This story was originally written a few years back as a foray into the world of science fiction comedies, prompted by a love for the worlds and fiction of Douglas Adams as well as Cosmic Horror and and general science fiction that is just a bit out there, as they say. As such the idea arose in regards to a very down-to-earth farmer from the rural valleys of England and his meeting with the most unusual of guests in almost every aspect. I may possibly publish more chapters in the future, since there is quite the backlog, but this will do for now.
Ægidius Appleby lit his pipe. He looked out upon the field where the barley danced with the cool west wind. The summer had been tough, but now the harvest neared and thus also prosperity. Now he could take a well earned rest after his toil and trouble on the fields of his forefathers, which had been his vocation for the past 50 years ever since he was a wee lad. The horse was parked in its shed, the plough as well and now he was going to park his buttocks into his comfy, regular chair and listen to the news over the radio whilst he smoked on his pipe. A completely and totally ordinary, average summer's day, the very same as it had been for the last fifty years. The only difference was that his father, Augustus, had wandered heavenwards. Augustus had before his father Octavius and before his father Jack, ploughed the fields. This was the ancestral farm where generations one after another had followed the tradition. Thus sat Ægidius as the very last member in this noble lineage and pleasantly enjoyed his rest.
His son Æneas was to follow in his footsteps. If only Æneas had not had the thoughts about a doctor's degree or God forbid it law school. The traditions were to be maintained and preserved! The sun turned in, the murk of night fell over the canopy and the moon clocked in. Ægidius like wise turned in and waited for the sun to clock in. Thus the circle could once more continue its usual passage.
The horse neighed uncontrollably outside. Ægidius arose like lightning. Grabbed his shotgun. Loaded it. Jumped into his dungarees and kicked the door open. Never had Faxy been so disturbed. In the very same motion he had kicked open the door he was greeted by a refulgence of indescribable colours. Purple, yellow and green. Everything blended together and separated. A fog of blinding colours. He could barely see Faxy nor hear its neighing as a tremendously piercing tone, an unearthly thunder dinned over the farm. The aether itself was vibrant and tonitrous. The tone itself increased in potency and then sank, reduced to the point where it sounded like that of a voice. Still imperceptibly deep. Ægidius could not fathom what the sound sounded like. His brain sped with several neurons an hour to process the information. It sounded like a voice yet it wasn't. Not that of a human. He could sense words, but not those of any human.
The voice continued ceaselessly with a series of unconnected utterances whereto it at last approached a recognisable language as his brain had grown accustomed to this or at the every least deciphered this fulminating Stentor-voice.
Although Ægidius never had heard the word before his brain recognised it in some strange fashion. Ægidius wasn't so easily frightened though. He cocked the gun and most certainly wanted to know what this cheeky fog wanted with him and at such a discourteous hour of the day.
There went a moment and a voice tore its way through the air.
The purple, yellow and green light within the blinding fog began to spin, dance and orbit each other. Their waltz had a peculiar choreography. Almost like a birth. Their astral dance became more chaotic, but it had contrarily concordance. Their dance grew tighter. Ægidius could hardly believe his eyes. The air grew humid. The heavens above him shot forth lightning. The lightning hit the fog. More lightning hit it. All of the weather went amuck in this numinous dance. Ægidius could almost see a rhythm in the lightning strikes and their contact with the light, together with the light's humming and whirling. Curiously not a bad melody, he thought to himself. Suddenly a myriad struck down in an instant down into the fog that almost glowed so strongly that night became day. Ægidius waited patiently. The fog solidified as if embraced by a field of electricity. Behind this celestial shell he noticed that the three colours went into a union. Forming an entity of sorts. Now the shape behind this transparent, but radiant cocoon took upon itself a humanoid likeness. Legs, arms, head, an entire body, but the dimensions were monstrously huge. Ægidius witnessed how this shape now towered above him. The cocoon grew denser and denser until the light had taken a firm formation. No longer danced, but still pulsated in a consistent rhythm.
It grew even firmer and then a mighty shockwave was emitted from it. Everything around was blown away, but Ægidius stood defiantly. The field blew to and fro. Dust was whirled up. Day became yet again night. The fog of light was gone and Ægidius beheld now a creature, a purple man. 4 metres in height. His eights beamed, pulsated as the previous fog, but with a regular harmony.
Ear, nose and mouth had it. A glowing tuxedo of yellow and green nuances clothed this visitor. The man removed some of the dust from his tuxedo. Sighed and utter yet another word.
Ægidius was somewhat impressed by the waltz of light and next this strange guest's appearance. HE took his pipe out of his mouth. Didn't quite know if he should use his gun.
