The proud human animal, as Titanic survivor Eva Hart described humanity, was responsible for such disasters as the loss of so many lives and the world's greatest ship, all because ice warnings were routinely ignored and optimum speed was maintained even when the ship was speeding into an ice field full of bergs. That was the case on Earth I, whereas on Earth II a red starlike entity, an alien from space, converged and intercepted the Titanic on its maiden voyage.

Pride and arrogance learned nothing from the Titanic's sinking on both Twin Worlds and led to the destruction of Chocolate City.

The captain of a doomed American ship of state, just before the fatal convergence with a neutron bomb popping off in the heart of the Capitol, a most charming knave of a president sends a text message to Ms. Albright his Secretary of State instructing her how to respond at the press conference: "If anybody asks, deny we know anything like a massacre of black Christians is going on in southern Sudan". With his mind and heart clear of executive duties, he steps out briskly into the corridor. he has reason to be pleased with life today. Things are going well soliciting funds from Chinese billionaires for both his legal defense war chest and also his re-election, so he deserves a bit of amusement, he decides. Renowned for his pathological philandering, not to mention his constant lying, he does not let that bother him in the least as he goes prowling for yet more pretty wenches to spirit back to the relative privacy of the Oval Office (now termed the "Ovary Office" by smirking Capitol wags). Cruising a White House student intern reception, he finds just the right one among several dozen ready and willing prospects and strikes up a little conversation with her for the sake of the appearances as his secret service dicks look on with glazed eyes--having seen the big boss operating like this so many times they could write a book on it if they dared.

He pulled a stick-on name tag from his pocket from a bunch he always carried. "Hi, just call me Bill," he smiled, turning on his high-powered charm. "May I do you the honors, Ms--?" he said, still smiling. Overwhelmed, the girl managed to gasp out her first name. Writing "Monica" with a black Magic Marker, he then applied it to her left mammary as she beamed, hyperventilated, and looked like she might pass out.

Just beyond them, a special aide d'camp disguised as a typical party cipher took notes, to send the Big Boss's latest trick a signed copy of Emily Bronte's classic, "Wuthering Heights" that she can display on her coffee table, unread of course.

The secret serviceman nearest the two had all he could do to keep his eyelids from closing.

By the time Bill and his wife were nearing the end of their scandal-rocked fourth term, with his wife playing musical chairs with him and serving as President, the whole nation was in a state of utter collapse in every critical category of a civilized society. The Supreme Court building was torched by some of their own people, as a protest against its cadre of diehard conservatives left over from a previous administration. Just as ancient Rome had witnessed dreadful omens in the sun and sky and in horrible births of mutated calves and human children, presaging doom to their generation just before the Ides of March, when Julius Caesar, the Master of Rome and the World, was cut down by assassins, so Chocolate City witnessed horrific signs of many kinds, virtually all ignored or explained away as natural phenomena or pranks of vandals and teen gangs. The Capitol's statues, for instance, wept tears on the Ides of March--which was not too alarming in itself even given the classic Roman allusion, but these tears were red, bloodlike--reminding the superstitious of the awesome stigmata of Christ that sometimes appeared on religious statuary and even living people who would later be acclaimed saints. What could the tears of blood mean? the incredulous Capitol press asked everyone, and they got a thousand different explanations, all worthless. No one dared to think, much less express the thought, that the Klintons and their self-serving demolition of a once great nation were responsible for the statues of the Capitol weeping real tears of blood.

Shortly after this, Chocolate City was neutron-bomed by unknown attackers. The President, Mrs. Klinton, and her First Man, Bill, were enjoying the Joy Luck Room in the White House, a gift of their Chinese friends, when the withering blast of rays entered the big windows and incinerated their flesh in a brief second.

At the games held in Trapesos, a particularly grueling race across country (which including some high mountains) circles around behind the city and port on high rocky mountain paths fit only for goat hooves, not human feet. Running the race on bloody feet without sandals, leaving a red-spattered track behind him all the way, an Argonaut, Kleon of Tiryns, wins, but he won't walk again without limping for several weeks after he wins the glorious laurel crown of the victor and is carried throught the crowded streets as the people shout praises to his name and throw flowers and gold pieces and jewelry upon him.

