It was just a typical day for third-year university student Edith Orozco as she boarded her train home, but her world is unexpectedly thrown into chaos as she finds herself thrust into a time traveling adventure to save humanity from a seemingly unstoppable evil.
With the help of her niece, Moli, and two strangers, James and Kiza, the group must travel through time to collect nine wonders from history in just nine days. Only then can they hope to save the world from Pandorai, a murderous AI bent on destruction, along with its two maniacal henchmen and the world's greatest foes.
Tasked with collecting their first wonder; The Book of the Living, the unlikely quartet of heroes are transported back in time to Ancient Egypt, where they must travel to the Tomb of King Unas. But the clock is ticking, with only 24 hours to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles to reach their destination.
Can Edith guide the group and encourage them to work together as they encounter treacherous slave merchants, frightening prehistoric dinosaurs, and mischievous ancient gods? Or will the evil Trio beat them to their prize and bring the world one step closer to mayhem and destruction?
It was just a typical day for third-year university student Edith Orozco as she boarded her train home, but her world is unexpectedly thrown into chaos as she finds herself thrust into a time traveling adventure to save humanity from a seemingly unstoppable evil.
With the help of her niece, Moli, and two strangers, James and Kiza, the group must travel through time to collect nine wonders from history in just nine days. Only then can they hope to save the world from Pandorai, a murderous AI bent on destruction, along with its two maniacal henchmen and the world's greatest foes.
Tasked with collecting their first wonder; The Book of the Living, the unlikely quartet of heroes are transported back in time to Ancient Egypt, where they must travel to the Tomb of King Unas. But the clock is ticking, with only 24 hours to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles to reach their destination.
Can Edith guide the group and encourage them to work together as they encounter treacherous slave merchants, frightening prehistoric dinosaurs, and mischievous ancient gods? Or will the evil Trio beat them to their prize and bring the world one step closer to mayhem and destruction?
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Operation Quash Day 1387
Event Log #21815321
Opening...
Transcribing...
Dear World,
Today's another day when I haven't slept well.
All your lupine howling and yipping have made me out of sorts.
To every single one of you who cried 'wolf', you have sold your very own wolf ticket.
Are savagery pimples on angels' arses or dimples on devils' faces?
Or, show me that shit is not a common heritage of humankind.
Happy crying.
Yours wickedly,
Pan-do-rai
***
Edith Orozco had a strange dream that night.
She dreamt that she was with her brother Morris, climbing the Nohoch Mul Pyramid in Coba, Mexico.
Morris was not her brother by blood but became family by connection when their parents remarried. He was a historian by training and often travelled around the world, curating exhibitions featuring ancient khanates.
It was a cloudless day with the fiery sun high above them and the aether sky clear as crystal.
"Come on, Edith!" her brother called out ahead of her. "Why are you dilly-dallying?"
Edith warmed up with a couple of ankle stretches and grabbed onto the guiding rope. "Huh! I'll catch you up in no time."
She climbed up the stone stairs and looked around. She had visited the site often as a child, but on that day, there was a certain disconcertment in the air that unsettled her.
"Come on! Race you to the top!" Morris stopped mid-way and called out again.
"Ahorita! Right away!" She jumared up the fixed rope, tensed her grip, and began to ascend. Some minutes passed, but she was never able to close the widening gap between them.
"Wait for me, hombre!" she called after him, but he never responded. "Wait for me! Caramba!" Edith urged again. She stepped up frantically, and soon her breathing was ragged.
Her brother seemed oblivious of her callings and was soon out of her sight.
"No! Don't go!"
Her yelling echoed in the vastness and eventually died down...
Then she woke with a startle.
It was an odd dream, she reflected, for she had never visited the Nohoch Mul with Morris.
Sometimes they made plans that were never actualised. Something always got in the way: studies, work, scheduling... And now, she would never be able to travel with her brother again, for Morris had passed away in the COVID-19 pandemic.
Edith collected herself and sat up. The digital clock on the hotel's bedside table read five-thirty a.m.
Her niece Moli, Morris' daughter, slept beside her.
