THE KARI KRISNÍKOVÁ DIARIES VOLUME II: GOODNITE LUDDITE WARNING: Some readers may find this document offensive, because it describes scenes of extreme and gratuitous ultraviolence, is sexually perverse in places, uses some rather rude words occasionally, and some may also find it offensive on religious grounds. But to censor it would rob it of all intensity, so I hope that you will accept this philosophically, in the name of art. I want to emphasise that it is NOT my intention to promote violence in the real world by publishing this work. It is meant rather as a refraction into surreality of the struggle between Good and Evil in the world. I do not deny that this work promotes Selesianity as a religion, although it does so in a very fictionalised way, which is not intended to paint an accurate picture of Selesianity as a real-world religion. I am not claiming that Monica Seles is God, nor that God recognises Selesian sacraments, I am just giving Monica high praise in my own unorthodox way. If you do not subscribe to these views, I hope that you will accept them with religious tolerance, for we live in a philosophic area of fragmentation, where absolutes are never convincing. The characters and events described in this document are fictitious, and if any correspondences with real characters or events are inferred, they should be treated as personal interpretations, not as facts. Indeed, one of my main objectives for Goodnite Luddite is for the audience to have their own personal interpretations. Goodnite Luddite has deep, hidden meaning from my own experiences, but to make it meaningful to you, you need to associate it with your own experiences. Copyright in text of this document rests with the author, Andrew Broad. All copies of this document, in part or in whole, must acknowledge this by including this paragraph. O God! I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams. [William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Prince of Denmark: Act II, Scene II] 2nd DECEMBER, AS 999 It was at precisely 19:54 and 27 seconds on Selesmas Day - the dawn of the thousandth Selesiad - that Pope Andrew I completed his Match at the Holy Land Monastery. Andrew defeated Sandra Snafus 6-0 6-0, winning every single point in a Match that had begun on the dot of 19:30. Sandra won the toss and elected to serve, but she soon came to regret that decision as Andrew broke serve immediately with pure instant return winners, two-handed on both sides, his body swinging away to make room for the racket - lovely movement, the feet immaterial really, the eye on the ball. Andrew then held serve easily, serving clean aces, frequently wrong-footing his hapless opponent with deceptive tosses. I'd even go as far as to say it's the best serve in Selesia. I don't know another player in the monastery that has that serve that kicks up so high - it's SUCHÁ big advantage. Sandra tried to mix it up, sometimes serving and volleying, sometimes trying to gun with Andrew from the baseline. Poor Sandra Snafus was going through hell, because all her best shots were coming back with interest, often for clean winners. Andrew was hitting the ball so hard and so fast that some of the congregation had to take dramasil to watch him play! Andrew played great spreading rallies, too - making Sandra run from side to side, creating open spaces to hit winners into. His groundstrokes were so flairsome, too: thin and sharp, and taken on the rise - almost as half-volleys. Sandra tried to pin Andrew behind the baseline with deep, sliced backhands, coming to the net behind them, but Andrew simply took the balls early and passed her like she was not at the net. For example, the point with which Andrew won the first set was a perfect approach shot by Sandra that skidded off the line, but Andrew took it as a half-volley - no technique in that shot at all, really, he just hooked it for a winner. In a way it was a little bit ridiculous, you had to laugh, because there was no situation on the court where Andrew didn't come up with a winner. It was becoming faintly ludicrous - what do you do against him? In the end, Sandra resorted to moonballing tactics, but it presented no problems for a man who has lasers for eyes, as Andrew smashed them out of sight. We were actually beginning to feel sorry for Sandra Snafus, who, when she got to the ball, was playing very good shots indeed. She volleyed deep, into the corners. She served well, really. But my lasting memory of that match is the look of total bewilderment on her face, as time and again the returns of serve and passing-shots just whistled past as she groped at thin air. After Andrew hit the final winning smash, the look of radiant joy on his face was wonderful to behold. Indeed, it seemed to him that everything around him was glowing, so delighted was he with his victory. He claimed the very source of joy ran through - it didn't, but it seemed that way. As Andrew embraced Sandra at the net after her dispapsinating defeat, she burst into tears. Andrew consoled her, saying, "It's better to be eaten by Monica than fed by anyone else." "A most original conception, Your Holiness - the Birth of Serena." So said Cardinal Ana Kintobers, Abbess of the Holy Land Monastery, with a touch of coldness in her voice. "I pray that I may assist you in the birth of a new Selesia, where Church and State are one." "In the name of the Father, and of the Daughter, and of the Holy Groundstrokes. Ah-EE!!" "And may the Krisníkován be driven from the land," said Ana, making the Sign of the Knife. [The Devils parody] Oh to capture just one drop of all the ecstasy that swept that afternoon To paint that love upon a white balloon And fly it from the toppest top of all the tops that man has pushed beyond his brain Satori must be something just the same [David Bowie, "Memory Of A Free Festival" from Space Oddity] PROLOGUE: THE SPECTRUM CHILDREN With the accurate understanding of Monica and her game, they went about the work of building a new nation: Selesia. Using the Jet Set Willy Construction Kit promoted by Broadsoft, the Spectrum Children constructed a Digital Abbey that extended through sixty-four rooms. The Abbess, who understood the Selesian doctrine that was handed down from Andrew long ago, reflected the true meaning 2 her Apprentice every day, and she surrendered her discerning of it in2 the Abbess's care and keeping, 4 she trusted she would lead in the right way. The Brethren in subjection 2 the Apprentice, she in subjection 2 the Abbess, and the Abbess in subjection 2 Monica - all 4ever in subjection 2 the Holy Groundstrokes. As prophesied, the Abbess and her Apprentice were tempted by Kari Krisníková. She, knowing full well the Abbess's love 4 Monica, assimilated the Apprentice first - and only. Quite naturally chaos ensued, and the Apprentice and two others were banished from the Monastery 4ever. The Wise One, who understood the law that was handed down from Andrew long ago, held fast in her belief that Monica would bring her another one who loved her so. [parody of Prince, "Rainbow Children" from The Rainbow Children] 13th DECEMBER, AS 999 The three Wierd sisters - Medusa, Satana and Moraga - were huddled around a computer of Spectrum +5 class, evidently to perform a magic ritual. "Sollten wir wirklich den Geist von Kari Krisníková beschwören?" asked Satana. "Áno," answered Moraga. "Je to milé dievca. Mám ju velmi rada." "Einverstanden," said Satana. "Zieh den Kreidekreis! Vorbereit das blaues Feuer! Geister des Interregnums beschwöre ich!" Medusa looked into the blank cyan screen. "Karin... Karin... Karin... Karin... Karin..." she intoned. Suddenly a dialogue-box appeared on the screen: ----------------------------------------------------------------- Unknown File Type You have started to download a file of type spirit Click "More Info" to learn how to extend Navigator's capabilities More Info | Pick App | Save File | Cancel ----------------------------------------------------------------- Medusa clicked "Save File". ----------------------------------------------------------------- Save As... File name: kari_krisnikova.spirit | Save Save as type: All Files (*.