Now Kleon was not the most fleet of the forty or so runners who set out on the prearranged course. He himself could easily tell that he was not even fast. He was, in truth, the slowest of the slow--a veritable tortoise! Back in his home city of Argos, he had never won a race against other boys, who had jeered at his slow plodding along all the way to the end, regardless of the crowd jeering him in greeting at the finish line, so how could he win now? He knew he was the best on this grueling course, as speed would not decide it.

Jason, knowing this quality in Kleon, had wisely chosen him to represent the Argo. Instead of appointing his sprinting "hares," he had singled out Kleon, the most unlikely choice, seemingly.

Knowing this was a comfort to Kleon now as he painfully made his way slowly but steadily through the jagged peaks and along the punishing, rocky trail without sandals--a requirement of the race to make sure that the rich, who could afford the best shoes, would not eliminate the farmer's boys who could not buy such fine footwear.

FOR THE CHRONICLE OF THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE, PARTS I-VIII, AND CONCLUSION, GO TO VOLUME IV AND THE JASON AND THE GOLDEN FLEECE CHRONICLE, ANTE ANNO STELLAE 1230-1200.

Another end of the world occurred during the earlier time of Noah, who survived it with seven of his immediate family and lived to be over 900 years old (which was not a great deal, considering they had been designed to live forever). His means of survival during the world-wide flood, the Great Mubbul? A gigantic multitiered, wooden craft built like a chest to hold a bride's trousseau, that was impregnable to water and extremely bouyant and yet 100 foot waves could not capsize it, being designed for optimum stability. A floating genotype archive as big as the Great Eastern steamship of the late 19th century, not requiring any navigation, it served its purpose of keeping Noah and his family, and all the assembled representatives of earth's main animal species dry and well-fed until the flood waters receded and left them dry land to recolonize. Noah was a genius of the first magnitude, but he was only following the explicit instructions of Almighty God (later known as FC in the post-modern secularist world), who had built the ship of the earth without a drydock and then launched it to sail through empty space. As soon as Noah's Ark was launched by the rising waters, any manmade structures, such as the court astrologer's high tower and now his chief refuge in the flood, were going to suffer badly if the Ark converged with them.

CHRONICLE OF THE FURLED SAIL, THE UNQUEST OF LARRY PRUFROCKSKI, VOLUME IV, RETROSTAR

For a man who had never unfurled his sail and launched his boat of life, it had to come as a shock, even a first taste for him of sheer terror, to find himself suddenly being propelled into another dimension. Standing on the shore of an unknown, alien sea, Larry was struck speechless at the sight of his pathetic, prosthetic-like hands and limbs.

He was not there very long before a "deck" of card-men came shuffling up through the sand and flotsam of the beach, all showing the same card's thickness of his own body. They all gave out fiendish hoots at the sight of him, and rushed forward. Ganging up on him, he was immediately in their power and couldn't escape, for they had ropes and chains, and wouldn't hesitate to tie him up if he showed any resistance or tried to run. Taking him with them, they told him he was now part of their crew, commissioned a sailor, a mariner on what looked to the appalled Larry like an ugly black, 16th century-type slave ship.

Larry also didn't like any of this one bit! He was not about to be anyone's deck-swabbing drudge, either--but, in his present condition--somehow reduced to a wretched playing card, with no way off the slaver except by leaping into the water and drowning (for he didn't think he could swim without his former arms and legs)--he did not have any choice but to submit!

Being an intelligent man who could always spot his best interests in any given situation, Larry knew when to bide his time and keep his own counsel, while looking for a chance to jump ship. If only he could find a way home--but where was home? The ship was sailing around what seemed to be the Puget Sound--which relieved his mind somewhat, since it was his home area, but he had no desire to get off anywhere but his hometown--for then he knew he would make it, knowing the streets and layout better than any of his fellow mariners. As for the captain, Wolvewoeld by name, he looked like a Nazi SS officer and was a terrible slave driver! He was a killer, too--for one of the first things he saw the captain do was slice a man through with his machete-like sword when the wretch hesitated a moment whether to obey an order. The pieces of the card-man, cut right through his midriff, were flopping around, one part going one direction, the other part with the still screaming head going another--when the captain snorted and gave the pieces each a kick over the side.