Moli had travelled with her mother Maggie from China to the UK to attend her father's funeral. After that, she had asked Edith to accompany her to her father's last project, an exhibition on the lost dynasty of Rouran at the British Museum where they had witnessed an unpleasant encounter...
Some faint noises from the air conditioning pulled Edith out of her reverie. She turned to look at Moli's cherubic face. For some reason, her hair seemed much more unkempt and disarrayed than last night before they had gone to sleep.
Edith hauled the woollen blanket further up but found Moli blinking. "It's still early." She squeezed a tight smile and told the child, "You can sleep some more."
"Oh! Aunt Edith!" Moli sat up and gave her a bear hug so strong that she almost lost her balance. "Aunt Edith..."
"I'm here." She stroked her hair. "Bad dream, eh?"
"Hmm..." Moli hesitated and said with a hint of despair, "I...I don't know..."
"Don't worry. I'm here." She patted her back. "Now, do you want to sleep some more? Or...should I draw you a bath? Get you all brushed up before Maggie comes back?"
"Yes. A bath would be nice."
"Right." Edith was about to hop down off the bed but turned. "And Moli, what does 'mao zhang feng' mean? You promised to tell me in the morning."
Moli nodded and looked at her with a lingering thankfulness. "It means a wind soft and...light like a cat's paw."
"Hmm. I like it." Edith found her slippers. "Come on, and you can teach me the pinyin of each character after you brush your teeth."
After the bath, they had a light breakfast and sorted out their luggage. Soon Moli's mother Maggie knocked on the door. She had stayed in a separate room last night because of work.
Edith bade goodbye to them and hurried to catch her train.
It was still a typical day in COVID when she arrived at her platform. She overheard a blasted bloke harassing an Asian lady when she stepped onto her train. She found her seat and thought long about her dream.
It was still a typical day in pandemic mode when her train departed; there were few passengers. Come to think of it, she was the only passenger in the carriage.
It was still a fairly typical journey on an English train with the somewhat crappy signal reception that had interrupted her music streaming app. Shortly after passing a tunnel, her train halted unexpectedly, and she got off to inspect why.
It was still a typical day in her life when she woke up that morning.
Well, that was before she had met a well-built man who invited her to a colossal airborne object near the Shard on Leonardo da Vinci's helicopter; before she met a cat who had a tail like a boa; before someone scolded her for believing in magic; before she and three other earthlings, James, Kiza, and Moli, had to answer a question on alien penguins; before Moxie the Ninth, the cat snake, had asked them to touch the Rosetta Stone; before JDAM bombs attacked them; before they saw Adolf Hitler livestreaming a speech on the giant LED screens in Piccadilly Circus; before they encountered an evil AI, Pandorai, that wanted the universe under the sod; before they learnt that they needed to save their world by collecting nine wonders from human history in nine days; before Moxie entrusted her with Excalibur; before they saw Hitler hunting dinosaurs on the Sovereign's Throne with orange eagle drones; before they landed in front of the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge; and before a bird and an ox with a face like an alligator ushered them into a room.
And now, even with Moli by her side, and Moli's little hand inside her sweaty palm, Edith was as bewildered as she had been when she stepped out of her train that morning.
She observed her circumambient carefully again. They were in an anteroom with antique Chinese abacuses lining the four walls from floor to ceiling, spinning and calculating on their own, quietly yet smoothly.
"Welcome."
Edith looked ahead and met the unfazed gaze of a large cat, a tiger, but instead of stripes, it had foreign ideograms all over it.
"My name is Alan Turning, and I am the Director of Archives here," it said with a deep, canorous voice. "People also call me the 'Fen Tiger'." The big cat moved towards them and circled them slowly. Edith squeezed Moli's hand and saw that Kiza gripped his wheelchair's handle nervously while James swallowed once, twice.
The Fen Tiger was so close that she could hear its heart on the beat with the abacuses.
Finally, it settled in front of them again.
"You have reached the greatest discontinuity in history. Which way do you want to turn?" Alan flipped its chowrie-like tail. Swoosh, four doors appeared and opened in front of them.