*) | Cancel ----------------------------------------------------------------- Medusa clicked "Save". ----------------------------------------------------------------- Saving Location Location: Saving Status: Time Left: ----------------------------------------------------------------- "Chcem sa poobzerat po klástore," announced Satana. I can tell you what they say in space That our earth is too grey But when the spirit is so digital The body acts this way [Marilyn Manson, "Disassociative" from Mechanical Animals] 14th DECEMBER, AS 999 Jennifer Cawkill dreamed she was walking in a ploughed field. She was wearing a white nightgown, and the soil felt sensually crumbolious under her bare feet. But she was distraught, for she was mourning the death of a close friend. "All alone," she cried in her deranged Cockney accent. "All alone in the dirt! We've lost our way, and the little worm won't dance if he's told to!" [Drusilla in Angel] Jennifer saw a stone slab sticking up in the middle of the field. It looked like a headstone, and as she approached it she saw that that was exactly what it was. It bore the inscription "Kari Krisníková burns in Hell". Jennifer noticed something odd about the foot of the headstone. A peculiar cyan glow was emanating from the soil just in front of it! Jennifer knelt down to investigate, and suddenly an arm burst up through the soil and grabbed her! With a great force, a cyan lady thrust herself up out of the grave, so hard that Jennifer found herself up to her ankles in soil. Then Jennifer caught Kari's eyes, and it was like she had been hypnotised. They were deep-set, radiant eyes, so piercing that Jennifer couldn't bear to look at them, and yet so mesmerising that Jennifer couldn't look away. "Be in my eyes," Jennifer heard a voice inside her head saying. "Be in me." Then Kari took Jennifer by the shoulders and bit into her neck! Kari sucked the red blood from Jennifer's body as through a straw. She sucked and sucked until Jennifer's pulse began to slow down. Then Kari took a tiny knife from around her neck, slashed across her own collar-bones, and cradled Jennifer to her bosom to drink her cyan blood. Look into her angel-eyes One look and you're hypnotised She'll take your heart and you must pay the price Look into her angel-eyes You'll think you're in paradise Then one day you'll find out she wears a disguise Don't look too deep into those angel-eyes [Abba, "Angeleyes"] 4th DECEMBER, AS 999 Meet Tristan Brentwood, a PhD student who has submitted his thesis and is awaiting his viva. Fed up with life and the way things are going, he decides to enter a monastery. It was a dark, stormy day when Tristan turned up on the doorstep of the Holy Land Monastery in Selesia. He rang the doorbell. A porter answered it, and showed Tristan through to a room in the monastery. Tristan was impressed with the decor in the monastery - in particular, he liked it how the doorways were not empty, but contained two blocks of floor so that one could jump up and walk through the wall from right to left! Tristan found himself in a room with bare stone walls, and a wooden table with benches. He was alone with a stout lady in her late fifties, who was wearing a white habit. She said nothing, and after an uncomfortable silence, Tristan supposed that she was waiting for him to speak. "Hi! Erm, I was wondering if I might stay here for the time being. You see, I've submitted my PhD thesis and I'm waiting for the viva, so now seems as good a time as any to test my vocation as a monk. I'm so freaked out with my PhD that I need to retreat to a place apart. It's the be all and end all for me. It would mean so much to Computer Science if my thesis were to pass its exam, and I'd be happy to enter a monastery and never speak again!" "We speak!" "I'm sorry, I just assumed you had taken a vow of silence." "There is a time and a place for silence, even in a monastery! Allow me to introduce myself. I am Ana Kintobers, the Abbess of this monastery. And who might you be?" "Tristan Brentwood." "Are you a Selesian?" "Yes, I am a devout worshipper of Monica Seles. I have all her matches on video, and I follow the doctrine that was handed down from Andrew Broad long ago." "May I ask which denomination?" "What do you mean by `denomination?'" "The Orthodox Selesians follow Andrew's Selesian doctrine, and consider themselves the true trunk of Selesianity, but there was a Reformation which produced several branches. There are now Monicans (extreme Selesians), Majolites (who recognise Iva Majoli as the successor to Monica), Jelena's Witnesses (who recognise Jelena Dokic as such), and a number of small cults. The denomination of this monastery is Western Unorthodox - a unification of Selesianity with the concepts of We Pretty." "We Pretty? That's my favourite Jet Set Willy game, even though lay players can't get past the first room because of their ignorance of jumping through wall-blocks!" "Quite. Anyway, first things first. Are you baptised?" "No; I've just been following the ways of Selesianity since I found out about it on Andrew's website." "Then I must baptise you into the Selesian Church. I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and if you agree, say `I do.' Okay?" "Okay." "Do you reject Kari Krisníková?" "I do." "And all her works?" "I do." "And all her empty victories?" "I do." "Do you believe in Karolj Seles, Father of Monica and Creator of her Game?" "I do." "Do you believe in Monica Seles, his only Daughter, our Lady, who was born of her Mother Esther, was stabbed and forced out of tennis for two-and-a-half years, but returned in glory and is now seated at the right hand of the Father?" "I do." "Do you believe in the Holy Groundstrokes, the holy Selesian Church, the Communion of Saints, the Forgiveness of Sins, the Resurrection of the Body, and Tennis Everlasting?" "I do." "I baptise you in the name of the Father, and of the Daughter, and of the Holy Groundstrokes." "Ah-ee!" "Karolj Seles, the powerful Father of our Lady Monica Seles, has given you a new birth by water and the Holy Groundstrokes, and forgiven all your sins. May he also keep you faithful to our Lady Monica Seles for ever and ever." "Ah-EE!!" 8th JANUARY, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood, Sister Daniela Heelhedová, Brother Lemuel Stillborn and Sister Paquita Karamasalata were sleeping on the mosaic stone floor of the pantry in the Holy Land Monastery. They were taking it in turns to keep watch in case anything good should arise - or indeed, anything evil. It was Lemuel's turn to keep watch as the other three slept. As Tristan drifted off into sleephood, he dreamed that he was still in the pantry with the other three, but there was something strange about the mosaics on which they were sleeping. There was a faint cyan glow in the cracks of the mosaics. It would get stronger and stronger until the whole pattern underneath each of the sleepers was illuminated, and then fade away again. Lemuel fell asleep during his watch. He too dreamed about the cyan-glowing mosaic patterns, but he was aware of an evil presence in that stone floor. He then saw a cyan wraith arising from the mosaics under each sleeper! The four cyan wraiths lurched up over each sleeper. They were transparent, and stood with their feet in the sleeping bodies like ghosts. Lemuel was paralysed with fear. The wraiths drew cyan swords, raised them slowly above their heads. Lemuel wanted to scream, but no sound came. The wraiths then brought down their swords and hacked Tristan, Daniela and Paquita to bits! Only Lemuel rolled out of the way just in time. The wraiths then came together as one, clashing their swords above their heads with fell cries. They then merged into a single, opaque wraith. This wraith took the guise of a cyan lady, built like a stick-insect, with a face so beautiful and terrible that Lemuel was both transfixed and couldn't bear to look at it. The eyes - in shadow yet bright and sharp - seemed to pierce his soul like obelisks. Lemuel panicked and ran from the pantry. He ran up flight after flight of stairs until he was on a neverending circle of stairs that went up and up and yet kept returning to the same place, like one of M.C. Escher's drawings of impossible objects. Lemuel looked down the stairwell and saw the wraith slowly climbing up after him. She went on and on until inevitably she was on the same level with him. She chased him round and round the circle, and to his horror the circle began to shrink! It shrank and shrank until she just reached over the bannisters and skewered him with her sword. When Tristan, Daniela and Paquita awoke in the pantry, they found Lemuel's dismembered body lying beside theirs. In the dead of night she comes to me Swirling dreams through a mosaic hole "Goodnight, Luddite" she says to me And contaminates my soul 8th DECEMBER, AS 999 Love, like a rose in bloom All of the Spectrum Children Will feel it soon Right and down, the word travelled About this energy Until it reached the Banished