“I AM DENOMINATED B100B, BUT DUE TO ANIMADVERSION OF INCOMPATIBILITY WITH THY CURRENT CEREBRAL COGNITION, CANST THOU REFER TO ME AS BOB”
Ægidius smoked his pipe and said now slightly suspicious:
“What the devil be ye gibberin' on 'bout, beetroot?”
BOB was about to speak, but was stopped by Ægidius whose indignation had grown:
“Ye dash down to me farm, be a-glowin' brighter than New Year's Eve, ruin me bleedin' fields and have the soddin' cheek to think that us be chums? Damnation-and-blazes to it all! What be ye a-wantin' of me?”
BOB stood a while. Then a mysterious buzzing was heard from his head. Eyes lit.
“A PERTINENT SCISCITATION, ÆGIDIUS JULES HILDEPHONSE APPLEBY!”
Ægidius had never had many visitors at his farm aside from O'Frederick from the city who habitually delivered horse fodder. This giant didn't look like any of O'Frederick's lads.
“Sciscitation? Question? Think ye be a-foolin' me with yourn mighty words, clever-sides?”
“MY MISSION IS PACIFIC, NOT ANTAGONISTIC, ÆGIDIUS JULES HILDEPHONSE APPLEBY. PLEASE WITH THY PERMISSION ALLOW ME TO BE MAXIMALLY PAUCILOQUENT AND MINIMALLY GRANDILOQUENT AS SUCH COMMUNICATION OBSTRUCTETH THE DIRECTIVE”
The giant stood still for a moment and then his eyes shone polychromatically.
“ÆGIDIUS JULES HILDEPHONSE APPLEBY, THY PLANET HATH BEEN ELECTED. IT IS THE INTERGALACTIC PLURALITY THAT HATH DESIGNATED ME AS REPRESENTATIVE”
It took Ægidius a brief time to understand the words. Sounded a wee bit clandestine. Intergalactic. Plurality. Sounded like something municipal. What did the municipality want with him? He had harvested fields the right way, hadn't he? He did mention planet though. The giant made no sense.
“Representative for what?”
“THE PROMOTION OF THE TECHNOLOGICAL EVOLUTION AND FURTHERANCE OF INFERIOR SAPIENT ORGANIC CONSTRUCTS' CIVILISATIONS”
“In English, Sir Gobsworth”
“MY MOST APPROPRIATE APOLOGIES! I MISANALYSED THY CEREBRAL VOCABULARY. WE ARE SEEKING SPECIFICALLY TERRA-01 TO ASSIST IN ITS TECHNOLOGICAL EVOLUTION”
“Where 'cham in this'n equation?” asked Ægidius”
“ELEMENTARY, THOU ART A SENEATOR FOR THY PLANET” said BOB.
“Senator? That be a-smellin' o' politics. Why it be me, hm? Why has the municipality send ye?” asked Ægidius.
“PSYCHOSOMATIC AS WELL AS PSYCHOSOCIAL ANALYSES AND CALCULATIONS OF THY CIVILISATION'S CEREBRAL AS WELL AS CULTURAL CAPACITIES THUS IT WAS CONCLUDED THAT VERILY THEE WERT THE OPTIMAL CANDIDATE” said BOB.
“Who did this? 'Tis a wee bit too technical for the municipality. Methinks it a mistake” said Ægidius and had in the most curious way found an interest in talking with the stranger.
“IT IS A RARITY FOR THE TRANSUNIVERSAL PROFUNDITY OF THE INTERGALACTIC PLURALITY TO MISCALCULATE. ONLY ONE OUT OF
540.305.304.405.505.505 CALCULATIONS HATH BEEN A MISCALCULATION.”
”I see, so..?”
”THE CALCULATION OF THE OMNIVERSAL VERACITY. BUT THIS IS IRRELEVANT. THOU SHALT EXPEDITIOUSLY BE TAKEN TO THE HEAD QUARTERS OF THE PLURALITY”
Now Ægidius was thinking that he was rarely on holiday. Last time it was the local beach. Plurality. He could need a break from his usual job.
”Tell me. What be a-happenin' with me fields?”
”THE MUNIFCATION OF THINE AGROCULTURAL RESOURCES SHALL NOT BE A SOURCE OF TROUBLANCE . THIS STELLAR REGION WILL BE TEMPORALLY STATIC WHILST WE ARE IN THE COURT OF THE PLURALITY” said BOB.
”EH… TIME STANDETH STILL”
”Why in the blazes, be ye not a-sayin' that afore then!?”
”THE COMMUNICATION DIRECTIVE STATETH THAT A REPRESENTATIVE OF THE PLURALITY MUST EXPRESS THEMSELVES WITH MAXIMAL PRECISION AND WITHOUT SEMANTIC AMBIGUITIES. I AM CURRENTLY COMMUNICATING WITH THEE ON PAUCILOQUENCE LEVEL 2”
”So what? Ye says I be dumb?”