"You cannot avoid the future," Alan continued evenly, "but you can invent it. Fledglings, it is time for you to become comfortable with the unfamiliar. Division disrupts meaning. But when you join hands, you will overcome all atrocities."
"But–" Kiza blurted out. "We are against Hitler! And...and that..."
"The challenge is not about the enemy but yourselves." The Fen Tiger moved closer again with stealth. "Together, you are a rare force; together, you are a torque. Together, you are a flight of flamingos. You can, and you must, stop this bale–"
Suddenly, the abacuses in the room sped up with cracking noises.
"This world is overloading," Alan hastened its speech. "All instincts bring out the best and worst of people. Yet, there is only one race I know of, and that is the human race. This is no time to think and then act. Think and act. Act and reflect! Bad ideas beat no ideas, and slow actions transcend non-actions. All life is problem-solving. You have the power to decide your Wyrd and your world. I have faith in your tenacity that burns forth so brightly!" The Fen Tiger stepped forward and raised its front right paw. "Let us join our hands."
They reached out their hands somewhat unwillingly and fearfully. Edith found Alan's paw callused and rough to touch. The scene had reminded her of when she went to Morris' graduation ceremony in Cambridge, where the Praelector introduced graduands while holding their hands.
They stayed silent for a few seconds and then Alan stepped back and said solemnly, "You have it within your power to shape what happens next. Calculate your every move as whales think about their breaths, and remember, when Jupiter nears Saturn, light is music that sleeps."
They nodded, not fully aware what the Tiger meant.
"Each of you take a door and go and be pathfinders who confront profound uncertainty with perceptive questions. My colleagues will receive you at the other end. Go now! Go, and seek out the Book of the Living!"
Kiza took the initiative and moved his wheelchair forward. They each lined up in front of the four doors, entered together, and shut out the incessant overbearing noises behind them.
***
The door closed behind her.
Edith let out a raspy breath and leaned back.
Her backpack was as heavy as she had remembered that morning. Inside were a book, a few snacks, some pads and tampons, a can of pepper spray...
But nothing to fend off Hitler and his dogsbodies...
Edith pulled back her thoughts and found herself in a dark, poky corridor. Two rows of teal-coloured lights bordered the floor, flashing like cats' eyes on motorways.
"It's time for you to travel again." Moxie's words resonated in her head. "To the Tomb of King Unas. Keep safe your carcanets; they will protect you in times of exigency."
And what a place to travel to... she mused as she passed along the corridor, five steps, a right ninety-degree turn, some paces away, another turn...
A faint light shone on top of her denim jacket; Edith took off the necklace Moxie had given her. There was a red, silky Chinese knot, a small elongated wooden object she didn't recognise, and a miniature sword resembling a key charm.
She scrutinised the sword in her palm. She could still see the gold langets and the intaglio of gems that made up the face of a beast, Yazi, a son of a dragon, whose questions still confounded her.
"Edith Orozco, what makes you think that you are any less than a king or a queen? Why do you slight yourself so?"
She picked her way along the corridor, afraid a hole might open somewhere and swallow her whole. Another turn and she slowed down not long before remembering another voice: "Edith, why are you dilly-dallying?"
She took a deep breath and continued her path. Soon, she saw the door again.
Edith sensed that she was in a maze.
Come on, Edith...
Well, the truth was, she couldn't bear to think that she might never see them again. Maggie, her father, Hua, and her friends...
Come on, Edith.
Another turn.
Edith looked around as her pulse echoed in her ears. She couldn't see an exit anywhere. The never-ending corridor gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Without warning, the corridor lit up, and Edith found herself under a vaulted ceiling with vast expanses of murals. In the middle was a circular painted map, with the sun in the centre, its rays sundering the artwork, and an inscription for a map bearing at the bottom that said 'Here Be Dragons'.
"What is there that is not?" Alan's roaring voice reverberated. "Where are you, and where are you not?"
What is there that's not...
Edith observed the map. She could see a large island continent covered by snow and ice sheet. She could see plenty of ships and roaming waves. Out of the blue, she seemed to have found her answer.