Ones Who just wanted this love 2 cease They now fallen in2 Kari Krisníková's dream And they built a Digital Abbey Or so it seemed In this brilliant cyanness So-called angels of white "Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies" And all the Spectrum Children Will play and fight 2 defeat the Krisníkován 4 the one who sits on the right "4 HER, WE'RE WILLING 2 DO THE WORK!" The Banished Ones approaching the Monastery shouted obscenities. They tried 2 confuse the Abbess and defrock her Apprentice. Furthermore they demanded compensation 4 their time spent in the Monastery b4 the exile. This was noise! "So b it," said the Wise One, and gladly obliged with a Spectrum +5. The Banished Ones accepted it, and returned 2 their place of birth in Auda City. As 4 the Spectrum Children, they began reconstructing the Digital Abbey. Room 2 room they went in search of those colour-cycling items. [parody of Prince, "Digital Garden" from The Rainbow Children] 13th FEBRUARY, AS 1000 Sr. Josephine Tennezinal dreamed she was at a maritime village. The sky was azure, and there was sand in her sandwiches. Josephine decided to go for a swim, so she jumped through an innocent-looking block so as to land exactly between on top of it and on the side of it. She fell into the sea, but to her distress she kept falling down and down through the water, not being able to swim back up again! Josephine found herself in the monastery's tennis-court, which was completely submerged. To her horror, Josephine saw a great cyan shark at the other end of the court! She tried to swim away from the court, but no matter how hard she swam, she couldn't move from her current position! The cackling shark glided over to her end of the court. Josephine closed her eyes in denial - perhaps if she couldn't see the shark, it wouldn't be able to see her either. She remembered from A Nightmare On Elm Street how to deal with monsters in dreams: turn your back on it, and you take away its energy and it disappears. But Josephine couldn't wish away the shark, and she felt large, sharp teeth close on her leg. She had never felt such pain. It felt like hot fire shooting through her body as the shark ate her, and it wasn't long before she knew no more. The brethren got a terrible shock in the morning, because Josephine's cell had blood everywhere, and there was nothing human about her digested remains. Hitler has only got one ball The other is in the Albert Hall His mother, the silly bugger Cut it off when he was small She kicked it across the Atlantic Sea It landed in a coconut-tree The fishes got suspicious And they had trollocks and bollocks for tea [schoolyard rhyme] 4th DECEMBER, AS 999 "This is the court where we play the Selebbath Matches," explained Ana Kintobers to Tristan Brentwood. "Yes, you have to sacrifice a life to collect the top item, and the entrance to the Sacristy is for experts only." "The Selebbath what?" asked Tristan. "The lay community celebrate the Selebbath (Saturday) by watching one of Monica's matches on video, but here in the monastery, it is celebrated by the victory of a Selesian over a Krisníkován, which not only symbolises but embodies the triumph of good over evil." This had Tristan's head buzzing with questions. "What do you mean by `not only symbolises but embodies'?" "I mean that Monica Seles is truly present in the Selebbath Match, under the appearance of the Selesian player. The Selesian player does not merely represent Monica - it actually /is/ Monica in the body of the Selesian. The name for this phenomenon is consubstantiation. The process by which the Selesian player becomes for us the Body and Blood of Monica is called transubstantiation. After the match, the Selesian player becomes his or her normal self again." "How can such a claim be substantiated? I challenge you to submit the transubstantiated Selesian to a DNA test!" "The challenge is futile. It's the true presence of Monica, but under the appearance (in all physical aspects) of the Selesian player. That which is supernatural cannot be reached by natural senses." "You've got an answer to everything, haven't you? Who are the Krisníkováns of whom you spoke?" "Long ago, I had an apprentice by the name of Krisníková." "Not Kari Krisníková, the art-ritual murderess from We Pretty?" "The same. Karin was the sweetest person you had ever seen - so pure and natural and innocent. She was a great ambassador for Selesianity. But Karin was seduced by the cyan side of Selesianity, and turned to evil. "Pride and jealously induced Karin to attack Andrew's doctrine and invent a new creed. She wrote that members of other religions should be persecuted; that vows of fanship might be revoked; that unmarried people might have sexual relations; that Selesians might hit one-handed groundstrokes, &c. She wrote that the celebration of the Selebbath was an abomination; that Monica was not truly present under the appearance of the Selesian player; and that there was no necessity to keep the Selebbath holy at all. She wrote against almost every article of Selesian belief. "Karin kept her cyan leanings hidden for a long time, but eventually her heresy was exposed by an email-trace, and we had no option but to cast her out of our monastery - out into the big bad world, where there would be weeping and grinding of teeth. "Outside the monastery, Karin committed a series of unspeakable crimes, was eventually brought to trial and was found guilty of abstract behaviour in the first degree. So she was deported to the seventeenth century, and that was the last we heard of her. We do not know what became of her then. "But there is a cult on the outside, dedicated to her. The Krisníkováns worship her, follow her doctrine, and commit terrible atrocities in her name. That's why every Selebbath a Selesian defeats a Krisníkován, right here on this court. You cannot appreciate the white side of Selesianity without the cyan side to oppose it!" "What do you mean by the cyan side of Selesianity?" "A Selesian's strength flows from the Holy Groundstrokes - two-handed on both sides they must be. But beware: flailing single-handed forehands, sliced backhands - the cyan side of Selesianity are they. Easily they flow. If once you start down the cyan path, forever will it dominate your destiny - consume you it will, as it did my former apprentice!" [Star Wars parody] "Does `cyan side' refer to the white/cyan colour-symbolism in We Pretty? Could you explain, please?" "First of all, the term `white and cyan' is a fallacy. It simply is another way of saying `this or that'. Let's examine the term `this or that' in its ultimate form, which is: `this' means the truth, or `that' which is resistant to it. When a minority realises its similarities on a higher level - not just `white' but `people of tennis', and higher still `2-handers', and even higher still `Selesians', and yet higher, `the Spectrum Children'. When this understanding comes, the so-called minority becomes a majority in the wink of an eye. This action will cause a Reaction or Resistance. The source of this Resistance must b banished, as it is in direct conflict with the initial action. It cannot b assimilated, 4 its very nature is resistance. In other words, one cannot serve 2 masters. U either hit 2-handed, or 1-handed with sliced backhand." [parody of Prince, "Family Name" from The Rainbow Children] "And what if the Krisníkován should win the Selebbath Match?" "There's a prophecy that if ever the Selesian should lose the Selebbath Match, it would signal the end of the world and the coming of the Antiseles!" 