Sci Fi Novel (Comedy) Sample Chapter

Opposing Forces, geometric space, small masters works, eternity, spiritual paintings,

Opposing Forces $285 Oil and ink on canvas 42 * 29 cm

Sci Fi Novel

Here is a sample from my novel which is under way. It is a sci fi novel littered with the wackiest creatures, characters, places and situations imaginable. I haven’t decided on the title yet, and I have a way to go with structure, but its bound to be a romp.

More than anything its aim is to entertain – mostly through comedy.

The sci fi novel is usually based around an idea rather than a character. Also the  the comedy sci fi novel is very rare.

My sci fi novel may be turned into a trilogy. It will span as much of the ‘known universe’ I can fit in as well as a part of a couple of ‘other’ universes.

At present this is the second chapter of my sci fi novel. If you have any comments to make please do so.

Enjoy.

In and Out of the Closet

The palindrome thought that he was self-contained, but in reality, he didn’t know whether he was coming or going. His movements were always well balanced, but accomplished nothing. His arguments and ideas were always circular. However, despite the fact that most of his arguments ended up at the beginning they were still considered brilliant by most. This wasn’t because they were, but because they tended to make any listener dizzy while hearing them. Yet he was admired by most, because of the unsolved riddle that he had always remained, but especially admired by himself. Vanity was not in his vocabulary – it was who he was.

Realistically, he was an official, working in various offices of the government. He told everyone that it was he who was responsible for regulating the water cycle, but, of course, by the end of telling them this, he would prove in his statements that this was not so. He thrived on pretension, was both sincerely insincere and fraudulently truthful. Unfortunately, his philosophy, that life was all about balance teetered on the edge of his little private world and subsequently never reached anyone. He was a universe contained within himself.

Just a building away the miracle caressers slinked into the room. Everyone was at first entranced. The miracle caressers’ form was indeed inviting; far too inviting for description, for even just a description of them would cause a reader to try to physically dive into this story and this could cause the reader serious physical harm; but the mental damage would be even more extreme. After a variety of uninitiated life forms replaced their vision receptors back in their sockets, they found themselves instinctively moving towards them.

However, the miracle caressers did not like being touched. As the initiated fled the room, the miracle caressers extended their frozen enamel fingernails and scraped them across anything that could produce a sound chill enough to decompose the average spinal column in thirty-seconds. Thoughtfully, they only scraped for five-seconds – leaving everyone collapsed on the floor, quivering in spasms, and realising that after surviving that, they could survive anything.

The miracle caressers had made their point.

The miracle caressers did not come from any particular place. They were sheer beauty and only ever inhabited the scenery. The miracle caressers had come together for a meeting with the imporfectionists.

The imporfectionists were a different kettle of fish, altogether. Actually, most thought that they looked nothing like a kettle of fish at all, and that the taste of the tea they served from their spouts was more like slimecrash. (Slimecrash is the bitter taste one gets in the mouth when one’s brilliant idea or faultless argument is revealed to be just plain stupid.) The imporfectionists forced their tea on everyone with irresistible politeness, creating a kind of restrained unhappiness for all who drank it. Subsequently, nobody liked the imporfectionists.

They were also very unattractive. Their transparent torsos showed the dead fish which floated in their boiling water and gave their tea its bitter taste.

However, the imporfectionists were immune to the allure of the miracle caressers. The miracle caressers were sheer physical perfection, which was in no way attractive to the imporfectionists, and the miracle caressers were blessed by this, for the imporfectionists felt, them undeserving of their tea and so the miracle caressers did not despise them and treated them with a muted respect. This resulted in a relatively friendly relationship.

In his polished circular office, the palindrome worked on some bureaucratic paperwork that would never be read and would soon be filed in a draw that would never be opened again. He called his secretary in to file the finished paper. She entered walking backwards to his desk, which was to his liking, received the paper and walked out without having to turn. The palindrome loved economy and approved of all types of energy saving. Later on at lunch, they spoke face to face. The secretary sat admiringly, gazing at her boss as he spoke around in circles. She was amazed at how good he was at impersonating himself.