***
Walking through the corridor, Moli couldn't help but think back to the Corridor of War. What a night it had been for her, escaping death from a Conqueror Worm who cited Edgar Allen Poe and ate horses like kippers.
What if...
What if she had never entered the Corridor of War? What if she had never gone back in history and landed in Rouran? What if she hadn't been so careless as to drop the thumb drive? Could it be possible that she was still with her mother, listening to her colleague sharing her stories from when she had last visited the Penglai Pavilion and showing them pictures of mirages?
'You cannot avoid the future,' she remembered the tiger saying. 'But you can invent it.'
Moli held her bibelot close to her heart. "Please, let everything be normal again." Her pentachromic pen swayed on the chain, emitting a faint light. She looked closer at the chain; there was a Chinese knot, the very same she had seen on the Dragon Chariot of Ten Thousand Sages, and a teensy bottle gourd.
She shook it slightly; no sound came.
Moli put back her necklace, followed the rows of catoptric lights, and hopped on the stone steps. She felt somewhat reassured. At least she wasn't alone on this journey.
She made a turn, then another, then another as she thought about Tiansu, the Khan, and Uncle Dazhe and soon found herself under the murals.
"What is there that is not? Where are you, and where are you not?"
More questions... She should have expected this.
"Where are you, and where are you not?" The Fen Tiger repeated its question.
She retraced her steps. There was something odd about the place. Moli felt as if she were climbing a never-ending slope, but...
A doubt flitted through her mind.
"Oi!" Moli shouted with her hands raised by her mouth and listened for the echoes.
Something is wrong, she thought as her echoes jangled her nerves.
***
Kiza looked at the dark corridor ahead and did not move an inch.
What a day!
He had been sitting in his living room waiting for his piano teacher to arrive only an hour ago. And so much had happened so fast.
First, he had rushed out of his room and tipped his wheelchair. Then he met a bird, but not a bird, a bird-like dinosaur that called itself 'Confucius'. Then Kiza was almost smashed by the Rosetta Stone and was told that if they didn't manage to collect nine wonders from human history in nine days, Hitler might conquer the world again or that everything would perish and humans would become tardigrades...
Whoever came up with this idea must have an awful sense of humour...
So many questions swirled in his mind. Why? Why him?
He collected himself and decided that whatever the reason, he'd do his best not to...disappoint...
Funny he should think that way.
No... Wait...
Kiza twigged something, as if information were being downloaded from the cloud into his head. Come to think of it, he couldn't recall what had transpired in the time between him falling down the stairs in his apartment building and ending up somewhere mid-air near the Shard...
I know what is happening now... What if this is only a hoax like Space Cadets?
Hitler could be some CGI replica like what Nvidia did... and what Channel 4 did with the Queen dancing on the desk...a Deepfake... The Caracol, as Moxie had called their transportation vehicle, could be a simulator... And Moxie itself could be some AR/VR unco stuff... The tiger was just a costume and special effects...or optical trapping...
Kiza moved his new wheelchair, a wooden Gendron equipped with rolls of shock absorbers and some gadgets that he could not name; it rolled slowly but steadily.
"My colleagues will receive you at the other end."
He half expected that there would be a large crowd at the end of the corridor, revealing that all this had been nothing but reality TV. His mothers would be among the audience, with smirks on their tired faces.
He moved forward again and was met with a few steps. The chair extended the wheels spontaneously and brought him higher and higher. He buckled up his seatbelt hurriedly.
Oh, boy, they must have quite a large budget for all this, he thought. ITV or Channel 4?
He decided to play along just in case any hidden cameras were observing him. His hands searched around. He frobbed with the dials on his right handle, but nothing happened. There was a small, five-stringed harp by his left. He plucked its strings once, and not a soul stirred. No genie was summoned up, and no light beams fired.
Yeah, definitely a joke...
Who would have pulled this prank on him? His first thoughts went to his friend who had 3D-printed a resin figure of a tardigrade for his birthday last year.
No wonder he called last night to check if everything was alright...This is one odd way of cheering up a friend... And James... it all seemed very real now...