As for the wretch's blood, the new man--Larry--was thrown a mop and bucket and commanded to clean up the mess.

Cursing under his breath, Larry lowered the bucket on a rope and drew up some water from the bay and did the nasty work, and when he was through cleaning the deck, he flung down the mop and bucket in disgust. The captain noticed this, and he went straight to Larry, raising his sword over Larry's horrified head, one swing of which would decapitate him for sure. Trying to shield himself, Larry could not think of one thing to do--but the captain laughed, a horrible and most unlikely sound coming from so hard and expressionless a face--and, lowering his sword, called for the men to stuff Larry into the cannon instead.

"For flagrant insubordination compounded by disrespect of the ship's mop, the new man is to be taught a lesson, which in his case is capital punishment. Men, feed Old Bertha!"

Struggling and protesting in vain, Larry was seized, dragged, and then stuffed, headfirst, into a big cannon set on the deck, ready for any enemy that might appear.

Gun powder was tamped in after Larry, and then the fuse was lit.

The rest was what you would expect from a powerful, working cannon--a tremendous blast, followed by the furious flight of the hapless ejecta.

FOR THE PRECEDING PORTION OF THIS CHRONICLE, FOUND IN VOL. IV, FOR THE YEAR 1983, OR USE THE CHRONICLE LINK FOR TEH FURLED SAIL JUST BELOW THE NEXT ENTRY:

The THE OPTIONAL TRIP TO TBILIS, GEORGIA, AND LARRY TOURING THE SITES OF JASON AND THE ARGONAUTS WILL FIRST APPEAR ON-LINE HERE ON THIS PAGE

CHRONICLE OF THE FURLED SAIL, THE UNQUEST OF LARRY PRUFROCKSKI, VOL. IV, RETROSTAR

CHRONICLE OF THE FURLED SAIL, OPTIONAL TRIP TO TIBILIS.

When the group got back to the hotel after seeing the Hermitage, our guide called a meeting, and he said there was an optional trip available, which would be on the way to Tashkent, the next city on our itinerary after Leningrad.

He was talking on and on about the sites, which he said had to do with somebody, an old Greek, I think, named Jason. Medea was his witch wife, and they killed her brother and father to get the throne--lots of gory stuff like that, which interested the women particularly. The big highlight was that a National Geographic-funded explorer had built a boat like Jason's and was taking a volunteer crew and they were repeating the entire quest of the Golden Fleece (which is some kind of throw rug made of wool and covered with gold), and he was going to be on the coast, in the river Jason first entered, with all sorts of celebrations and singing groups to meet him and his men. I could not believe what I was hearing--were they all crazy? I was about to leave when they took a vote. I voted against it, as I wasn't sure the food on the optional trip would be any better and didn't want to risk it. But I was overrulled, 13 to 1, with the guide abstaining.

We had to hurry and pack, as the flight left that evening. I wasn't going to go anyway, but how would I meet them in Tashkent if they were delayed, and I knew nobody in Tashkent, and so I decided to go along, rather than lose the group and the tour. After all, Russia is a pretty big place, and I don't speak the language, and these guides are all we've got to get us around.

We arrived in Tbilis 1:30 A.M., flying south/southwest. This put us in real tropics which I didn't know they have in Russian territory, as we felt the steamy warm air and saw some palm trees outside the plane windows as we taxied in to the terminal.

When we went through Customs, it was pretty hot, with no air conditioning there. I could see this was the beginning of a bad trip, but I was trapped, having gone along against my best judgment. The women, though, all seemed cool as cucumbers, while I was dripping when we finally cleared and got through the rest of the rigmarole and took the bus to our hotel. I guess being from cool Washington State, without any need of air conditioning, I am not acclimated to these foreign places. Maybe if I lived on the East Coast, or down south, I would be. At our hotel, called the Medea and Jason International Hotel, I got a room by myself, fortunately, and headed straight for the shower. I couldn't go to bed all sweaty like that, tired as I was by the late flight.

This "shower" was another stupid old tub affair, with the crazy hand-held sprayer, which put more water on the floor than on me.

