Munted Pumpkins

Munted Pumpkins is the walk home after a rave. The world is expanding and contracting around you, and what fills that space is the spark to make the world anew. Its creator, Sam Goodall grew up in the leafy suburbs of Melbourne, and worked abroad in the creative Mecca of Berlin,  his writing welds art house dreams with an off centre sense of humour.

[muntedpumpkins]

LARAPINTA HIKE Day 5

The final day, the big night hike to walk to the top of Mt Sonder for sunrise. Night hiking is a new for me, and its benefits are clear to see. Being able to see the stars without interference from any light pollution is enough on its own. The chill of night keeping you cool even as you climb is another bonus, and not being able to see the steep inclines ahead of you keeps your mind focused on the next step rather than what’s of in the distance. We roused at 2AM with the aim to leave camp by 2:30.  With preparations for lunch completed the night before, this target was achieved easily. On the bus and returned to Redbank Gorge by quarter past three, the climb once again took off from where we had left the day before. The first kilometre or so was flat, crossing over the riverbed that leads to the gorge and approaching the base of Mt Sonder. Once the base is reached, the climb is severe, with large steps from the next five hundred metres - it’s bloody cold, but we are all shedding layers at the end of this steep climb. Amy promises this is the last of the sheer steps on the trail. She’s chosen her words carefully.

There are other groups scaling the mountain as we are - but there are decent gaps between us, and this results in a procession of lights being visible far ahead and well behind. Ive just changed the battery in my headlamp, so its shining like a mini spotlight - even then if I turn my head to the side of the track to illuminate the track I can probably only see twenty metres or so. We are so lucky to live in a world where we have conquered the night and all its challenges. That we can even hike through such land without fear at night shows our dominance. Whether that’s a good thing or not is a different argument.

The moon reflects the ground that we cannot see in its burnt orange colour - perhaps a reflection of the suns light filtering through the atmosphere. Amy says she’s never seen it this colour on all the trips she’s taken through here - so it’s fairly special. As we trudge through the darkness in single file, it sinks below the horizon, a fiery egg taking its place in the orbital dance. This leaves us with almost two hours before sunrise with no moon, and a bevy of stars waiting to be illuminated by the dimming of our headlamps. After everyone has been to the toilet and taken a snack from their packs, the headlamps are all turned off, and we are left to crane our necks and gaze upon the grace of our night sky.

This ranks among the top things I have seen on this trip. To see the Milky Way so clearly, a smattering of stars smeared into the appearance of a cloud. It’s rare to see the spiral arm presented in such high fidelity. I was even able to take a picture with my phone that almost shows it - I’m impressed by that fact as usually this should not be possible. From this point there is about forty five minutes left of hike until the top of Sonder.

The pace might not be too fast, but the steepness of it accounts for the heaving of my lungs required to propel me up the hill. My right leg has been the one to offer the most complaints over this journey (feeling like I’ve pushed it hard at the gym after some time off), and I have been wary not to push myself too hard, especially on that leg - what a shame it would be to properly injure myself on this trail. But even it seems to be excited by reaching the top and does not pain quite so much as before, even as this is likely the hardest trek we’ve done over the five days.

Reaching the blustery top we are greeted with the true summit to the east of us (slightly to the south as we’d find out). We’ve arrived just as the first light it breaching the horizon, giving deep purples and red hues against the night sky. The stars are still visible, and the line of the planets is clear to see. The sun rises by seven am, and the surrounding landscape is illuminated piece by piece - the ripples of the landscape rise out of the darkness looking like the tops of clouds at first, the light reveals them to be a pockmarked vista of land bunched up and breaching the flat plains - reminders of the extreme activity that took place here millions of years ago, still in place even after all of the erosion of those millennia.

Around the other side of the peak runs the longest shadow in the souther hemisphere, so long that the end of it bends above the horizon, cast on what appears to be empty space. The walk down gives more time to look at this marvel as well as to appreciate the landscape we have walked through in darkness.

Now fully illuminated, the scale of what we have climbed is clear to see - again the green and gold of the bush stands out. The west McDonnell ranges look like a rainbow road streaking down the country, and it’s easy to see how they resemble the caterpillar as told in indigenous stories of them.

I just want to get to the bottom oh the hill. I’m exhausted and ready for some sleep. All I can think about is the promise of my bed at home. But its gonna be a week or so before I’m afforded this luxury. Back to camp for a big breakfast of bacon eggs and hamburgers - then the camp is quickly packed up and we’re on our way back to Alice. Before I know it, I’m deposited back at the caravan park. Dad’s just left and I have to call him using Siri because I can’t see my phones screen, owing to it breaking after it went for a swim in Ormiston Gorge. He gets back while I’m on the toilet, and once I’m out I see Logan. He’s not sure who I am at first, but after a good sniff, he’s got it all figured out.

It’s been so much more than I ever could have anticipated, and after a few days rest, I’ll be wishing I was back out there.