Whatever the reason and whoever the producer, Kiza had his mind made up to file some serious complaints. He mused as he rolled his wheelchair slowly across the rectangular corridor and saw the same door again.
Hmm?
He passed the door and counted the numbers of risers and turns he had made each time. He felt a gradual ascent...another ascent...a perpetual ascent...and he saw the door again.
No way...
Kiza watched the ultramarine lights dancing intently. Shadows...more shadows...shadows were extending forever...
"Goodness me! You got to be joking, right?" Kiza asked out loud, tremulously. He was nearly frightened by his own shadow.
Then someone responded; it was the Fen Tiger. "Chitundu Mwikiza, where are you, and where are you not?"
***
James kicked the door hard as it closed.
"Ouch!"
His foot hurt terribly.
Not a dream...
He turned and watched the lights blinking like the bow lights he had seen on that cruise in the Thames and remembered his time under the water, crying and choking.
James reached into his trouser pocket. The sharp key edges there sent a shiver of pain down his spine. But there was something else...something small and round like an abacus bead. He stowed it away and took off the necklace that Moxie had given him in haste. He looked closely at the so-called 'Thunderclap', his supposed weapon, a silver dish-like object the size of a cookie. James bit it hard, and his teeth hurt. Really hurt.
Moxie's mellifluous voice appeared in his mind again. "My dear J, the principle of least effort no longer works. There will be confusion; there will be opposition; there will be noise. There is no coming to consciousness without trouble and pain and toil. Answers will not come to you; you need to seek them out. You need to decolonise your minds. You need to stop the separation."
Not a dream...
Just what on earth is going on? He cursed softly and asked himself for the umpteenth time.
And what might dad say if he ever sees Moxie...
James remembered his father, who had fallen for the conspiracy theories revolving around the virus and the New World Order.
Oh! What have I done...?
He felt trapped.
What he had done was... He shed his thoughts and ran through the corridor at speed, not paying attention to his surroundings. He kept running, but there was no end to his plight.
Unleash the beast...
"No!" James shouted back to the agitated air chasing him. He'd passed the same door once, twice...five times...
"This is no democracy! This is a true kleptocracy! Look what happened to your mother! They said they'd squash the sombrero! THEY DID EVERYTHING THEY COULD TO PEAK THE PIKE! Everything the Tory government says is lies! Whatever it stockpiles, it has stolen from us! Every time they forestall, they did it at our expense! The world today can't afford net zero. They want net negative! No one is left behind! They are just all buried under! Only idiots will think that the virus is idiopathic! First HIV, then Ebola, now COVID, and the next time it is smallpox or monkeypox or chickenpox or swine pox! Why else did Merck have it in their US labs? Look at what the New World Order did! They named the variants 'Delta' and 'Lamda'. Symbols of elitism. It's a hint that only the top ones will survive! James! If you just! MAN UP!"
He saw the same door but kept on hurtling, like a lab mouse in a running wheel. His breathing was fast like the hubbub of bubbles coming from that boat's engine.
No way out.
"James Walker, my son." He remembered what Hitler had told him a moment ago. "Join me, and you can have everything you want. Everything. Nothing shall happen without your wish!"
And he remembered that ox-beast. "Do not despair, my child. Please believe in that one per cent of hope."
Mother still in the ICU...and father...and father...
No more hope...
Was it too late to change his mind?
James laughed at his inchoate thought. He wouldn't stand a sand grain of a chance in Hitler's regime anyway.
By the time he had passed that door for the ninth time, he had heard the Fen Tiger. "James Walker, you may have had a wild night but here, this is a new road. Your world is epic, and you should walk further to see it for yourself."
The door scrooped open.
***
As soon as the door opened, Moli was down in the mouth.
She did not want to have anything to do with sand again.
She stepped out of the door and turned back only to find it gone. Then Moli found herself in a vast area where magnificent dunes wavered under the moonlit sky.
It was another cold, full-moon night.
"Blimey! Just what is happening?!"