”OBJECTIVELY I AM COGNITIVELY SUPERIOR, BUT HAVE NOT A COMPARABLE PHYSIOLOGICAL STRUCTURE”
“So that be a yes”
The conversation could have gone on for all eternity,but Ægidius was quite inquisitive, but he had to have his sleep.
“Tell me, how long be this trip a-takin', Ribena Bob? 'Cham needin' me dear sleep”
BOB stopped and his face changed itself with a great deal of contorting and stretching to an inexpressive one to one, that if you had a whole lot of fantasy, a smile. This could hint towards BOB being happy.
“FASCINATING. YE SAPIENT ORGANIC CONSTRUCT NEED OF COURSE NOCTURNAL PSYCHOSOMATIC REVIVIFICATION. FEAR NOT! OUR TRANS-DIMENSIONAL PASSANCE INFLUENCETH NOT THY PHYSIOGNOMY THUS NOCTURNAL REVIVIFICATION IS NOT ANATOMICALLY OBLIGATORY”
“To wind wi't. 'Cham ready. Ain't be happin' much out here. When be we a-goin'?” said Ægidius.
“HM. I MUST JUST PERFORM AN ATOMIC ANALYSIS OF THY COMPOSITION. PLEASE, WAIT A MOMENT” BOB once more shone violently. Ægidius was now not so amused that this entire lightshow was going to happen again and yet another portion of his fields was going to vanish. His worries were unfounded though. Bob's effulgence cast itself on Ægidius who now himself sparkled. It was unusually painless. Tickled a bit.
The effulgence vanished from Ægidius and returned to BOB. BOB's eyes went through several nuances where after an odd melody, “ze-ding-ding-brum-dang”. Quite like that of a modem of yore. BOB's mentality was quite obviously of the audible sort.
“MY MOST APPROPRIATE APOLOGIES FOR THE NOISE. WE, WOBBALONIANS FROM WOBBALON 7 POSSESS AN EXOCORPOREAL ANATOMY”
Again sounded the melody. Ægidius lit his pipe. It had to night even though morning could any moment break. The horse seemed to enjoy it. BOB noticed the horse.
“MY MOST APPROPRIATE APOLOGIES!”
Ægidius was puzzled for a moment over the sight of BOB silently walking almost floating towards the horse. Immediately BOB started small-talking with the horse. Strangely Ægidius could still understand BOB and now also the horse, whom apparently spoke very highly of Ægidius.
“I toil 'n' toil for 'im, but I'm not one to complain as long as I get my grass to chew'n day by day by day by day so I ain't one to complain, nope, I'm pretty satisfied with my lot in life. Yup, yeah. Just yesterday I was ploughing to and fro, to and fro, to and fro, to and fro..”
BOB seemed to find this unnaturally interesting, an insight into a terrestrial organism's life. Even the monotony was captivating. The patterns. Those he found captivating indeed.
“FASCINATING. QUITE SIMPLY FASCINATING! SUCH REDOUBTABLE MONOTONY. EVERYTHING IN THE OMNIVERSE IS IN RUDIMENTARY CHAOS. BUT HERE. LO, HERE IS MONOTONY. COSMIC ORDER. MONOTNY!”
“Cham'n't a-gettin' anythin' of ye just said. Can't we just be goin'” complained Ægidius impatiently.
“MOST CERTAINLY. PARDON ME. MY MOST APPROPRIATE APOLOGIES. POSTHASTE” said BOB and pulled a small silver orb from his rainbow-glowing tuxedo after which it started floating.
BOB let forth a eerie vibration from his interior and the ball vibrated accordingly. Now began both Ægidius and BOB shaking. The earth shook even though that was no earthquake. The skies were gleaming. Day and night occurred simultaneously.
“What in the blazin' bloody of hells be a-happenin'!?” shouted Ægidius.
“MOLECULAR TEMPORAL HARMONISATION. A TRANS-DIMENSIONAL SHORTCUT TO THE PLURALITY” said BOB.
“That sounds.. kinda nice.. methinks?” said Ægidius and lit his pipe, but the very moment his match struck fire the fire shone with a light of a multitude of colours almost like Christmas lights. And then it happened
Everything howled around their ears and the ball absorbed both of them. Both were stretched to unfathomable lengths across cosmic latitudes. Around him he could see phantasmagorical visions. Nebulae. Worlds orbiting impossible constellations. Myriads of eyes peering at him, beholding him from the forbidden beginning of times. His mind was almost torn asunder. But it did not. Suddenly he felt squashed. His entire being, body and essence compressed to an infinitesimally minute point. Less than a particle and then instantaneously they were there. The Plurality.