But I kept at it for as long as the hot water (which was lukewarm at best) lasted--which was almost an hour. The next day people complained to the management, including our tour members, that there was no hot water when they tried to wash up. Not one drop! I didn't say anything, as how could I know I was taking it all? Besides most of it went on the floor, not me! If a hotel can't provide for all its guests, then it ought to get another couple water heaters or at least get the ones it has working better! But if there isn't enough hot water, that not the only thing--there are no toilets. I couldn't find the toilet in my suite, so I called the guide, and he came and showed me a hole in the floor in the bathroom, with two spots where you set your feet and are supposed to squat and answer mother nature's call. This was the utter end! I refused, and asked for a real toilet, keeping my voice down real well--but the guide said either I use this stupid contraption, which is so humiliating, or go find a place in the bushes in the park outside the hotel! And get arrested! Nothing doing! I wasn't going to use that hole in the floor, and no toilet paper either, just running water and your hand, so I went walking, found an outhouse behind some factory buildings and shanties, and got around the problem that way!

The next morning, the food was not much--rolls, and some local fruit--bananas, pineapples, citrus, as they can grow that all here in this climate. I was still hungry, so I went out early and found some street venders selling hot food. I bought something very spicy, but full of eggs, and it filled me up at least. Then I went back to the hotel and went with the group on the bus to the first sites of the day. We went to the Palace of Culture, they call it. Inside the big fancy marble building was a lot of stuff from the past country before the Soviet Russians took over. I took some pictures, of the Medea fresco. It was supposely intact before the communists took over, but got damaged in the war. This is the story they all tell about in this country, as if it happened yesterday--they think it is such a great thing and are so proud of it, though it is nothing more than a vulgar TV soap opera in my opinion.

The headless lady lying down was Princess Medea the Witch--and she lost her head, the guide said, when the bombs and explosions were going on. She is the beautiful king's only daughter who refused all her suitors wanting to marry her and then cast a spell on Jason the Argonaut, the hero who sailed the Argo, a famous old Greek exploring ship, all the way from Greece to this country, bringing with him fifty champions who were seeking fame and fortune. Soviet Georgia was called Colchis in the old days, and had alot of gold and treasure, all taken from the river which was rich in gold and carnelians and diamonds, but is now polluted by factories along the bank, and the country solidly in the Soviet Union to stay, with people looking for work and even begging in the streets, and with the Russian army stationed in the big army bases.

Medea got Jason under her thumb and magical wand too, and he helped her kill her brother and even her father the king so they could take the throne and rule the country. Of course, she planned on getting rid of Jason as soon as she was queen--but he didn't know that! There were a lot of real gory details, and the women were eating it all up.

Our guide told how Jason strangled Medea's brother, who was supposed to rule in the king's place when he died, with his bow string (taken from the famous bow of bronze only Jason was strong enough to bend), and then Medea served up her brother, boiled, to her father at a banquet, disguised as pork, and after he complimented her on the special dish, she told him what it really was. He grabbed his throat and belly, and fell dead at the terrible news--and she has him cast into the hearth fire, burnt, then the ashes scattered in the river. After that the Erinys, the Hounds of Hades, were out to get the both of them for killing a father by their boiling his son and making him eat him, and they were chased from the palace, and from cave to cave. She tried every spell she could think of to drive them off. Finally, she was desperate enough to try the thing she didn't want to do, as she wanted a child and crown prince off of Jason first, that she could use to keep the throne in her possession indefinitely (for she couldn't rule alone as queen at that time without neighborhing kings attacking her or trying to force her to marry them).

After she had made herself the most beautiful and alluring she could, she invited him in to her chamber, and Jason loved her deeply, enjoying all her charms, and when he was sleeping, with his head on her lap, she plunged her jeweled dagger into his neck to cut the life vein.

The blood gushed out all over her lap and fine gown, and Jason sprang up, realizing he had been slain by her hand most treacherously. He saw her now as a most vicious and cruel serpent that she was--a dragoness, not a woman at all. Being a mighty warrior, he still had the strength, even in his dying, to draw his sword and wound the witch mortally. She had conceived in the night, however, and did not die a mortal's death, being a witch with great powers of enchantment that wouldn't let her perish immediately from a wound that would normally kill. She lingered on a few days after Jason gave up his wailing spirit to the Underworld. Before she joined him, she birthed a monster, a miscarriage of untimely birth. This was the mighty bull of Hades that grew up in the place where he was born on Medea's deathbed and the same place where Jason had lain with Medea in loving embrace.