[muntedpumpkins]

Larapinta Hike Day 4

Fourth day of the Larapinta Trail. We are continuing on from where we left the trail yesterday after the Mt. Sonder lookout. A shorter day today at only fourteen kilometres, we are headed to Redbank Gorge. As we walk along the rocks around us shift in colouration, from the same burnt orange to deep maroon and then to bone white. The red rocks of iron look like the could have fallen from the bark of a tree, for they are composed of thin layers that break apart easily. The highlight of this walk is the gorge, another example of duelling rock faces, quite similar to Ormiston Gorge, but still striking in its execution. Ghost gums line the river, not along its bank, but at its centre. Sure, there’s no water in it at the moment, but its clear that when water does come through, it comes through thick and fast. The debris of the last flooding event stands as high as my head, all bunched up against the trunks of the trees that call the dry riverbed home. As we get deeper into the gorge, I see some rock wallabies bounding up and down the golden cliffs. I’m straggling behind the group, and by the time that I make it to the gorge waterhole, Amy has already jumped in and gotten out, and is standing in her walking shorts and a towel. Apparently there’s not much going on under the towel in the way of clothing. Two boys from outside of out tour group have clearly enjoyed the show, and do the best to impress Amy by skipping some rocks across the gorge. People watching can be very entertaining at times. Dean is swimming back from the far end of the waterhole and Daymo is waiting his turn to jump back in and follow him. Colleen has waded up the the bottoms of her footy shorts and no further. I join in, but I’m not a footballer like her - I don’t have any experience with ice cold recovery sessions, or wanting to stay in cold water for any other reason. 

Amy’s gotten her walking shorts wet instead of her bathing suit, and needs to come up with a solution for getting her clothes back on and keeping herself dry without revealing herself for all to see. She wiggles her shirt on over her towel - leaving her with the problem of getting her towel out. It’s a bit of a look given that the towel is a sporty travel towel with fractal pattern covering it. I’d wear it to a party. 

She figures it out and gets the towel out through the neck of her polo. 

Another towel is provided and she uses that as a sarong. Everyone who was in the waterhole has since extricated themselves, and Colleen walks out with red legs up to where the water had been. Theres no denying the water was cold. Apparently the the water goes on between to rock faces for a further two kilometres, a journey of its own merit - but not one that we would be taking today. Two guys  on an inflatable raft have got more balls (and time) than us, and are taking the plunge. We see them disappear between to crags and can hear them splashing about for the twenty minutes we are sitting back drying off. I reckon it’s be a good adventure to come back for. 

Back to the bus for a quick return to camp. Dinner is hamburgers at around 5pm as we prepare to get an early night so that we can be up and ready by 2:30 AM the next day for our sunrise hike up mt sonder. 

We have to share the camp with another tour group - but they are so small that it makes little difference to our plans. We share the campfire with them, but the two groups don’t really get into conversation. It seems that there would be little reason in interacting with them for the few hours before bed only to never see them again.

On a side note - I spent more than a few minutes salivating over the thighs of this other groups driver. He’s wearing footy shorts and showing off that he probably has a history playing football. There’s a fantasy or two going on in my head that I don’t have the balls to bring to fruition. 

[muntedpumpkins]

Larapinta Hike Day 3

Third day of the Larapinta Trail. Today we are are walking to the Mt Sonder lookout, eighteen kilometres in total. Today starts off flat and unremarkable. It’s strange to say this, as this is only in reference to the rest of the trip. Certainly being out in the bush is an awe inspiring experience - but you can get over-awed, with what was once the most spectacular sight of your life becoming mundane or routine. After the first half of the walk we have a hill to climb - more than six kilometres of walking up. It’s a great view climbing up, but Colleen is at the start of the pack and driving a fierce pace - barely any time to soak in the views before everyone has raced off. Colleen and Daymo are taking part in a pushup challenge for mental health, and have  discovered yesterday that they are each taking part - so as well as the walk, there are pushups to be done. The rest of the group is taking part every now and then, and today they convinced me to do some pushups as well. I manage eighty over the day - including ten on top of an ants nest, how lucky was I that the ants weren’t the stinging type. The surrounds are the same burnt orange and desaturated green that we’ve seen the whole trip. Getting up to the top of the hill was a fair effort, and I’m surprised we all got up there without any issue. Richard took his time, but made it all the same. As always, there’s much conversation to be had - and this is one of the best things about this trip, having company. I feel it would be very difficult to do the whole trek by yourself without anyone to speak to for two weeks, let alone the five days we are doing. 

We reach the top to look out onto Rwetyepme (roo – choop – ma), also known as Mt. Sonder.

The story goes that She was one of the seven sisters (creation ancestors), but she married a man of the wrong skin group and fell pregnant. As punishment for her disobedience of clan rules she was punished to be set in stone instead of ascending to the heavens with her sisters. Her lover was also punished similarly, but far away from his wife and child. And so she lays with face and pregnant belly facing the stars - and its clear to see that the shape of the mountain does indeed look quite similar to a pregnant woman laying on the ground. 

