USA

“Damn, I cut myself.” I tasted my blood. Sweet. Its color is somewhere in the 668 to 780 THz range and sweet. “Cold Core, some Ander-Tallis trainer you are,” I mumbled to myself.

The courtyards of Katsuro’s castle bustled with dozens of soldiers and servants who hurried along to fulfill whatever order the Daimyo had thrown their way. Some men carried individual weapons, while others lugged entire crates or barrels in their arms through the fortress grounds.

As darkness fell across Tarama, Katsuro Ogawa sat in the uppermost hall of his castle, perched upon the largest and most elegant of pillows in the keep. It was the lone seat on an elevated platform, which he often referred to as his “throne”. Just as it was days earlier at his party, the room was well-lit and crowded by many of the Daimyo’s personal soldiers and advisors.

It was a humid summer night when a feint glow of light was seen by all peoples on the isle of Tarama, no matter how far they stood from it. The light emanated from the pinnacle of a magnificent castle, which was as grand as any Shogun’s in Japan. The people of the island had seen that same glow in the darkness many times before, and knew that it always came from a raucous party being held inside the ornate fortress, and always hosted by the man who called the citadel his home; Lord Katsuro Ogawa, the Daimyo of Miyako.

Driving west up Market Street, the first place they stopped was at police headquarters. Parked in the parking lot, Hurts told Amanda to remain in the car, telling her that he would be back in a few minutes. Ten minutes later, he returned, carrying two walkie-talkies, the type that have extended microphones that can be attached to the lapel of a coat or shirt. He set them down on the seat between Amanda and him.

PREFACE:

She was and is The Obliterating, beyond oneness, and beyond names. She is the It-ness of it all, the mother of all things. She is before any name, any shape, thing, and time. She is sometimes called the encompassing and enveloping or by an acronym, GIA, goddess-in-all.

She knew that once something is, and has a name, its very existences give rise to its correlative and then its dialectic. And that gives rise, eventually, to the myriad things and universes. That would be the cause of troubles.

She did it anyway.

The song “Rudolf, The Red-Nose Reindeer” was being sung by Gene Audrey on the radio as Hurts drove back to his office. Amanda was humming along to it.

Why am I here you ask? I’ll tell you.

I needed a gift for the Earth Winter Solstice Holiday for my wife Susan. She had accompanied me here with the other 49 childless couples to work as “pioneers”. We were establishing The Springboard To Space for future planetary exploitation and travel.

They drove five blocks east down Market Street. They drove to the Wainwright Building which was on the corner of Market Street and Seventh Street. The Wainwright Building was a twentieth-story skyscraper of brown granite and glass. The top three floors of the building housed the employees of International Investment, Inc.

It was four days until Christmas Eve, and the soft, continuous knocking at the bottom of the door finally woke Hurts up. As he lay terribly hung-over on the old, long, black leather couch, with his aching head only a foot away from the door, he first thought that it might be leprechauns coming after him again. He had had some trouble with leprechauns two years ago, in 2009, for trying to steal their gold. Then he realized that he hadn’t tried to steal any of their gold again, so he dismissed it.