Moli heard James shouting, kicking, and davering not far away. She looked around; Kiza was in his wheelchair, regarding the star-spangled sky with his head high, and Edith held her phone with the flashlight on, observing their surroundings.
"Aunt Edith!" Moli ran to her and hugged her. "Oh! Aunt Edith, what should we do!"
"Well... I...I don't know for sure...but... Let's get our bearings first." Edith checked her phone to open her compass app. She saw the date on the screen going backwards at an alarming speed, 2021... 1995... 705... 631... 182...and Blare! The phone vanished with a pop.
"Snap!" Kiza exclaimed. "That was very dangerous."
James Walker neared them. "Can anyone just tell me what on earth is going on?! I...I haven't been dreaming this all up, right?!" He dry-heaved as if there were a lump in his throat.
"Hmm..." Moli faltered. "No. I wish it was a dream. But...I think we are back in history."
"Where are you, and where are you not..." Edith murmured to herself.
"Aunt Edith," Moli asked, "you had the same questions as I did?"
"Questions?" James was confused. "What questions?"
Kiza supplied the answers. "One is where are you and where are you not? The other is what is there that is not?"
"The second was easy," Edith said. "I saw the map of Antarctica and then remembered the question on alien penguins. There were no penguins on the drawing. But the other was tough, though." She bent down to remove the sand that had gathered in her canvas shoes. "There's something odd about that place," she said, picking her words carefully. "You feel that you are always rising and rising when you turn the corners, but you end up at the same place."
Kiza let out a sigh. "I think people call it the 'Penrose Steps'. It's supposed to be an optical illusion," he explained as he waved his hand. He'd heard some mosquitoes whining.
"Let us sort out things first," Edith suggested. "Moxie said that to save our world, we need to secure nine wonders from human history in nine days. I also believe that at each 'critical juncture', as they call it, we'll have only one day."
James said dejectedly with his head held low, "It can't be true, right? That we have gone back in history and landed in Ancient Egypt?! This is insane!" He turned and turned back. "All this could be a...a film set! Or...or a LARP!"
Kiza waved his hand again. The mosquitoes were still whining. "And the thing that we're going to get, the Fen Tiger called it the 'Book of the Living'? Is it by any chance related to The Book of the Dead? We don't know what it looks like. Is it written on papyrus or–"
Suddenly, the mosquitoes' noises became louder and louder until they heard someone speaking.
"Uf. You humans, if you could spend all your time talking and arguing on folderols on advancing, the Earth would be so much more habitable!"
The children searched around, but they couldn't see anything.
"I'm here! On this laddie's shoulder!"
They followed the sound and saw an insect resting on Kiza's left shoulder. On closer inspection, James identified it as a large sacred scarab beetle, emitting sage-green light like fine aventurine.
"My name is Apogee."
"And my name is Perigee!" Another sound came from Kiza's right shoulder.
"Mortals," Apogee cut in and said, "now you know where you are and where you want to go. We will wait for you at the Tomb of King Unas in Saqqara tonight at six fifty-nine. Be there fair and square. You have twenty-three hours, forty-seven minutes and twelve seconds starting from now. If you don't make it on time, the safety vaults will close–"
Perigee completed the sentence. "And prezados, you won't find your way back to the Caracol! So long then!"
"Wait!" Kiza blurted out. "This is it? Aren't you supposed to give us some help?"
Apogee laughed. "Sure, and you'd expect us to get you a phoenix to ride or a dragon to train? Is that right?"
"But there ought to be some way..."
"Greenhorns. Just as the Monkey King has to endure eighty-one ordeals to reach his destination, you need to be as spunky and you have to overcome fourscore-plus-one ordeals to complete your journey and seek out the truth. So long then." Perigee finished, and its voice grew fainter and further away.
"But we don't even know which way we should go?!" Edith said.
"Travellers, there is no path. If it is invious, make a way," came the echoing response.
"Aunt Edith, look!" Moli had discovered something. They raised their heads and found a big scintillating pointer in the sky, indicating beyond a tree-shaped ventifact.
***
They remained silent for a minute, only to hear the baying wind.
"It's gone!" James cried out in exasperation. "That sodding Apple G!"