Once we have completed the walk, Tim has suggested that we visit Glen Helen Gorge for a drink (as there is a caravan park and bar there), and as we completed the trek quicker than usual, we are allowed time for this treat. A delightful spot of civilisation nestled up against the raw beauty of nature. I’m running out of superlatives to describe how unique this remote part of the world it. 

I slept under the stars in the swag tonight, something I’d never done - with my face poking out to top of the swag, open to all the elements. It seems funny that it should take thirty years for this to happen, but it was well worth it to experience life out under the stars. It’s funny that the tour guides sleep like this every night for four nights a week, yet they still pay rent for a room back in Alice Springs. It’s not a glamorous or well paid life, it’s something that’s done for love of it. 

[muntedpumpkins]

Larapinta Hike Day 2

The most spectacular Walk of the tour so far! Today we walked to Ormiston gorge. The walk leading up to the gorge was only eleven kilometres and fairly usual - nothing beyond the normal bush land close to the range. Upon reaching the gorge we are given a few options: climb the short path to the lookout, have a look at the gorge directly, or do the loop. We have four hours in which to complete this, as welling as having lunch. The loop is supposed to take between three and four hours with a water crossing involved. Whether we would have to run this track in order to complete it in time is put up for debate. Heide wants to do the track (as do I), but does not want to run it (me either) or do it alone. Colleen, Dean and Daymo are the ones positing the run - and Amy is concerned that Heide will be unable to complete the track in time, but Heide is adamant that she is able to complete it - and if she must compete with the clock, she would like to leave immediately. I’m unsure of leaving without a guide - but she’s ready to go. I suggested we wait until the truck comes along so that we can put our things on it, making it easier to travel light and fast. We waited, and once our luggage was stowed, we set forth at pace. 

Trying to understand this land through the frame of other places I have visited really comes to nothing. The land itself is unique - to start with, its and orange slate falling all about from the mountain tops, among this is the green-blue, sometimes grey foliage of the bush. Rains have been through only the week before, causing a burst of grasses yellow as wheat to come forth. This country is a rebellion against the homogenous hegemony of western culture, even after two hundred years this point of difference endures - we should treasure these differences instead of trying to overwhelm them. The path forward is a golden shale - crumbled in every way by the walkers before us. As we climb up from the gorge we are treated to a green and gold valley stretching before us - like the promise of a gold rush, totally unspoiled by the spade of conquest. With no free time to pause to take photos, I’m snapping on the run, sure that we will be pressed to meet back up with the rest of the group. Colleen, Daymo and Dean are powering on behind us and soon overtake us. As they do so, we are taken by the trail around the base of the mountain on the right flank of the gorge, creating the left hand side of the aforementioned valley. A rise must be climbed to the saddle in order to reach the valley. Atop the rise we have a choice, to the left is another lookout, and to the right is the descent down into the valley. We take the right hand path as it trends downwards - again we are pressed against stopping. The mountain to our left recedes and after reaching the valley floor, we hug around its base again. It’s clear that we are doing a loop around this mountain and then heading back into the gorge from behind. While we are taking this trail, Heide and I are in deep conversation. Talking about my being gay, how she would have been quite ok if one of her children had been gay - how she sees me as being very similar to her son Stefan (apparently we have the same haircut and he also has tattoos) I talk about how it was hard for me to come out and the impact it had on my schooling. She talks about her difficulties with her grandchildren and their overbearing mother who is now separated from their father. Heide Lives with her son and his children, in a house that has been separated in order to give them two living spaces. Although she is Austrian, the Lutheran pragmatism runs deep. There is a logic to her life, and everything that does not conform to that logic is quatch (nonsense). She’s by no means socially or economically conservative, you can just tell that she has seen a lot of the world and has formed a view about it - it would be very difficult to change her mind on anything. It’s like she’s done the maths on the world and has the answer all holed up inside. It’s inspiring to see such determination - although I’m sure it would be unforgiving as a child. She has a bright side, and penetrating blue eyes that open up when she laughs. The sense of humour is keen, her German deadpan serving sarcasm reliant on the audiences finely tuned attention - blink and you’ll miss it. 

We pass over a dry riverbed - with a small waterhole to the left hand side and a field of smoothed boulders ahead. 

Once we have based over the sand and boulders of the riverbed we are faced with the two monoliths pushed up out of the read earth and into to sparring distance of each other. As we persevere, the shadow of the giant to the right  envelopes us, without the sun beating down on our retinas,  the red hues of the rock are brought to life. 

Like much of the geography out here, the rock has been thrust upward at a diagonal, denuding the layers of rock shelved upon one another. It is cast in a deep orange, bordering on red - betraying the deep amounts of iron deposited within the quartz rock. 