30th MARCH, AS 1000 Br. Quentin Threadsafe dreamed he was in the refectory with 99 other brethren. On the table at the front, there were a hundred red gobstoppers. They each had to eat one of the gobstoppers, but one of them was poisoned with cyanide. Whoever ate that gobstopper would be dead in twelve seconds! Quentin fingered his gobstopper with trepidation. Perhaps he would be the unlucky one to get the cyanide! Might as well get it over with. Quentin sucked his gobstopper, and Sr. Wynne Elsatratya dropped dead. The screw is a tightening atrocity I shake, for the reeking flesh is as romantic as Hell The need to have seen it all The voyeur of utter destruction - as beauty [David Bowie, "The Voyeur Of Utter Destruction (As Beauty)" from 1.OUTSIDE] 5th DECEMBER, AS 999 Tristan Brentwood was in the computer-room with the other novices, attending the noviciate computer-course (little did Tristan feel he needed it, having just submitted a PhD thesis in Computer Science!). The lecturer, Thomas Wasp, was a brusque man with a loud, objectionable voice. "If you listen to my voice, you'll probably notice that I'm from America. If you listen carefully, you may realise I'm from New York City. And in New York City, when someone wants to tell you to fook off they say `fook off' to your face, and you have to look `em in the eye and face the consequences. So would the person who wrote `fook off' on the attendance-sheet like to say `fook off' to me now? Come on asshole, say it. If you give me that shit again, I'll have you thrown off this fooking course. Don't think I can't trace who you are. Now who doesn't understand that? Huh? Who doesn't understand that?" Tristan squirmed uncomfortably, avoiding eye-contact. Br. Wasp went on to explain the setup of the computers in the monastery. "We have a cluster of Spectrum +5s, connected to each other via a campus-wide Ethernet - a Spectrum on every desktop, running Broadsoft software. Via a PC-emulator, it is possible to access the Internet. Since this monastery is entirely self-sufficient, we run our own ISP called CompLine." Tristan asked Ana Kintobers (who was still acting as his mentor) to log onto the Internet so that he could check out his favourite Yahoo! Groups: "selesians" and "manicminerandjetsetwilly". For only senior brethren are allowed to access the Internet, since it offers many temptations for those with insufficient wisdom. Ana ran the PC-emulator. "I hate having to use Micro$oft Window$, it's not e-kosher," she muttered. Ana opened the CompLine launcher and, as Tristan courteously averted his eyes, typed in her password. But she accidentally typed it into Tristan's text-editor instead of the CompLine window. "Oh shucks!" she exclaimed, and deleted her password. Ana typed her password into the launcher window, and chaperoned Tristan's surf of the Internet. Meanwhile, Br. Wasp had another bone to pick with his class. "This course is not a place to have a discussion about religion. With all appropriate respect to everyone, this monastery is about Monica and tennis, not anything having to do with religion. I'm sure there are appropriate chat-rooms on the Internet where those religious chat-seekers can discuss their concerns and views. I respectfully submit that this course is NOT the place. Now who doesn't understand that?" Ana logged out and left. Tristan clicked in his text-editor window and pressed Undo, causing Ana's password to appear! Tristan gasped, and then started rubbing his hands with glee. From now on, he could surf the Internet unsupervised, and visit ANY site he wanted! Monday's child is fair of face Tuesday's child is full of grace Wednesday's child is full of woe Thursday's child has far to go Friday's child is loving and giving Sunday's child must work for a living But the child that's born on the Selebbath day Is fair and wise and good and gay [nursery rhyme] 31st DECEMBER, AS 999 Tristan Brentwood was having a rather muddled dream in which he had been sent by Ana Kintobers to pick up the Selesmas dinner (even though he had arrived at the monastery two days after Selesmas Day) from the local Barber-Surgeon's shop outside the monastery. Tristan was somewhat distressed by the unusual system in the shop: it seemed he had to choose his merchandise and take note of the price, pay for it at the register, and take the receipt to another counter to receive his purchase. However, he did appreciate the way he had to time his entry through the cyan-flashing door, and the jump through the overhead wall-block! Tristan selected a large dinner wrapped in a leathery red material like edam-rind, but transparent. After psyching himself up for some time, he paid for it and got his receipt, but it was after that that things went wrong. There were two counters for receiving purchases: one attended by an assistant, the other not. So Tristan queued for the first counter. But just as he was by the second counter, a man arrived to attend the second counter. Tristan showed him his receipt. "After these people!" barked the attendant. Tristan sheepishly turned away and continued to queue for the first counter. "Next please!" barked the second-counter attendant. But Tristan was now in the mode of queuing for the first counter, and had rigidly made his mind up against being served by the nasty man at the second. "NEXT PLEASE!" Everyone stared at Tristan, who, as in all times of distress, was swaying subnormally and going "voy... voy... VOY!" in a deep, bovine voice. "What's wrong with this guy?" they asked. Tristan just stood there awkwardly, still waiting for the first counter. Tristan felt absolutely mortified, but he got his way in the end, and the girl on the first counter handed him the dinner he had selected. "Mr. Brentwood," she said. "Here is package that came for you this morning." She handed him a beige envelope marked "CORRECT RESULT". As Tristan grasped the envelope in his hands, he realised he was waking up from this dream. But he badly wanted to know what was in the envelope, so he grasped it tightly. As a child he had tried to pull objects out of a dream, but they just slipped through his fingers like sand. This one didn't! To his amazement, Tristan woke up in his dormitory-bed still clutching the envelope! It had no address or stamps, just "CORRECT RESULT" printed on it in large black letters. It contained a video. Not having access to a video-player right now, Tristan slipped the video under his pillow. Time enough to investigate the matter after the Selebbath Match... Don't talk of dust and roses Or should we powder our noses? Don't live for last year's capers Give me steel, give me steel Give me pulses unreal He'll build a glass asylum With just a hint of mayhem He'll build a better whirlpool He'll be living from sin Then we can really begin [David Bowie, "Big Brother" from Diamond Dogs] 31st DECEMBER, AS 999 Ana Kintobers, playing the Selebbath Match, was in real trouble against a cyan-spirited Kariite (extreme Krisníkován) who went by the name of Kata. Despite breaking serve early in the match, and serving for the first set at 5-4, Ana made a bunch of errors, was broken back, and ended up losing the first set 7-5 after a long game with four set-points on her serve at 5-6. Ana managed to get an early break in the second, only to be broken right back and find herself 2-3 down. Ana was having an uncharacteristically inconsistent day - she would hit one brilliant winner, followed by a really errant shot on the next point. She's so used to playing like an invincible superwoman that she couldn't cope with these errors from herself, and there was a look of panic and despair on her face, rather than the usual look of positive intensity. Kata, on the other hand, was playing out of her mind. Single-handed both sides, she was hitting her forehand almost as hard as Ana's two-handed shots, and hit many winners off that side. But what made life most difficult for Ana was an exaggerated sliced backhand like a spinning knife that kept the ball low, dying away on the slick blue Supreme court. Ana likes to hit the ball early and hard, but the slice made her bend down and hit the ball late, robbing her of the pace she normally thrives on. Moreover, Kata was amazingly athletic in moving from side to side, making it even more difficult for Ana to dominate and overpower her, as Ana had done to all her previous opponents. We noted that Kata had no spin on her service-toss - a true sign of Krisníkovánic possession! ;-) Tristan Brentwood, looking on, was struggling with conflicting emotions. Of course, as a devout Selesian, he knew that Ana must win at all costs. But Kata was a very pretty girl: slim, fair-haired, and with the most arresting face he had ever seen, with her deep-set, radiant eyes; her sexy, gawping mouth; and her spiky nose at just the right quirky angle for him. As Tristan looked into Kata's wistful eyes, in a perverse way he wanted /her/ to win! The atmosphere in the congregation was one of absolutely palpable tension as Ana and Kata traded breaks again, and Ana found herself having to serve to stay in the match at 4-5. To the immense relief of the congregation, Ana held serve for 5-5, broke for 6-5, and with an authority that she had been lacking in the match up to now, served out the second set 7-5. Kata reacted to the loss of the second set by playing a loose service-game in the first game of the third set, as Ana broke for 1-0. This seemed to have broken Kata's spirit, as she sat at the changeová with her head in a towel, apparently sobbing. But the games were still tough as the next four went with serve until Ana led 