"Hmm," Kiza corrected him. "I think it should be 'Apogee'."
"Whatever G it is, I don't want to be stuck here!"
"I have an idea!" Edith clapped her hands. "Moli. Where's your pen? If you can summon up a car, I can drive us!"
"Good idea, Aunt Edith!" Moli took off her necklace and held up the pentachromic pen that could summon up things and even ink cats. "What type of car should I write?"
"A Land Rover!" James said, flustered. "A Pink Panther! With a full tank!"
"If you say so." Moli wrote in the air: 'Pink Panther Rover'.
Nothing happened.
She tried again, this time writing more carefully.
Nothing happened.
"Try SUV, then," Edith suggested.
Moli did as told, and nothing happened. "Could it be that I need to wait for it to reset? Moxie said it needs five minutes to reset."
"Do not attempt in vain, mortals." They heard Apogee's voice again. "You cannot summon up anything that has not yet been invented in this age! Nor anything that does not exist in this world now!"
Oh...
"Prezados, stop wasting time and get a shift on," Perigee instructed. "When you no longer know what to do, you have come to your real work, and when you no longer know which way to go, you have come to your real journey."
"Hmm..." Edith paused. "I guess...I guess we'll just have to..." She looked at Kiza and his wheelchair. "We'll have to move on then. Anyone got a better idea?"
"No," Moli reflected. "Bad ideas beat no ideas."
Kiza inspected his wheelchair and found a compartment that he clicked open. There was a remote-control-like device inside. He took it out, pressed once, and his wheelchair reversed. He stopped the motion and pressed again; the chair rolled slowly on the sand as if equipped with tank tracks.
They moved toward the ventifact together, not sparing a word. Shortly after, Moli asked, "What does 'quarter' mean other than one fourth? Hitler said, 'no quarter will be given'."
"Mercy. It means 'mercy'. No mercy will be given. And Ishii, his pets that he was talking about, those were names of bacteria," Kiza responded as he further examined the remote control. There were seventy-two functions available, including a multi-faith room, a baby care room, a function for burning a CD-ROM, another to launch a radiosonde, another for a laser altimeter and one for taking read-outs on a radiation dosimeter. He wondered briefly what type of propulsion his wheelchair used. Metallic hydrogen, probably.
"So many difficult words," Moli said. "And the Fen Tiger said that we have the power to decide our 'weird'."
"Not 'weird'. It may sound alike, but it should be 'W y r d'. Our destiny." James spelt the word out.
"And what does 'torque' mean?" Moli asked.
"Torc," James said, "it's the neck ornament that Moxie wears for its databases. I had seen one similar at the British Museum before." He then remembered how the Museum had keeled over and burnt before his very own eyes.
"Oh," Kiza expressed. "I thought the Fen Tiger meant 'torque' as in a force. He said that together we are a rare force. A 'torque' is a twisting force."
"Perhaps it's time to get to know each other better." Edith took the initiative. "I'm Edith, and I'm in my third year at uni. Moli here is my niece, she is in Grade Six. We are family by connection."
"James Walker," James spat out despondently and clamped his lips.
"And I'm Mwikiza; Kiza for short," Kiza said as he put back the remote control. He tried to scrutinise James' reaction when he asked, "Where were you all before...all this?"
"I was with my mother and her colleagues on a ship," Moli said. "Then I heard shouting that someone had fallen into the water. Then everyone disappeared."
"As for me, I was on my train, and it somehow halted. So, I got off to inspect why," Edith said as she rebalanced her backpack.
"And...James?" Kiza prompted.
" Ah... I...I was just out..."
And escaping. James shed that thought as his heart ached.
"How about you, Kiza?" Edith asked.
"I was at home, waiting for my piano teacher to arrive. I got out of the room, ventured to the staircase and tipped my wheelchair. That's when Confucius helped me." Kiza remembered something. "Moli, Qiuniu, the ox-beast said that you had had experiences in timeslips?"
Moli took a deep breath. "Yes?"
"What was it like?" Then he laughed a bit. "I suppose I should ask what is it like?"