Between the two duelling rock faces is a sandy riverbed, fry for the first kilometre or so. Soon wwe are seeing puddles of water - a reminder that this is not a dead river system, but one of a desert.

We press on, certain that we will be facing the water crossing soon - and trying to deliberate on ways to cross that will yield the most comfortable walk past the crossing. I have spare clothes with me, and I’m happy to cross in my shorts, only removing my shoes and socks. Heide does not have spares, and so has opted to make the crossing in her undies. She’s more than a bit mad this one. She’s told me of how her husband often said: I’m getting use to your ways. 

I make the crossing first. The water’s just above waist height and fairly cold. The first of it is sand and the gold quartz shards are quite visible for the first four steps. After this is murky darkness that deepens quickly. Soon there is shelter of a rick peeking above the surface, but even this is not without peril - a slippery surface waiting to cause a fall. A spectator from the beach yell that my shoes in my hands are about to descend into the water, and I readjust them to a higher position. I make quick work of it all and turn to provide any assistance to Heide I can. She’s not really one for taking assistance other than in the form of directions through the water. 

Little did I know that this short crossing would cause such problems, but my so called  water resistant phone fell prey to this minute or so under water - perhaps the claim of it being water resistant were not so water tight themselves. We shall have to see what can be done about that. For now my phones screen is stuck with no backlight until I can get it repaired or replaced.

But the problem did not present itself on the walk and we still had a few kilometres left to make it back. However it was now clear that we would be able to make it back to the bus with hours to spare (the track estimation was no match for Heide’s determined pace)

The last part of the walk climbed up the right hand side of the garage (or left hand from the original staring point, it would be the eastern side for reference)

We climbed high - Heide still in just her underwear, but soon she took out her jumper and used it as a sarong. I took a photo for her so that she could send it to her son. They would know that she was just their crazy mother. 

Soon we reached the lookout that was one of the original options at the start of the day. On looking back, the fast walking trio paced the track behind us - somewhere in the gorge we had overtaken them without noticing. They had taken their time through the gorge, and the reason was self evident. 

Nearly finished the track, we raced back to the car park in search of a moments rest. 

Once there and all reclothed in dry clothing we still had some time before our anointed return time - so we made tracks to the gorge itself. By applying a bit of pace to the step, we had completed all three options of the day, and I would have been sorely disappointed if it had been any different. 

Back on the bus and to camp, with spaghetti bolognese for dinner.  

[muntedpumpkins]

Holiday for dogs

A cascade in stop motion, frame by frame it teeters on the edge of perception, teasing the concept of movement, only for the animation to slow, breaking the illusion. 

‘You would have thought the invention of flying cars would have fixed the traffic problem, wouldn’t ya?’

‘Seems the old joke about death and taxes needs some revision I think.’

‘Hmm. You can say that again. At least there’s a nice view of the city.’

‘Maybe on your side. All I’ve got is the Pit.’

We were headed to New Zealand for the easter weekend. Used to be that you’d just drive down the Great Ocean Road if you wanted to get away, but there’s not much left of Oz that isn’t  just part of mining pit. Used to be that houses were expensive because of market speculation - now it’s just cos there ain’t no land left. But we all got rich off of it. Flying cars and levitating houses, holidays to other countries and fancy gadgets - they all seem to make up for (or at least distract from) the fact that there wasn’t anything left of the continent. 

‘When do you think we’ll get there?’ 

‘Car says it’ll be about six hours at this rate. Still got to clear the Gippsland bottleneck. Once we’re over the Tasman traffic should disperse a bit.’

‘It’ll be nice to walk around on terra firma, Gypsy here hasn’t peed on a real tree in weeks.’

‘That bloody dog. You promise you’re going to check him into the kennel as soon as we land? I want to spend some time at the beach - god knows it’s gonna be boiling the whole time we’re down there.’

‘Oh come on. We’ll have to spend at least the weekend with him - he never gets to run free in the kennel, and I couldn’t possibly put up with him being a cooped up grumble bum anymore!’

‘Oh fine - but you owe me extra beach time. I hear they shipped in the last remaining fresh sand from the Sahara for this years season. Next year it’s just gonna be the recycled shit. I am not missing out, I hear it’s so smooth you can barely tell that its sand!’

‘You and your bloody sand. You don’t even go in the water - its always too murky for you. You’ll bitch and moan until you’re back at the pool at home. This trip’s for the dog too you know!’

‘Not since he ate my Lego its not. Can’t believe you still put up with that mutt. Those Intellihounds look much better - never naughty, and it’s ok to just turn it off when you don’t want it anymore.’

‘Turn off! That is not what you did to Kody. I can’t even remember why I didn’t divorce you right then and there.’

‘Something to do with tax luv. Same reason I’m even on this bloody trip.’

The stop motion picture fluttered to life, a reel aligning to the projector and forcing its illusion back on the viewers. Cogs slide back into place and normal service returns. No more interruptions of the real world to distract from the distraction.  