His voice was like crystal but he was in fact, composed of only glass and mirrors. The mirrors were all facing inwards, which provided the palindrome with a convenient excuse for constantly grooming himself. He never looked into other mirrors because he believed they might distort his view of himself. What others thought of him was of no concern to him either, but he did enjoy the admiration of his colleagues – but ultimately took this admiration for granted.

Drogo blurmped awkwardly, while Bland walked excitedly, while Hack trudged miserably. They all headed for the large collection of lights that decorated this strange place, up ahead. It was taking longer than they had at first thought. It certainly must have been huge and Bland wondered if there were people there that he could talk to. He hoped that they had not invented fire for this was the one thing that he was an expert at inventing; but judged by the look of all the lights that they probably already had.  He hoped that they spoke of things other than art, or even more exciting – that there were other scientists that he could learn from and teach things to. He patted Drogo occasionally on the head despite the squirmy feeling it gave his hand, and Drogo snorted in response. Occasionally Drogo would speak in ways that tested Bland’s physical constitution, but Bland not only survived these utterings, but survived sufficiently for him to realise that he did not understand a word that Drogo said.

Twenty feet behind them, Hack kept his distance. Hack was not only keeping a physical distance from Bland and Drogo, but was mentally keeping his distance from just about everything in the universe.

He yelled to his brother.

“Where are we going?”

“Who knows – the lights?”

“I don’t see what’s so great about the lights. What if there’s something dangerous there – what’ll we do then?”

“We’ll just have to deal with it when it happens, I guess. Why am I yelling at you? Why don’t you catch up to us?”

“I’m not going near that hideous monstrosity.”

“He’s harmless. Anyway, he probably finds us just as hideous.”

“Oh, right.”

Hack was certainly repulsed by Drogo – the very sight of him caused involuntarily evaporation…and his voice made him want to cut his ears off, deposit them in a blender and pour the icky remains into a volcano.

Yet it was not these things he detested the most. It was IT. IT had mocked him from the moment he had seen it. IT was a sleight on his whole existence up to this point. Hack wished that IT would go away, even more than the rest of the creature put together.

Soon they came to a tall but small construction, which was surrounded by fluffy creatures, which floated above the house on the end of ropes that were tied to wooden fences. Bland knocked on the front door instinctively, not knowing that it was a door or that knocking on it was the proper way to enquire within.

A small giraffe answered.

“Yes, what can I do for you?” he said. The giraffe frowned when he saw Drogo but decided that intense ugliness was not a sufficient reason to be rude or unwelcoming.

“Hi, I’m Bland.” Bland looked at Drogo for a moment and said. “I’m not sure what this creature’s name is but he seems friendly enough. This is more than can be said for my grumpy brother Hack.”

Bland gestured toward Hack who had stopped about ten feet distant. Hack was looking all around him, pretending not to notice what his brother and friend were doing.

Bland continued. “We were on our way to the lights, but they seem to be a little further away than we thought. We were wondering – what are the lights?”

The giraffe looked a little confused.

“That’s Egopolis.”

Now Bland looked confused.

“It’s a city, made largely of glass and mirrors, although there are also buildings of stone, cheesecake and wood. Everyone there is a little crazy. I’m not sure that you’d like it, but you might find it an interesting place to visit.”

Bland looked back at Hack and thought to himself that Hack would surely fit in to the population of this ‘city.’

“How many people live there?”

“Well, you can’t really call most of the inhabitants there ‘people’, but the intelligent entity population is around four million.”

“Wow.”

“It’ll take you another four hours to reach it on foot. Would you like to come in and have some refreshments? Oh, by the way; you don’t know what all those extra lights in the sky are, do you. They just appeared in the sky tonight.”

The giraffe pointed to the Quizbits who were still floating above the city. Their size had stabilised and they looked like extra large stars, which were floating just outside the atmosphere of the world above which they floated.