"Well, you still have one life. You still need to excrete, and you still get hungry."
James' stomach growled loudly as if on cue.
"I have some flapjacks and Kendal mint cakes in my backpack," Edith offered. "Do you want some?"
"Hmm... Yeah, sure." James hesitated. "Haven't really had anything to eat since last...this morning."
"Can I have some choccies as well?" Kiza asked.
"Great. You'd be doing me a favour to reduce the weight of my bag." She took it off and raked through it, then handed them the snacks.
"And where did you timeslip to?" Kiza asked.
As they ate, Moli told them about the exhibition on Rouran that she and Edith had gone to; the chat they had had with Chance and Catherine; how she had woken up in the middle of the night only to find Qiuniu in the room; the never-ending doors in the Corridor of War and the digital cloud; whom she had met in the Hall of Ten Thousand Sages and why it was called that. She also talked about Xuanwu's questions and how she had timeslipped into Rouran.
"Oh, the Rourans! They were Mulan's enemies, right? I read it in a magazine. Did you meet their witches...no... not witches...their shamanesses?"
"No...and yes... I did see the Miragle; it's a bronze bird that lives on animal blood and can fly and record what people say." She continued to describe the Dragon Chariot and Tiansu and Feifei and Uncle Dazhe and the Shaman and the Tree of Life and the Conqueror Worm. And how Tiansu told her that the young calves with soft horns would lose their value if rats bit their horns... And why there might indeed be a silver lining in every cloud...
"And how did you come back to the original world?"
"Feifei defeated the Conqueror Worm, and Qiuniu brought me back. And I saw the Golden Dragon after everyone disappeared. It said, 'Those who wish to escape, you shall decide if this world of yours is to reshape'."
"Escape," James breathed while Kiza revelled. "I had always thought that the image of the Chinese dragon was derived from the trails of comets."
"Molly," James let out a thready whisper. It was his cousin's name. Maybe he would never see her again.
"No. Not Molly," Moli corrected, "It should be 'Mò Lì'."
Kiza acknowledged her. "Is it the same word as jasmine in Chinese?"
"Yes."
"I learn Mandarin at school. I'm doing the Mandarin Excellence Programme."
"You are Chinese then?" James questioned.
"Yes."
"No wonder," he rapped out.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Moli stomped on the sand.
Then James remembered Moxie's indelibly entreating eyes as if looking right through him. "You need to decolonise your minds. You need to stop the separation."
"No...nothing," he said contritely.
They carried on in sullen silence.
To be able to understand Princess Rouran and the Book of the Living Interior, one must have read the first book in the series, Princess Rouran and the Dragon. Otherwise, you're in for a confusing read. For that reason, I quickly found myself lost upon reading Book of the Living Interior, finding the fact that everything that seemed to happen to Edith was over within a few short lines. However, I acquainted myself with Dragon and everything began to make sense.
The Book of the Living Interior picks up a few hours before the end of Dragon, with Edith and Moli in the hotel following their trip to the Rouran exhibition at the British Museum, which Moli's late father curated. We follow Edith's perspective as she leads up to the strange turn of events, and we're deposited with her, Moli, Kiza and James as they meet a strange tiger-like creature named Alan Turing. All they know is that they have to make a series of quick decisions in order to stop Adolf Hitler from taking over the world and seek the truth - whatever that may be. As they try to figure things out, they embark on a journey through time and history.
What is so compelling about Ruckus' novels is that they're set against the backdrop of COVID-19 and discrimination against Chinese people living in Britain. They highlight the every-day casual racism that was abound, with people hurling irrational and unwarranted abuse at anyone of Chinese descent. Unfortunately, that was not pure invention and fiction - anti-Asian xenophobia and racist attacks were rife and at an increased level during the pandemic. If nothing else, Ruckus gives pause for thought. If everyday racism is allowed to continue, could it lead to another leader like Hitler to rise?
But it's not just that which made Princess Rouran and the Book of the Living Interior great. It's Ruckus' dry humour. In a way, it reminded me of Jasper Fforde's writing - irreverent and funny. Give it a go.
S. A