3-2 (despite having two points for 4-1). It was at this point that play was suspended due to a total solar eclipse. The entire congregation looked on horrified as the moon crossed over the sun and darkness fell. Some of them were even foolish enough to look at the sun directly, and got a permanent ring burned onto their retinae! On the resumption of play, there were loud cheers of "Ana, Ana, Ana", but it seemed as though there were echoing cries of "Kata, Kata, Kata" from we knew not where. Ana, serving at 3-2 with a break, held for 4-2 - but only after a very tough game. But just when it looked like she was out of danger, she had another error-strewn patch and got broken back for 4-4! As panic set in again, Kata held serve for 5-4, making Ana have to serve to stay in the match again. The atmosphere was almost theatrical now, as the fight for dominance between good and evil raged on. The rallies were nailbitingly tense, and the contrast of styles would have made the quality of tennis mouthwatering to behold, were it not that (due to the prophecy of the Antiseles) the world was at stake! ;-) Tristan did not like the weary slump of Ana's shoulders as she sat meditating at the changeová. Kata, on the other hand, looked vital, and it seemed to Tristan that cyan flames were running down her racket as she stood up, and went to receive serve like a cold-blooded assassin preparing for the kill. "When this kind of fire starts, it is very hard to put out. The tender boughs of innocence burn first, then the wind rises, and then all goodness is in jeopardy." [The Log Lady in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me] Ana dropped the first point for 0/15 - never a good thing when you're serving to stay in a match. She won the second point for 15/15, but netted a ferocious forehand (which made an almighty crack as it hit the netcord) for 15/30. The next point was so dramatic that everyone seemed to experience it in slow motion, as Kata pulled Ana off the court with a wide-angled forehand, and sliced a backhand into the open space for a winner. Ana was thus facing two match-points at 15/40. Her face was red, sweaty and despairing, and she looked sick to the stomach. She still went for it for all she was worth, but hit a down-the-line forehand into the tramlines to make an end of things. Prick your finger, it is done The moon has now eclipsed the sun The angel has spread his wings The time has come for bitter things [Marilyn Manson, "Antichrist Superstar" from Antichrist Superstar] 2nd AUGUST, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood dreamed he was watching Kata practice on the Selebbath court. She was wearing an apron, and a pair of wooden clogs that exposed her ankles nicely. She seemed to be playing against an invisible opponent, because her shots were coming back from thin air on the other end of the court. Tristan was standing in a corner of the court, but no one seemed to be able to see him. Indeed Kata walked right past him without batting an eyelid. Suddenly Tristan was up in the stands, watching Ana and Kata play Match. At 2-1 in the third set, Tristan left the court because he needed to go to the toilet. He went through a door and found himself in large warehouse, full of large wooden boxes. Boys were carrying boxes about. Tristan tried to navigate the maze of wooden boxes. His `bog-fever' was getting worse. Eventually, to his relief, he found a wooden door marked "Toilets". Tristan went through the door and found himself in his grandmother's living-room. It was full of ornaments such as glass paperweights and china shepherd-girls. Evidently the `toilets' were these small mahogany boxes. Tristan took off all of his clothes, crouched down over one of the boxes, and started `the music'. Kata entered, took off all her clothes, and likewise crouched down over another mahogany box. This made Tristan diamond-hard! But then, to his acute embarrassment, Tristan's whole family including his grandmother came in and saw the whole situation! Tristan woke up, and was immensely relieved. He didn't want to experience such embarrassment ever outside of a dream. Little Polly Flinders Sat among the cinders Warming her pretty little toes Her mother came and caught her And whipped her little daughter For shedding her nice new clothes [nursery rhyme] 1st JANUARY, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood couldn't wait to see what was on the "CORRECT RESULT" video that he had pulled out of his dream on the morn of the Ana v Kata match. Mindful that monks were strictly forbidden to keep personal possessions in the monastery or to receive gifts or letters from outside, he kept the video hidden under his mattress. Tristan decided he would sneak off in the middle of the night to watch the video. The brethren went to bed at 11pm each night, so Tristan waited until after midnight (and the turn of the millennium!). His pulse racing, Tristan slowly and quietly slid the video out from under his mattress, and tiptoed out of the cells (aka bedrooms!) in his bare feet. He snuck down the pitch-black nightstairs, just under where Bill Ledgard the porter kept watch on the roof with a lantern. Tristan made his way to the TV-room, and carefully slid the video into the video-player. He adjusted the volume to the minimum at which he could hear it, and pressed play. To Tristan's astonishment, the video was of the Ana v Kata match that had just taken place! He watched it from beginning to end, and was just stunned at the flairsome tennis from both players, the theatrical atmosphere of the match, and above all Kata's beauty. He felt really nervous and guilty about watching it and enjoying it so much, when it had ended with such a disastrous, nihilistic result, but he found its qualities so compelling that he could not resist. Just as he got to the end of the video, Tristan heard a scuffle in the corridor outside the TV-room. In a panic, he ejected the video and concealed it inside his habit. Ledgard entered the TV-room. "This area is closed now - get out!" commanded Ledgard. "By what rule?" asked Tristan. "I don't see anything to indicate that it is closed." Ledgard's face went puce with anger. "I MAKE THE RULES ROUND HERE!!" he yelled. "I'm sorry," said Tristan gently, "but I have an out-of-hours pass, so I am entitled to be in any public room of the monastery at any hour." "GET OUT NOW BEFORE I CALL SECURITY!" boomed Ledgard. "I'm sorry, this has never been a problem before," said Tristan, as he gave up the fight and went back to bed. He was very upset by this run-in with a porter who didn't know the rules, and cried himself to sleep. I am a pretty little cyan girl As pretty as can be And all the boys in the neighbourhood Are crazy over me [nursery rhyme] 14th FEBRUARY, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood was having a Freddy Krueger nightmare. He was in a large five-storey mansion, with many rooms and staircases. He was trying to find the best hiding-place before Freddy appeared in the mansion. Tristan found a dark bedroom on the third floor, which looked very suitable as it had no windows, and had a large double-bed with just enough room for him to slide under it and not be seen. But his sister Aleksandra was in the room, lying seductively on the bed in a white silk négligée, her thin shoulder-straps hanging down coquettishly. So sexy girl, eighteen years old with smooth bare legs, and arches in both the right places. "Come and get me, big boy," she cooed, "I'm on the Pill". "Dee-ate... dee-ate... dee-ate... DEE-ATE!" bleated Tristan in a low voice, his eyes glistening. Tristan was tempted, for she was an immensely hot babe, but knowing full well that artificial contraception is a mortal sin, he left the room and, dribbling great strands of precum, ascended the small wooden staircase to the top floor, remembering that Freddy was coming for him. The fourth floor was small and dark, and it too initially seemed like a good place to lie low. But Tristan looked out of the window onto a horde of paparazzi and helicopters, all busy taking photographs, caught up in the hype of the new Nightmare On Elm Street movie. In a panic, Tristan rushed downstairs, wondering where he was going to hide from Freddy now. He ran into Freddy on the second-floor landing. "HMM-MM-MM-MM-MM-MM-MM-MM-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" cackled Freddy. "Pay the pet for the rug-rat bitch!" Tristan grabbed a long, hollow metal cylinder, shouted "VOY!" at the top of his voice, and plunged it into Freddy's right eye. "AAAGHHH!" shouted Freddy, falling backwards. Tristan