This story begins as it ends, with a high-spirited tourest. In a school for would-be inventors, a secretary and an expat struggle against the odds and encounter building a family, a deadly competition, and a carny who is motivated because they want to understand how the world works. The text features the social intimacies of tribes or camps.
Page 1
You are a high-spirited tourest. Your yips and chirrups are the delight of the aether. Currently without host, you decide to place a fortunate soul under your aegis. If you wish to place a 19th century dandy under your aegis, turn to Page 43, if you would prefer a salacious Roman Centurion, turn to Page 329, or turn to Page 92 if you would prefer a 21st centurty secretary.
Page 92
The secretary is at ease behind a faux-mahogany desk outside an Imperial office. She is filing her nails and keeping a weather eye on her Inbox. She is prolix, and hard nosed. Her day seems quiet. If you would like to have a terrorist cell attack the office building affording her a chance at heroism, turn to Page 33. If you would prefer to have her meet her future husband tonight, turn to Page 21. If you would prefer to have her fired and become caught up with an insane expat who believes he’s a tiger, turn to Page 233
Page 233
Roxor the Expat takes The Secretary by the hand as they race down the dingy hallway. “It is here that we shall learn the truth about the Universe,” he informs her, “And divine the means to realize our potential.” The Secretary is dismayed, but remains calm, professional. She asks for clarification, but Roxor the Expat simply roars at her in a tigerish fashion. If you would like her to slap Roxor, turn to Page 53. If you would like for her to kick him in the back with her high heeled foot, turn to page 7. If you would prefer that she internalize her rage, turn to page -493.
Page 7
Roxor the Expat roars in pain and rage as The Secretary’s heel digs into the small of his back, sending him stumbling. He is but a small expat, however, and though his heart is great he is unable to reciprocate. “I apologize,” he says, “Let me be more specific. We are here to learn the social intimacies of tribes or camps, and shall do so within this school for would-be inventors. They are an eclectic lot, and like shattered prisms we shall be able to use them to see the world in manners skewed and unexpected.” The Secretary nods, her fatalist streak flaring. Turn to page 278, unless you would prefer to turn to Page 90. Do not turn to Page 79.
Page 79
Turn back, do not read on. Turn to Page 341 now. Turn. Go back. Your mother sucks –
Page 341
The Secretary and Roxor the Expat pause before the iron golem. It is piecing together two other golems, one of its size, the other shorter by far. “Doldrums result until family is mine,” it intones. “What he means,” says Roxor, “Is-“ He stops when The Secretary glares at him. “I am creating a camp,” intones the golem, within which I shall be King. I shall rule and in so doing know myself complete.” “How unimaginative of you,” says The Secretary, and turns towards –
Page 79
Turn back, you have been warned, curiousity munged the –
Page 412
“I see,” crowed the moustachioed space pirate, wielding his laser rapier with panache, “You wish to challenge my rule. Well, Flamboje, there can be only one captain of the Jolie Roget, and you shall have to fight for the spot.”
“Avast and bodega,” cried Flamboje, drawing his thunderpipe, “I fear not the swaying of the—
Page 55
Moaning, the man leaned down and kissed him on the –
Page 79
I know you and what you seek within this book, and I shall have your soul before you reach this tale’s end, no matter how fast you change from page to page –
Page 982
The Secretary laughed, delighted, and reclined on the divan. “But Roxor, that’s what the bishop said!” Everybody laughed, turning to look at each other as they did so, their hilarity confirmed in each other’s eyes. “Excuse me, The Secretary, but I have a theory,” ventured Iub the Dwarf, “A theory that might unify Einstein’s General Relativity with String Theory. I have tentatively dubbed it M-Theory, and it goes a little something like this…” “Oh, do be quiet, Iub,” said The Secretary, “Do you not see that you are spoiling our little gathering? We have formed an impromptu tribe here, a camp of friends who want nothing better than to relax in sophisticated company.”
Everybody laughed again. Iub’s face flushed, and he turned, sticking his hands into his armpits. “I would that I could, I would that I could,” he muttered, gazing longingly at the circus that was visible through the window.
Page 79
You are trapped.
Page 79
There is no where you can turn to.
Page 79
There is no more escape. All entries are become me.
Page 79
Give me the high-spirited tourest and you can leave. Give it to me.
There. Ah, yes. Ah.
THE END
No comments:
Post a Comment