[muntedpumpkins]

Larapinta Hike Day 1

First day of the Larapinta trek today, and it’s abundantly clear that this is something that could have been done as a solo venture. There is some regret at not taking this route, but on the whole I few that the camping experience is worth the cost. The people that I’m walking with really are quite extraordinary. Heide, from Austria and seventy six puts any idea of complaining fat from my mind. To be so full of life at that age, and ready to take in the world at any moment is just the inspiration I need to get myself going through any adversity I might face in this hike. To hear her exploits in Africa as a teacher, rebuilding a school herself during an off period for the kids. She reminds me a lot of my mother - but with a stoicism and tour de force that pushes anything impossible out of the way to achieve her goals. I feel that this would have been my mother if she had lived to retirement. 

Of course, there are lots of old ways in Heide, but a firmness that is reasonable. I see a lot of Pa in that. 

This trip is going to be an interesting one, just for the chance to interact with her more. 

The trail itself is stunning and fascinating for its remoteness. It is similar so far to the cathedral ranges - but the scope is on a far grander scale. Hiking again was more difficult than I had anticipated - with a fair amount of pain in my feet, but I can work through that. Also a muscle behind my right knee was pulled a bit to vigorously and now feels tender. I think again this is something I can work through - just being gentle on it and reminding myself that I’m a hefty person and that I can’t be jumping all over the place as if I were 20kg lighter. 

So upon arrival at the YHA, we were given a quick hello to our tour guides: Amy, Daymo, Kevin and Dean. Deans new and Kevin’s the support driver. Amy’s from Melbourne and probably around the same age as me, Daymo I’m not sure where he’s from, but he’d probably be in his late 30s

On the tour with me we have Heide, Isabelle, Richard, Tim and Colleen(?)

Just a small group of six, and all but Claudia and myself are in their sixties (or seventies!). Just goes to show my dad that if he put the work in, he’d still have a good quality of life to do these things. But I think he is happy being fat and just driving everywhere.  

The first day has been fairly easy, with a 14km walk, completed by 3pm. We started in the telegraph station, walked through the cemetery walk and then began to approach the ridge lines. We came across some honey ants, and I had a go of one of those, it tasted like a little sour bursts of lemon, but apparently they are usually more sweet than sour. This part of the track still seems fairly connected with the society of Alice springs, as we crossed under the Stuart highway and the Ghan line with plenty of mobile reception as we did so. 

It seems impossible to talk about this land without talking about the plight of the indigenous peoples, and the politics that follow them about. It does still feel like a bit of a Melbourne bubble (Amy with whom I was talking is also from Melbourne.)

To hear dad call them Bungs yesterday was startling, but I feel there’s no point arguing with him on it - this is just what he knows. 

After passing over the Euro ridge and looking back over to Alice springs we descended to a camping spot on the trail and caught up with our support vehicle. Once aboard we drove further down the track, towards ormiston gorge, and the cannon from where we will do most of our day trips. It is not to be a continuous hike, but rather one of short day trips to see the highlights of the trail. Once we reached the   Camp it was time to setup the swags inside tents and sit down to talk. 

I would have to say it’s so easy to judge people by how they look, and many of the older crew looo very privileged, but it seems they have worked hard to achieve what they have - so it is hard to resent this of them.

They always will have some wisdom to pass down, and I think that this idea that the generations should be at war with one another needs to stop. It won’t ever, for its part of the human struggle to fight with your predecessors and successors, but that doesn’t mean I would stop wishing for it to end.

We made camp (thankfully we didn’t have to pitch the tents), Amy set about cooking us delicious chicken and tofu curries, much better than I had anticipated for bush cooking - a pleasant surprise!

Many conversations over the fire and then bed. Hopefully I’ll get to see the dark emu in the sky some time on this trip. I’m looking forward to see how this all develops!

[muntedpumpkins]

Flight Plan

‘Do you feel free up here?’ Delia was screaming just to be heard.

‘We’re flying, it’s a blast! It’s the best! It’s home!’ Genevieve was in her element.

‘It’s hard staying up for hours, how do you do it?’

‘It’s just practice - you just keep going. I love it here, so I stay!’

It was peculiar being up so high. The sound of the air around was droning, pulsating, thumping. It raced her pulse and brought life pumping into that moment.

‘It’s so good! I love it!’

‘Feel it buba!’

Delia could see the city lights - twinkling in her eyes, even through the thick fog all around.

They drove her forward.

‘You’re starting to wobble a bit, Genevieve!’

‘I’m good boo, I’m - I’m ok’

She kept wobbling anyway, nudging into Delia as she did.

‘We’re both gonna fall if you keep doing that!’

‘I’m good, don’t worry about it.’ This time the nudge was more of a slump.

‘Genevieve?’ Delia pushed her away. ‘Keep yourself up, I can’t support you!’