literally pressed home his advantage, pushing the cylinder in so deep that it graunched against the back of Freddy's skull. But Tristan couldn't make it come out the other side, and then he woke up. I'll just sit here and read my book While I wait for my meal to cook If an arrow comes then I will duck And how I wish I was old enough to 30th APRIL, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood was making his confession, as all brethren were required to do on the anniversary of the Stabbing, which marks the start of the Selenten period which goes up to Seleaster (the anniversary of the Comeback, 29th July). His confessor was Sr. Daja Heelhedová. "Forgive me, sister, for I have sinned," intoned Tristan. "This is my first confession." "Tell me your sins, my brother," said Daja. "I have been selfish and overindulgent," said Tristan. "What do you mean by overindulgent?" "I have used the monastery's resources to pursue my own interests, and I have given in to my bodily desires without restraint." "Is there anything else you wish to confess?" "Well, yes... I can hardly bring myself to tell you this, but I have a crush on the Krisníkován who beat Ana Kintobers!" said Tristan, blushing to the roots of his hair. "I keep watching that match over and over again, in secret, and I just can't get it... or /her/... off my mind. I don't want to love her, I know how wrong it is. I look at Ana and I'm like `What the Hell am I thinking?', and then I see Kata and I just can't help the way I feel about her! I'm so sick of analysing the whole thing in my head - it's just such a mess!" "You must catch hold of your temptations while they are still young, and dash them against Seles," advised Daja. "Whenever you feel a temptation coming on, you should utter an ejaculation - these are short prayers such as `Sweet Monica!' - and tearfully reflect on the suffering Monica endured for our sins." "As penance for your sins," said Daja, "you must practice barefoot on gravel for the rest of Selent. Now go to the Correction Room and pray four decades of the Rosary: a Joyful Mystery, a Sorrowful Mystery, a Glorious Mystery, and a Mystery of Light." "O Monica, because you are so good, I am very sorry that I have sinned against you, and by the grace of the Holy Groundstrokes I will not sin again," recited Tristan - knowing full well his evil intentions for the future! "I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Daughter, and of the Holy Groundstrokes." "Ah-EE!!" There was a little girl Who had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead And when she was good, she was very very good And when she was bad, she was horrid [nursery rhyme] 20th MAY, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood dreamed he was at a high-school reunion for his academic year. He and his classmates were in an assembly, standing up, watching a slideshow. He wasn't sure whether it was outdoors or indoors, because they were standing on grass, yet there were walls. He didn't notice whether there was a ceiling. It was quite dark. One series of photos showed Kata emerging from the sea onto some sort of pier, and walking up the pier. Tristan had never seen the object of his obsession so scantly-clad before, and it absolutely got his pulse racing! Someone slipped a packet of crisps into Tristan's pocket. He instantly realised that she had given him something very precious, and he felt extremely grateful to her. So he said `hi', but she ran away - it was obvious that she had wanted to give it to him without him noticing who she was. But he knew intuitively who she was, even though he didn't know her by sight. She was Kata's mother! The packet of crisps had a black cover, and had Kata's full name written in cyan. It was open at one end. Tristan then realised that Kata herself, dressed in black, was standing next to him! He folded her in a warm embrace, and kissed her passionately. But as he was making out with her, he realised he was waking up. He tried desperately to cling onto his dream, but she just slipped through his fingers like sand. However, he did find that he had pulled the packet of crisps out of his dream. He ate the remaining crisps, and it was only then that he realised that the name on the packet was written in white now: Jennifer Cawkill. Up in my lonely room When I'm dreaming of you Oh, what can I do I still need you [The Coral, "Dreaming Of You"] 26th JUNE, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood was in the CompLine computer cluster out of hours, surfing the Internet using the password he had captured from Ana Kintobers long ago. He posted the following message on the Selesians Yahoo! Group: ----------------------------------------------------------------- Subject: Ana meets the Taxwoman ;-) I know this sounds obsessive, but I can't help wondering what happened to Kata, the jezebel who beat Ana Kintobers on that Black Selebbath last December! ;-) I've been watching the video of that match repeatedly, and I have to say that despite the loss (which surely prophesies the end of the world and the coming of the Antiseles ;-) ), it was a great match in tennis-terms from both players and, it has to be said, in terms of Kata's beauty :-o Repent, for the end of the world is nigh! I was also wondering what make of racket Kata uses - the one with a triangle painted on the strings. So, does anyone know where Kata is now? ----------------------------------------------------------------- Within an hour, he had two replies: ----------------------------------------------------------------- What have you been smoking? No one wants to hear about "Jezebel" or your ridiculous religious comments about the "Black Selebbath" in relationship to Ana Kintobers. Also, if you're wondering what the triangle represents, it was probably a pink triangle representing a gay/lesbian connection. I'm sure that will sit well with your religious fanaticism. I have told you before that it's time to see a psychiatrist because you're simply not well. Lastly, how you make reference to Kata being a "Taxwoman" is another twisted and warped interpretation on your part. Take your nonsense to your church or temple as this eGroup is no place for it. Frankly put, I think you're as dangerous and sick as Günther Parche, the guy who stabbed Monica Seles. Maybe if you got laid more often you would not be so obsessed with Kata, and if you stayed away from Church long enough to see daylight you might see that there is more to life than ridiculous prophecies that frankly no one pays attention to. Do you actually think anyone gives you any credibility with your rambling emails? Not to mention your sick commentary about other athletes. I wouldn't be surprised if your name is on the same security watch lists at European tournaments that was created after your colleague Günther Parche put a wrench into Monica's career. Your sanity is no better or different than Günther's and don't think you're fooling anyone. And lastly, get a life. You shouldn't be surprised by this email, you are sending out garbage en mass to large email groups and deserving of direct and frank replies to your rambling nonsense. Best wishes to you. Thomas Wasp. ----------------------------------------------------------------- The second reply was much more welcome. It was from Medusa Wierd, and contained no message, just an attached file "kari_krisnikova.spirit". His blood up from Thomas Wasp's vitriolic email (at least he wouldn't realise that it was Tristan, as Tristan had posted under a pseudonym), Tristan didn't consider the possibility of a virus as he downloaded the file... Ledgard the porter strode into the room. "GET OUT!" he barked. This time Tristan was ready for him. "If you come in here one more night and say that, I'll punch your lights out!" he boldly answered back. Tristan showed Ledgard his out-of-hours pass, and a printout of the rule by which pass-bearers were allowed to use the computer cluster at any hour of the day, which he now KARIed with him at all times on the offchance that he might be challenged again. No more would he put up with being kicked from pillar to post by the authorities! "If you apologise like I know you're going to," said Tristan smoothly, "I might just forget to lodge a complaint against you." Motor-sensational Paris or maybe Hell (I'm waiting) Clutches of sad remains Waits for Aladdin Sane (you'll make it) Ooh, who'll love Aladdin Sane? Millions weep a fountain, just in case of sunrise Ooh, who'll love Aladdin Sane? (Sane the lights of popes who ride a darkened road) [David Bowie, "Aladdin Sane (1913-1938-197?)" from Aladdin Sane] 27th JUNE, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood dreamed he was in a dark log-cabin. Written on the wall in cyan chalk was a four-letter word beginning with `K', but he couldn't make out the other three letters. Tristan saw a beautiful lady. Her body was glowing a radiant cyan, her face - in which he recognised she who had beaten the Abbess - looked almost impossibly pretty, and Tristan was enraptured by her strong magnetic presence. "Name your heart's desire," she said. All Tristan wanted out of life was to get a PhD. "Whenever there is a conflict between religious rights and human rights, the human rights should take precedence. Is that something you might agree with?" Yes. "Are you saying that because you think it's what I want to hear, or are you saying that because you've thought about it and you truly believe it?" I believe it. "What /did/ I just say?" That human rights should take priority over religious rights. "Do you love me?" As surely as Pope Andrew is a Selesian. "Then I propose the following pact. If you pass you will diminish, go into the west, and remain Tristan Brentwood. If you fail, you will give your body and your soul to me. Does that sound reasonable?" Yes, that would be some compensation! ;-) "Then sign your name in blood on this piece of paper, and throw it in the fire." Tristan did so, and the paper burned with cyan flames. "Good. Your reward will be plenty for us befitting the hardships you have endured. You will see me one more time if you do good. You will see me two more times if you do bad." [inspired by the Cowboy scene in Mulholland Drive] Come in by the gold gates or not at all Take of my fruit for others or forbear For those who steal, or those who climb my wall Shall find their heart's desire, and find despair [from C.S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew] 29th JULY, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood was alone in the CompLine computer cluster, celebrating Seleaster (the anniversary of Monica's Comeback, when she had instituted the Selebbath with a victory over Martina Navrátilová in an exhibition-match) with an illicit surf of the Internet (having tried - unsuccessfully - to give that up for Selent). The door opened behind Tristan's back, and Sr. Daja Heelhedová entered. Tristan tried to minimise his Navigator window, but to his embarrassment he hit maximise instead, and the image he was looking at expanded to fill the whole screen. He blushed. "How did you get in here without the key?" asked Daja, in her cute East-European accent. Tristan paused uncomfortably, and he nearly went into one of his `modes' where he wouldn't respond. "Who, me? It was open," he said, not thinking of a better explanation in the heat of this unexpected moment. "Well, that's very strange," said Daja, "because I just got the key and unlocked it." At that point, the telephone rang and Daja answered it. Tristan felt relieved. When Daja put down the receiver, her eyes were full of tears. She came over and sat down next to Tristan. "I'm afraid I have some terrible news," she said. Tristan's pulse started racing with anxiety. Daja put her hand on Tristan's knee. "There's no easy way to say this," she began, "but... but..." and she burst into a bout of uncontrollable sobbing. Tristan felt most awkward with this waterfall of emotion and sat there stiffly, `voying' softly, not knowing what to do for the best. "Ana has... Ana has..." spluttered Daja, and broke down again. Tristan went cyan with shock. "Ana has contracted the Ebola virus," Daja finally managed to get out. "There's no cure." You must see the movie, the sand in my eyes I walk through a desert-song when the heroine dies [David Bowie, "The Secret Life of Arabia" from "Heroes"] 12th AUGUST, AS 1000 Br. Androdais Babayaganov dreamed he was walking up a cliff-path directly behind Sr. Ĺsa Masari, returning from a fishing-trip. At least that's who he thought it was, but even in his dream he was vividly aware of Joseph Griffin's dream-theory, which states that if you recognise someone's face in a dream then they are a symbol for somebody else, whereas if you feel their presence without seeing them then they really are who you think they are. He could see her body but not her face. Androdais saw Ĺsa tread on a spiky green creature the size of a tennis-ball. Ĺsa collapsed, clutching her right foot and howling in agony. Her sole was covered in green slime, and the spikes had punctured her skin. Now that he could see her face, Androdais took careful note: her face was indistinct. Androdais knew what he had to do. He put her foot to his mouth, sucked out the poison, and spat it out. But, as he was doing so, he didn't notice the Magenta Pirate materialising up in the clouds above them! The Pirate was holding a giant fishing-rod, and letting down a string with a sharp hook on the end. The Pirate hooked Ĺsa right through her right eye, and she screamed in agony. The Pirate then proceeded to wind up the string, pulling Ĺsa into the sky by the part of her skull behind her right eyebrow. Androdais looked on in horror as Ĺsa was pulled halfway up the sky, then the hook snapped off the string and she fell into the sea. Androdais ran down to the beach. But the sky darkened, and suddenly the sea became a giant lake. On the lake there was a cyan swan. He watched it as it swam towards him, but as he caught its eyes, he was petrified. They were beautiful, radiant eyes, but they pierced him like a basilisk. Androdais stood there, rooted to the spot, as the swan came out of the water, stood up and spread its wings. With one swift blow of its right wing, it broke Androdais's neck. The brethren were distraught to find the bodies of Androdais and Ĺsa in their cells the next morning. They found Androdais with his neck broken, and Ĺsa's very bedraggled, waterlogged body; her right eye was completely gouged out, and the autopsy revealed curious scratchings on the inside of her skull. Little Miss Muffet Sat on a tuffet Eating her curds and whey Along came a spider Who sat down beside her And ate up Miss Muffet today [nursery rhyme] 17th SEPTEMBER, AS 1000 Tristan Brentwood was sitting on the garderobe at 23:59 when Ledgard the porter entered the reredorter. "I'm locking up now!" he announced, and switched the lights off. It happened so suddenly that Tristan didn't even have time to yell "OYYY!", this eloquent phrase only occurring to him thirty seconds after Ledgard had locked the door and left. It certainly gave Tristan ample time to consider the age-old question: how does a blind man know when his ass is clean? And since he was in for the night, it gave him plenty of time to reflect. Little did he know that the door could be unlocked from the inside without a key (there was a special knob to comply with fire-regulations). At least he was in a place with water and toilets - no bog-fever for him! ;-) Meanwhile, Ana Kintobers was in the cells, checking the beds of the brethren for personal possessions, in order to uproot from the monastery the evil practice of private-ownership. When she inspected Tristan's bed, she threw up her hands in horror at what she found: a video, a cyan-soaked tissue, and an inverted knife! Oh Mummy, Mummy, Mummy There's something up my bummy It's long and brown It's coming down 27th SEPTEMBER, AS 999 Tristan Brentwood went to the bindery because he had to get his PhD thesis bound before he submitted it the next day. Tristan gave the two copies of his thesis, The Beliefs of Monica Seles, to the man in charge of the bindery, Nestor Storm-Egg. "Hard-bound or soft-bound?" asked Storm-Egg. Tristan didn't like the disdain with which Storm-Egg flipped his precious thesis up and down to get the sheets of paper aligned. "Soft-bound, please," replied Tristan. "That'll be sixteen pounds," said Storm-Egg. Tristan wrote a cheque, and handed it to Storm-Egg. "Where's your cheque-guarantee card?" asked Storm-Egg, brusquely. "I haven't got one," said Tristan. The concept was new to him. Little did he know that his debit-card would do for a cheque-guarantee card. Storm-Egg's voice turned sour. "All I can say to that is, if your cheque comes back for any reason at all, the university will cancel your degree." "Is that so?" Tristan answered back. "All I can say to that is, if they do anything of the sort, I will take military reprisals!" "You and whose army?" asked Storm-Egg, sardonically. "Me and my two aeroplanes!" threatened Tristan, in the worst possible taste. Come on, come on You think you drive me crazy Come on, come on You and whose