, none of us had, but he left behind a rather curious collection which arrived at the Bumbly estate without warning, or invitation.  

    There are a lot more details to it, but it seemed my strange brother had promised this group that he would build them a museum where they, and other more inanimate objects, could be housed and live comfortably. Our hearts went out to them, such an odd bunch of characters led by two gentle mangotans. When Sveldt saw them she immediately invited them in for tea, which, as you can predict, meant bringing the tables and chairs outside as mangotans absolutely loathe having roofs over their heads.

    A rather amusing month followed as we let them camp in and around the estate and, coincidentally, all the other members of the Bumbly family found themselves engaged elsewhere. I laugh to think of how exasperated the cooking staff became- not only did they have to cater for a variety of humanoid and animal diets, but we nightly held fund-raising parties which required all the pomp and ceremony it takes to inspire philanthropy.

    But it was a wonderful time, the collection grew in our very house as guests brought their own, shall we say "unnaturals" and hope no one is offended, until we were fit to burst. Once we secured the sub-tower in Berlin it all went quickly from there and we never looked back (except for that memoir, a short series of articles and nightly when the sun went down).

SD: It sounds like a rather splendid time. Is it possible your trip into the outer reaches of the universe has its genesis in those years at the museum? And I wonder—why do you call it a "museum"? Your "specimens" are living! You certainly won't find many animate things in the museums of my century! Only in zoos... but I fear you won't appreciate that analogy...

Bumbly:  Well, yes. Yes and no. Paradoxically, while the museum was very open and welcoming to all kinds, this resulted in us receiving all kinds. The sudden end of the museum created a void in both our lives that wasn't easily filled; exploring the galaxy was the most satisfying challenge to present itself.

You are right that "museum" may not be the most accurate of terms, but it was better than "commune" or "retreat". And again, I can blame that brother of mine as he was the one who conceived the mad idea in the first place. We do still have zoos, to preserve what animals there are, but we didn't want those connotations. I'm not one to fall back on pedantry, but the definition of museum is just a place that holds items of interest, be it scientific or historical or whatever; so it is only a cultural hangover that precludes the living!

SD: Tell me a bit more about your journey. We now know why you decided to head out into the great beyond. But what did you see? What wonders? Or what horrors? 

Bumbly:  What horrors, beyond the great beyond? What is more horrible or more wonderful than infinity? I think I can't answer at all for "nature".

We saw such things as we'd never imagined, of course, and only a fraction have I covered so far. I hope to do more writing on some of the specific wonderfulness, but haven't found a structure yet. 

I know go on about them a bit, but in terms of what seemed the most different to my understanding of life and how to make the most of it, the Mutilists are a standout. They are a people who have taken body alteration as some sort of transcendence. They pierce and stretch, cut and peel and so much more, all in the effort of changing their perceptual experience. It is very uncomfortable to me, very hard not to stare and just as hard not to look away in shock! But, I must say, beyond that they come in the same ranges of character as, um, the rest of us. —Sveldt and I are determined to see a Putrifist some day, if only to determine if they are mythological or not.

    We also saw life at the Hive, which is, again, a very different way of life. It isn't very insect-like, but they do work en masse. Passing things between them as we do with our own hands. Outsiders are tolerated, and they are safe in their knowledge that none would want to stay. They do not communicate with outsiders. They provide food and lodgings, and make sure you don't damage anything as you explore, but beyond that, no interaction. Totally insular.

    Of course we saw the remnant of GONN, but that doesn't seem to be the only example where humanity has been so reduced to irrelevance. The horrors know no bounds. I have seen no limits to depravity, which reminds me, I must at some time bring myself to talk of menageries. I have not been able to assimilate those experiences properly yet. Not ready to speak of.

There are also many places we could not go, planets and moons with such environments that we would not survive. There is on my list of places to see the planet of Atavism, which is not as imaginative a name as it sounds as it is only a classification for the type of research that goes on there. On Atavism they are attempting to devolve all sorts of organisms — including humans! All sorts of plants and animals subject to conditions that are designed to push them back along their evolutionary footsteps. I hear there is a man much like a dugong who I'd like to meet.

SD: Ah yes, GONN. That sounds like a truly terrifying episode. But hard, perhaps, for a contemporary reader to understand. Most unsettling. Perhaps you could enlarge on it for us. What precisely was GONN? And why was "it" (?) built? 

Bumbly: A dangerous use of the word "contemporary", in the context. But I would think however temporary the contemporary, the GONN event would be disturbing to one and all.

    The God of Nexus Nine's origins are probably a good place to start, though I, not being a citizen of that world, can not be counted on to explain the whys precisely. I think too many have linked the project to the eternal pursuit for a higher being, which is an ongoing theme in human history. On Nexus 9, the ninth planet in a convenient intersection of interstellar trade routes—thus the creative naming— at some point decided that life without a guide was too hard. They wanted something to organise them, protect them, design meaningful, constructive and satisfying lives for them to live. Since there was no hope of agreement on a belief system that could achieve this, they began building an artificial satellite, a moon-sized machine that would provide this function for them.