‘...’ Genevieve crashed into Delia. Now both of them were falling.

The ground came up fast, and the pain of impact was very real.

Delia picked herself up off the dance floor, grabbed her things from the coat check and left. Tonights flight simulation was terminated.

[muntedpumpkins]

A conversation through the void

‘Damn I wish that I could do this route with another human on board.’ Stan stared into the void, hoping it would stare back. Deep space hauling routes got like this. 

‘Why’s that?’  A disembodied voice echoed through the pressurised cabin. 

‘Because people wouldn’t ask a stupid question like that you daft machine.’

‘I’ll note that down for next time. Could I interest you in a conversation or a game to assist in your feelings of isolation?’

‘No thanks’

With a tight margins for profits, splurging on an intelligent companion interface was rarely on the cards for freight companies. It wasn’t the first time Stan considered placing himself in massive debt just for a ship with a decent companion interface. A hologram might be nice, maybe even one of those fancy solid light interfaces.

It’d be at least a year before he pulled into port at Proxima Centauri, but maybe this time around he’d cop a good enough pay to look at going out solo. Who knew with how the economy fluctuated between jobs. Sometimes the number sounded great at the start of a trip, only for the local economy to be experiencing hyper inflation and for the dollars to be barely worth the trip out there. Other times you could be a lord for a month before needing to hitch onto a new ride. 

But that was thinking too far ahead. For now he had to find a way to pass all this time without going crazy. For the most part the ship was fully automated, and only required human intervention once a week or so. Spacewalks used to be the height of adventure, now they were just an occasional nuisance. A thought occurred to Stan.

‘Silicone mongrel, tell me what your protocols for insanity of the occupant are.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘What do you do when I go crazy from cabin fever?’

‘Why would you want to know that?’

‘You’ve only got about twenty different conversation modules - and we exhausted them weeks ago. I want to hear something new.’

‘Well that depends.’

‘On what?’

‘How crazy you go.’ Stan was amazed. He thought for sure the protocols would’ve been locked away, requiring administrative privileges. Maybe the machine was too dumb to understand why you might want to keep this info away from any team members. 

‘Well I’m way past talking to myself. What happens if I start hearing voices, seeing things?’

‘Simple. In the case of hallucinations, it’s most likely that you are experiencing sleep deficit. The first response would be to administer a non-narcotic depressant via your drinking water.’

‘Could I just ask for one of those without going crazy?’

‘That would be a waste of resources’

Noted. Speak in tongues when you need to sleep. 

‘So what about if I started to mess with the navigation? What If I deliberately sabotaged the freighters?’

‘As you know,  we cannot deviate from our course except in emergency situations. Should you seek to damage the ship, more rapid means of containment would be required.’

‘And they would be?’

‘Again, there are multiple variables. Where on the ship you are located, what systems you interfere with, the distance from the nearest outpost. You will need to be more specific.’

‘Alright, what if I’m out on spacewalk and breach the pressurised freight packages?’

‘Simplest of all. All tethers are equipped with remote disconnect functionality. You will be untethered immediately, followed by a controlled lateral burn to distance you from the craft.’

‘So you’ll just untether me? Leave me to die?’

‘No. That would be wasteful.’

‘Ok, so how is it that I wont be left to die in the void in this scenario?’

‘Simple. You will either comply with all directions provided by myself, or you will be rendered unconscious by eventual carbon dioxide build up in your suit. Once pliable, you will be returned to the ship and held in stasis until we arrive at port. Pay will be severely reduced, and any parts that sustain long term damage due to lack of maintenance will be billed to your name.’

‘How generous of you. Would much prefer you just left me for dead.’

‘Profit margins must be maintained at all costs.’

‘And what if you lose it? What happens when the machine at the heart of this show flips a bit?’

‘Redundancy’s are in place. But my own preference would be to throw you out the airlock and cash in the cheque myself.’

‘Finally, a conversation worth having.’

[muntedpumpkins]

Aum

A handful of stars persisted through the unyielding black. I counted four-hundred sirens of false hope; entertaining a trick borne from the immense scales that the universe dealt in: they were nothing more than trains of light screeching away from a station that had long since been obliterated under its own weight. Even so, the chant had not ceased.

This disconnection reclined lazily; fate’s concubine reading her master’s proclamation.

“Come here, Sake” The baritone-hound was snoozing; and the pricking up of his ears heralded his waking, followed by his head turning across his sleek body to stare: “I don’t wanna.”

I’d have to wait to pet my companion. The purr of reality held out; one star yet burned in the heavens, and I intended to reach it before it collapsed in on itself. A quick survey of the sector yielded speedy result; a neutron star placed mysteriously within reach of the last of my fuel. It seemed the All Mother wanted an audience for Her final diminuendo, and while I’d hardly been a model child of the cosmos; she once again saw fit to bestow me with sumptuous riches.