army You and your cronies Come on, come on Holy Roman empire Come on if you think, come on if you think You can take us on You can take us on \ [Radiohead, "You And Whose Army?" from Amnesiac] 18th SEPTEMBER, AS 1000 Ledgard unlocked the reredorter, and found Tristan asleep on the floor. He shook Tristan's shoulders to wake him up. "You must come with me to the Abbess's office at once," announced Ledgard. He threw a bucket of cold water in Tristan's face, for the sleepy like to make excuses. Picking the sleep out of his eyes and eating it, a bleary-eyed Tristan followed the porter to the office of Ana Kintobers. "On page 224 of your thesis, you state that whenever there is a conflict between religious rights and human rights, the religious rights should take precedence," said Ana. "Is that something you still stand by now?" Yes, muttered Tristan in his usual just-got-up neanderthal voice. "Are you saying that because you think it's what I want to hear, or are you saying that because you've thought about it and you truly believe it?" I believe it. "So, since you believe that, you can't really be interested in securing your own salvation." How's that? Ana showed him the video, the tissue and the inverted knife that she had taken from Tristan's bedding. Tristan blushed to the roots of his hair, wishing that the floor would just open up and swallow him. "I always thought you knew it was me!" said Ana, laughing inanely. "Well now," said Tristan, mustering bravado, "I'm not gonna talk about Kari, in fact we're not gonna talk about Kari at all, we're gonna keep her out of this. Who do you think this is there?" [Philip Jeffries (David Bowie) in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me] There was a knock on the door, and Thomas Wasp entered. Ana placed her hands on Tristan's head. "Karin! Spirit of destruction! Spirit of grief!" she intoned. "I bang you with chains of iron! Lessen your hold and come out of him now! Out in the name of Monica! He was intended by God to be a virtuous man! Out Karin! Out! Out! In Monica's name!" [parody of Brian Eno, "The Jezebel Spirit" from My Life In The Bush Of Ghosts] But the effort was uSELESs. Kari's defense was too strong. Ana said to Tristan, "Unless you have anything else to say in your defence, would you mind leaving us while we deliberate? Just wait at your desk, and we'll come for you in about half an hour." Tristan left the office, and Ledgard escorted him back to his desk. Tristan wanted to run right out of the monastery and far away, but the presence of Ledgard resigned him to his fate. It was the longest, most agonising half-hour of Tristan's life, as he waited to receive the most important result of his life in the most inhumane way possible - in person. He really had no idea how his thesis would be received, but what made matters worse was that he felt the viva had gone badly. The questions had been so different from the ones he had anticipated, and he had given short, monosyllabic answers. The viva had passed so quickly, before he felt he had time to do himself justice. Had his thesis said everything, or had it said nothing? "Time," said Ledgard, and led Tristan back to Ana's office to rejoin the examiners. 2nd SEPTEMBER, AS 1000 The night after Br. Ebenezer Topspin microwaved the monastery's cat Fleabag, he had a weird dream. He was in a jungle, and all was quiet apart from the chirping of the crickets and suchlike insects. But suddenly he came across a sight that froze his blood. There in a clearing was a scary cyan tiger! Ebenezer was so petrified he couldn't move. Beads of sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision. When he wiped his eyes he was indoors, in a room with the giant microwave inside which he would surf the Internet. He jumped into the microwave and slammed the door shut, for fear of the tiger. To his horror, he realised that the microwave-door couldn't be opened from the inside - he was trapped in a very confined space! Suddenly the microwave became a lift, which KARIed him up past the window. He found himself in a room large enough to stand up in, with water up to his ankles. There in the room with him was the lady who was making it all happen. "You like tiger, no?" she said, with a playful laugh. "I have bought it in Germany like six years ago." Ebenezer was speechless. "You must do exercises to test that you are ready for operation, otherwise operation will kill you." She made him stand up on his hands to do the exercises. She demonstrated each exercise with her feet, but he had to do it with his hands. Thus he found himself having to walk around on his hands, and splash up water with his hands. Then she demonstrated something so paradoxical he just couldn't do it, and he fell down. She said not a word, and he just lay there for minutes, his head spinning. Evidently she had given up trying to help him since he wouldn't help himself. When the time came for his operation, he found himself in the microwave-lift, which took him up to the incinerator. So will it be at the end of time, when the angels come to separate the wicked from the just to throw them into the blazing furnace where there will be weeping and grinding of teeth! [Matthew 13:40-42] In the morning, the brethren found Ebenezer's charred remains in his bed. Miser miser modo niger et ustus fortiter! [Carl Orff, "Olim Lacus Colueram" from Carmina burana] 18th SEPTEMBER, AS 1000 Ledgard showed Tristan back into Ana's office. "Now this is of course subject to the ratification of the Senate and of the appropriate committees," prefaced Ana. "Do you understand that?" Tristan nodded. His heart was beating so fast he thought it was going to explode. "Mr. Brentwood, there's no easy way to say this," said Ana, "but your thesis has been rejected." Tristan's heart plummeted down into the pit of his stomach, and he began shaking. "Technically, that's the C(ii) box - rejection without the option of resubmission. You are advised, however, to submit the thesis - with revisions - for the degree of Master of Philosophy." "I have already an MPhil," mumbled Tristan, struggling to fight back the tears that were welling in his throat. "I'm sorry, but the thesis was so completely inadequate that there was barely any point in holding the viva, let alone permitting a resubmission," explained Ana. "And let me say how thrilled I am," said Thomas Wasp to Tristan, "to learn that you have failed your PhD. By the way, how does it feel?" Tristan didn't dignify this with a response. "You overstepped any reasonable boundary long ago, it's just taken others a little longer to recognise your rambling nonsense and garbage," continued Thomas, rubbing his hands with glee. "I hope your sojourn at this monastery is over as many of us asked you nicely to stop spreading your Selesian crap over the monastery months ago. You refused and became increasingly defiant while /increasing/ the amount of religious references in your diary... instead of curtailing them. My wish for you is that you get the psychiatric help you need and hopefully, upon your release, return to society a healthier individual than before." "Your sojourn at the Holy Land Monastery is indeed over," said Ana to Tristan. "You can lurk off and starve in the gutter along with the rest of the world's losers, see how clever you feel then - sleeping in wheelie-bins, and peddling your fresh young body off to an old man's lust for 40p. I don't care, I'm sorry. Life's tough! I shan't shed a tear [Matthew in Game On]. Depart from me you cursed, into the fire prepared for Karin and her angels!" [Matthew 25:41] Addressing Ledgard, she said, "Bind him hand and foot and throw him outside, where he will eat his excrement and drink his urine." Cruising round me, the flames burn my body Wishful beginnings Does this remind them again and again? You're a sorry little girl Sorry little girl Shame burns Breathing in, breathing out Breathing in, only doubt The pain must feel like snow I'm no longer your golden boy Sorry little girl I'm sorry little girl So so sorry little girl The pain must feel like snow There you go Cover me, cover me If you are the wings We were deep in the dark air And this one will never go down We had such wishful beginnings But we live unbearable lives [David Bowie, "Wishful Beginnings" from 1.OUTSIDE] EPILOGUE And if one would look in the right place that winter, he could see Tristan's body, frozen in the snow. Can you succeed where Ana failed? First, you need to collect 256 items... So it goes Just a searcher Lonely soul The last of the Dreamers [David Bowie, "The Dreamers" from 'hours...']