    Of course, as we all know now, it went horribly wrong. GONN "woke" and immediately sprang into action. Those on Nexus 9 who were unhappy were made happy. Those who didn't fit in with the model society were remodeled. For GONN, humans were clay, or at least their brains were. 

    You could put it down to poor programming but I think the experiment was ill-conceived from the outset.GONN achieved the task it was made for. The citizens were "happy", they had destiny, they were part of a larger narrative; all that sort of thing. 

    The planet would have been left to itself if GONN hadn't extended its reach. I'm not really clear on why it did so, whether its programming demanded it, or whether it simply followed its followers, but its zealotry spread to other systems. Then the Opposition was formed.

SD: And who were the Opposition? Why, precisely, did they object to GONN? Surely if the God Machine could make everyone happy, then that would be welcomed by most!

Bumbly: Well, some people rejected it as not being "real" happiness. Is happiness just a chemical state of mind? GONN's path to happiness often involved altering or wiping people's memories, or changing their thought processes so they merely thought they were happy. I think if GONN had been successful then history would tell a different story and have a different perspective on how best to attain happiness.

    The Opposition encompassed the nearest star systems and a number of corporate entities that were being affected by GONN's actions. At one point GONN detonated a dwarf star simply to remove what it saw as an annoying gravitational influence. This bred a lot of fear for any other actions that GONN might deem necessary and it didn't take long to build up an alliance against it.

    The interesting thing, or one of the interesting things, is that GONN never killed. It just changed. Whether that is the same thing or not is the question. If for example I was subjected to a fickling, what would be left that was me? Is my essence not the continuity of my existence? I think I can get into a lot of trouble pursuing this line of reasoning as it suggests that forgetting something is akin to dying, which at my age becomes a little worrying.

    Did I manage to answer the question?

Free BG4th Sampler

Before anyone asks, yes an ebook version is on the way, but because there are pictures we have not found a satisfactory method of conversion.

In the meantime, please enjoy the first few pages from the book as a pdf. I like to believe there is a certain poetry to the contents page and illustration names...but there is also the preface and introduction.

Download BG4th Sampler_sml

Trans-temporal interview pt 2

SD: The question was not meant to be literal! What I'm referring to is the misunderstandings that inevitably spring up because of the centuries between us. I can't shake the suspicion that this interview is is an amusing jaunt for you! An opportunity for a sociological investigation, prodding the primitives with a stick! Or am I being too suspicious?

Bumbly: No, no, no, good sir. Not too suspicious at all. It is very amusing, but not in a malicious fashion. Should I not be enjoying this interchange? (if so, perhaps this is a primitive attitude I am not sensitive to). Please advise.

SD: Well, I'm not sure. This is a serious business. That doesn't preclude the possibility of pleasure. But it's not to be encouraged for its own sake, certainly! Is your own era a particularly mischievous one? Or are you just a mischievous fellow?! Are any of you capable of taking things seriously? 

Bumbly: Surely it can't be too serious. Don't forget you're four centuries dead from my standpoint. That particular novelty won't wear out soon for me.

    But, to be clear, and earnest, you may fairly classify me as mischievous, if you must, but I shall refrain from making generalisations about the society of my time as any willing to make such commentary most likely suffers from limited sampling and severe pareidolic biases.

Furthermore, seriousness and pleasure need not be mutually exclusive do they?

SD: Ah! I spot the rhetorical trick sir! Your little straw man doesn't faze me! I never claimed they were mutually exclusive. But it so happens that some things are more serious than others. This golden rule has persisted for centuries, and I can't see any good reason why it won''t last another four or so and span yours as well! You broach subjects that most sensible men would label important, and worthy of serious, sombre consideration. Surely there's still something approaching a settled consensus on this subject in your era?! Most of the weighty fellows of your century would agree with me, I'm sure. A modicum of earnestness is appropriate! 

Bumbly: I presume by weighty you speak metaphorically? And one can only presume that "men" includes women, mangotans and humunculi; we collectively and generally refer to all sentient creatures as "people"...

You may not have said they were mutually exclusive, per se, but you continue to imply it is so. I shall put mathematical symbols in as I hear they are popular in your time. You say serious = sombre, but this is an assumption on your part. When confronted with the horrors of the world (by world I of course mean the civilized areas of the galaxy and by civilized I mean people reside there, not conveying any sense of development or society), the natural reaction is thoughtful, somber and earnest; but when in reflection, if one is determined to be dour then the results of your meditation are largely predetermined and the consideration is only for show.

On your second query, of consensus, perhaps if we limit the scope to possible areas of consensus, such as near-Earth; ecumene that have enough interaction that a survey could be done—then I'm sure any arbitrary question would find a range of answers, one of which would naturally be the highest scoring, as per the logical outcome of such contests. Is this what you refer to?

SD: Mangotans and humunculi certainly, but probably not women! Hahah! Am I correct? Hahaha! Ahhh, dear.

Bumbly: I am lost for a response.