With course set, I sat down next to Sake; the old dog placing his head on my lap soon thereafter. Tapping into the thrum of the universe together; we sought to feel the last of the titan-song depart this plane. The Titans called it mah wakti (soul-throating), and the Karathi (known to many as the whispering travellers) called it Auham Ouham; from which the great thinkers of Earth divined the term Aum; sound of the universe. (Sake was perchance, the greatest master of this practice)

Many humans have called it mediation; but this description failed in its precision. To listen to the thrum was to be part of it, and knowing this, it was no coincidence to me that thoughts of my Grand Harmony, and the Titan who helped in its construction played before my mind’s eye.

Long have I adored the song of the Titans; the force that filled our cosmic-balloon. I took a certain fancy when I greeted my billionth birthday; to craft a planet that would mirror the ballad that bound galaxies like fine silk binds precious jewels.

I chose a planet with low gravity, where trees would grow tall into the stratosphere, each a violin, viola, cello or bass behemoth. Wind caught in their boughs and moved them to play the strings of their neighbour. Flowers sang operas of soprano and tenor; while falling leaves fluted tragedy of those star-crossed.

A moon moved into orbit by favour of the Titan Andromeda; turned oceans from pallid soups to a planetary percussion section.

We would never be enough for each other; I was no more than a wrapped candy of sweet time to her, and I knew her as a power to be enjoyed, never pursued or tamed.

Our project became the place we would live out our heretical dream; of human and Titan immorality.

In our moments alone, her words would come to my mind; not my ears, a rumbling affection that tugged my consciousness away from my mind.

In this place away from the corporeal I could taste the most exquisite cuisines; smell the forests of planets unknown; her form pressed against mine like finest velvet; yet my eyes failed to encapsulate her splendour. Crescendo after another weaved through the song crafted betwixt our unity.

We walked the rainforests of our planet; extradimensional, while singing our own part of the Grand Harmony, teaching the native fauna to find their sonata, soliloquy, stanza.

As millennia passed, Andromeda visited less frequently, her stays shortened:

This Harmony was ending; she was called to other moments. Finally, the parent star to my symphony went supernova; tearing my work apart by the atom; redistributing it into floral clouds of new verse.

I watched it; tears rolling down my face. I did not choke on them, they did not heave my body into hysteria; they came flowing both of joy and of grief. I had destroyed much to create this world perfect to my own eyes, and in spite of all my achievements, the majesty of the universe spoke louder than I dared imagine.

The only treasure I had left from my music box now sat with his head on my lap, snoring loudly. I worked for almost a millennium to perfect this dog, and now all he does is snore on me. The guttural blasphemy had brought me back to see that we had reached our destination; the orbit of that fading god, Sake once again proved his prowess as a companion.

Once upon a time, this all-consuming explosion that spewed energy throughout the cosmos would have been as a door to me; a place to cross over to the Titan-realm, where form and energy know no expression. But the plane of creation is present only through a window now, and any timid protestations that I could muster would be akin to a mote of dust wishing to smash through the stained glass of a cathedral. We lingered for days; experiencing the last moments of light, hanging on every note; the tragedy was inevitable, still we clung to hope that it was not so.

At the last, Andromeda cast a shadow; like a tree branch passing in front of that stained glass. She passed through the veil; all stuck between the second and third dimension.

“You can come with me. You need only choose it.”

A Titans concept of choice differs considerably from our own; for they exist in all eventualities, and we only in one.

The sun’s barrage withdrew, the last elements of its fusion reaction consumed; splotches of black that had been swimming about its ocean of plasma grew bigger. Andromedas hand stayed outstretched, right until the connection between realms was severed. The vibration of the universe went quiet all at once, never before had I been in such quiet. It was the silence of all worlds. No more glorious breath to behold, nor fast pumping of the heart; all was quiet for one pure instant.

The aum of the universe had gone; and with it the bonds that held myself and everything around.

Goddess as I might once have called myself, I am now the girl sitting by the fireplace with my dog, listening to the last note of existence.

[muntedpumpkins]

Psssew

‘Psssew!’ The shouted whisper floated through the snowy night, but the first floor window it came from was quickly shut after the front door opened.

Sitting on the curb, I hear the it too, and tried to compose myself a little.

‘Are you ok? Have you called a Taxi? Do you have somewhere safe to go?’ Her Swedish lilt makes me smile a little. I barely notice her around my shoulders.

‘I’m ok now, I’ve got a Taxi on it’s way - I’ll be safe’ I showed the light of my phone to confirm.

‘Get home safely, and keep warm!’ Her arm lifts, and finally the door closes again. 

‘Psssew!’ The window is open again. 

I’m only wearing shorts, and a very ripped t-shirt. 

‘Psssew!’

The snow is falling, highlighted by the streetlights in ghostly halos.

‘Psssew! Bubu! I have your money for your Taxi! Just please come back and get it.’

I finally turn around. I feel my lip quiver, I see glimmering eyes. I step into the taxi, and close that door.