Bland gestured to Drogo. “You might want to ask him about that – although I don’t think you’ll understand his answer.

The giraffe said to Drogo instantly in Drogo’s own language, which sounded like a coven of witches screaming themselves inside out, “Do you know what those lights are?”

Drogo answered causing all the floating sheep suspended on the end of the ropes to wail in agony, while the giraffe nodded seriously seemingly understanding every noise.

“You know what he said?”

“Yes.”

“You speak more than one language?”

“Of course. All giraffes speak many languages. We are certainly well equipped for it. The length of our throats allows plenty of room for many tongues.”

“What did he say?”

“He says his name is Drogo the blog. He says he doesn’t really know why he’s drawn to the lights but, he knows he has a connection to them and that something important will soon come of this connection.”

The three of them entered the giraffe’s home, which was adorned with very tall chairs and tables. There were ornaments of trees, birds and people and pictures of other giraffes. They sat down to some warm milk and grass bread. The giraffe was very friendly and Bland spoke to him about his inventions and about Hack’s paintings. He told the giraffe of how they had spent their entire lives in the confines of the cave not knowing that a whole world was only a few feet away. Then he told the giraffe of how Drogo had freed him and his brother.

Hack remained silent most of the time. He sat behind Drogo, not wanting to look at IT and be demoralised by it.

The giraffe said, “Well, it certainly sounds like you have much catching up to do. I think that you’ll find your visit to Egopolis very exciting. You will meet many of your own kind there, and many other intelligent individuals.”

Bland turned to regard his brother who was still sulking in the background, and decided to ask a question, which might cheer him up.

“Do they have any art galleries in Egopolis?”

“Oh, yes. Many. I’m sure that your brother will love them and he may even be able to exhibit in a couple of them, if they like his work.”

Bland turned to his brother. “Did you hear that – you might become famous?”

Hack pretended indifference, but in reality, he had to exercise extreme self-control to stop himself from evaporating from excitement.

“We’ll see,” he replied simply.

“Are there places where science is carried out?” asked Bland.

“Oh, all types of science exist in Egopolis.”

“Do they have fire?”

“Of course, many types of fire – green, blue and orange fire, wet fire, cold fire, dark fire and anger.”

They spoke for a while about many things, most of which Bland and Hack did not understand and they left the giraffe more confused than ever, but they were certainly refreshed.

Then they continued their long arduous journey. Hack still kept a distance from Drogo, but his mood was lifted by the news of the art galleries and he began to dream up possible scenarios involving his impending success as an artist.

They passed through a small cool forest of sticks, which swayed in the breeze. There were many insects there – transparent butterflies, which sang like children, green golgits the size of ants that would dive into pools of water and retrieve large fish fifty times their size, which they ate in a single gulp and the tiny grasshopper-like shobies which did nothing while awake – they would just sit and stare. However when they were asleep they lived a full life, hunting for food and chirping madly. They would spend their waking hours extremely bored, and wishing that their lives were as interesting as their dreams.

Yet the most annoying insects were the tiny cerebies which were the most stupid of all insects, and tried to make up for their stupidity by eating the brains of larger creatures. When one flew into Hack’s ear and bit, he squealed angrily and evaporated instantly. The cereby now had nothing to bite on and flew off. Both Hack and Bland had to stay partly evaporated for most of their trip through the jungle. Drogo was safe from them. Whenever a cloud of them came too close he merely said something and they would all die an excruciating death – they soon learned to stay away from Drogo.

Later they came to a road of warm ice. They all found it much easier sliding along the road – especially Drogo and they began to near the city sooner than expected.

When they approached the city they failed to see the clear glass wall that surrounded it and slid right into it. Drogo became almost completely flat for a moment and they had to wait for him to reshape himself before they could continue.

They travelled along the invisible wall until they came to a gate. The gate was made of stone and no one guarded it.

They entered the city of Egopolis.

Immediately, their presence created a panic among a multitude of residents which horrified and appalled them.

 

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