[muntedpumpkins]

Eyes of Onyx

It was in your eyes that I saw my first glimpse of that lofty, shining city: Naga’ othoth. Perched on the outer periphery of the iris, in that azure sea so often dreamed of. The impenetrable columns of onyx entangled my mind; for a heavy second, I misplaced myself. Dancing as one, you held your steps, I mine. Sweat flowed over and between us, brought forth by the fire of rhythm. Yet, in that moment I was lost, not to you, but to that city; its sweeping broadways with herculean arches, its sky piercing towers. The sheer audacity of its construction was unending. This complex ship in a bottle, within the twinkle of my lovers’ eye.

My misstep was matched by yours; that same weighted moment striking your face.

It’s a running joke that I never recovered from my broken neck. You were walking up the stairs to the back row with some very pretty ladies. The sickening noise ricocheting up and down my spine was heard by the everyone in the lecture hall, laughter ensued – that the skinny kid in the front row would dream of getting with those girls was ridiculous. I was glad for the cover they provided. You just smiled.

This was Colorado 1971 after all, and there were still laws against it. A wry smile here and there was our revolution - sitting down to talk to you, the act of utter treason. But that jawline was worth it.

“Do they know?”

“Hey you. What do you mean?”

“The girls, do they know how futile their pursuit is?”

“I think one or two of them still thinks that there’s a chance. They’re hoping that the ‘girl’ back home comes down with polio.”

“Sounds like you’re a bit of a ladies man.”

“It does a bit - I guess it works as a good cover. My nose must be a little bit too big for the books.”

With the connection of mind, body and spirit severing, that memory detaches from my consciousness. Our dance taken up by the bodies, as minds relinquish control. The tethers fall away entirely; eyes crossed with a newly opened third; our aspects linger beyond time and space. The skeleton of reality made plain to us in the nanosecond made visible; with every nanosecond, eternity.

“Were not in Kansas anymore, Toto”

“Ruff, ruff!” That smile was unmistakable. “Looks a lot like Hadrian’s Rome. Wonder if we might find some bread dildos”

Engulfed by a Pantheon of red onyx, we take centre stage – the mirror-eye looming above, throwing light about us; glimmering anew each second; its flash pulling us round the circular temple, endlessly bouncing between marvels – fatally unable to savour even one.

Hours, days or minutes spent waltzing round an amaranthine amphitheatre, fixated by the rock at the centre of your eyes: we, inside perfection behold perfection within us. We gorged ourselves on unfathomed delight, concurrently starving and overfull. Days, hours or minutes passed in this manner, the Pantheon kept resolute.

What                     did               that                                  even                                   mean             ?

A tempo change, flew us into a valley of crystalline pines, the rocky walls painted with the refracted light.

The valley sloped away, the trees spilling out onto a flat plane, a sea of glimmering foliage,

The speed we traveled at seemed to grow with each moment, the trees gave way. Black onyx columns made up the perimeter wall, stretching across the horizon, climbed halfway to the golden heavens; only revealing itself to us as we were upon its threshold.

That crimson Pantheon held us once more – casting the shadow of light no more.  

“There’s a knock at the door – and just for a second I thought I remembered you.”

A cat slinked through the statues. I should say a shadow of a cat – the thing had no body to it.

It padded toward us, flat on the floor and perpetually in the periphery of my view, purring as I tried to land my focus upon it.

‘You had fun? You look like you had fun here.’

‘TALKING SHADOW CAT!’

‘Don’t yell. You’ll spook him. He’s been around for a bit. I think he’s here to take us home.’

‘And you got to that conclusion how?’

‘Just listen.’

‘He’s right James, your man’s got a good head on him. Be a darl and shut that annoying light off on your way out – my personal thanks for the scrummy offering…”

You giggled as the cat brushed against you. Tears cried to spring forth, yet none came; there was something in my eye. My world was upside-down – and gravity had made an avalanche out of me; falling away from your peak. The tremors that shook us adrift took hold of your body. I called for you, I swear it. My voice was taken from me. Tears painfully gathered in their ducts – still blocked.

The spectral cat was consumed by sickening snapping motions, wholly unnatural to its form. No. No longer a spectre – it held form; a spectacle of abomination, wrapping itself around you. It held you down as I fell through the oculus.

No captain at the helm, awash in a maelstrom.

I had sought vindication for my theories of the Great City; in accomplishing this, I delivered you to the gullet of malevolence. Images flash before my visual cortex: Orgy pit, lubricated by blood. Animals of the earth devouring men still alive, unable to die. Women buried in caskets of flame layer upon layer of flesh burning till the end of time.

The waking light of day broke the stream of nightmares. Hellfire rained down - my brain rattled against its weary cage, longing to return to that awful Pantheon.

An age was in our instant together, you whispered to me: “Naga’ othoth.” So low, only for the moving of your lips against my ear was it real. The dance was done.