The bull-man is still supposed to haunt and guard the cave, and shakes the walls of the cave from time to time as he seeks his lost parents, and people even hear the heart-broken bellowing and roaring of the orphaned bull-man, or minotaur.

This was as much nonsense as I could take, which I think is nothing but "bull-loney," so I went looking around on my own. I went out and bought some ice cream cones at the little shops for tourists I found along the street, different flavors with long names like "King Aeetes's Delight" and "Aea the Paradise of Phasis" which are pretty good, despite their names. By the time I did this, the bus was about to take off without me, so I ran back and hopped aboard.

That was a big mistake. When we started out, it was sweltering hot, even in the morning, but we quickly climbed up from sea level on the single lane road into the mountains, and it got so cold on the bus we were shivering. There was snow all round on the ground by now. The heater didn't work! It was freezing then, and then we got stuck as we plowed through a drift of snow covering the road. We men had to get out, with the ladies watching, though one or two got out to help. We pushed and used the driver's one shovel, taking turns, and the guide put some rags under the wheels, and we got out somehow and continued. My feet were soaked, and even more cold. I tried everything, taking off my running shoes, massaging my feet, but nothing helped. I thought they were going to be frost bitten. There was solid ice under my feet, from the snow I tracked in, and it froze there, it was that cold on the bus! I have never been more cold. We drove on and got stuck again--and the process was repeated. Out go all the men, and we pushed, shoved, and heaved, and put more rags down, and got enough traction, and I could see why we were making such little headway--the tires were balled, and no snow chains! I tried to talk to the guide about chains, but he didn't know of any such thing in Georgia--what a country, it was like Switzerland, but as backward as you can find up north in the rest of Russia!

We got over the pass somehow, and it then was a lot easier--we could slide down the other side, but it was really dangerous then, as the roads don't have guardrails, and a number of times I thought we would go over the edge and fall thousands of feet. I never saw such ravines before--they were worse, far deeper, than anything in the Cascades at home. Why they took us up into these mountains like this, I have no idea. Couldn't we have taken a short local flight instead? Then we arrived at the first site on the other side of the pass--the cave where Jason was supposed to have fought a bull from hell. The bull guarded the entrance, and Jason was on some kind of adventure, trying to win Medea's hand in marriage, by this test of his strength and courage. So the old story goes, the guide told us as we started to look into the cave. My, what a talker--I never heard one so bad as this one, and his English was the worst on the whole trip. It thought he was going to spit on all of us, trying to get the words out, he pronounced them so bad.

Fortunately, the plum brandy hadn't worn off, I didn't feel any cold in my feet, and I had only my jacket, but that was enough, with no wind at all, or snow either, in the cave. It was actually warmer there, maybe headed by underground springs or vents from an old volcano.

You should get the impression by now, that the earth(s) has experienced global catastrophes on a number of occasions, for a variety of reasons. Yet another end of the world occurred in the 22nd century on Earth II, thanks to the power-hungry agenda of Marcus Chillingsworth, a military genius who devised the Ultimate Weapon that won him world peace and a world empire on his own terms. But years before this feat, he reached his majority as a young man of the English aristocracy and was given his first title, the Marquis of Kayne (also variously spelled, in earlier ages, "Kane," "Kaine," and "Cain"). Money went with the title too, which he immediately poured into his research project into military superweaponry based on deviant thought detection. The weapon X-rayed your thought patterns, and if identified as a deviant according to the programmed profile, you were then zapped, terminated, with a brain-cooking laser.

CHRONICLE OF THE QUEEN OF THE VAMPIRES

After Jason returned to rule over his city and kingdom of Iolkos, all was well in heaven and earth? Well, not quite yet. When Elektra heard what had happened in Colchis, that her amusing little pet dragon (which she had planned to use on hostages for entertaining her at royal functions) had been slain by none other than Jason, and the slayer gotten clean away too, she was determined that heads would roll. And heads did roll, literally, around her. Then she set out personally, in pursuit of Jason. He must be stopped, she thought, from spoiling all her plans for Ilios and its goddess-worship. Achaea, with the likes of Jason to make it succeed, was to be smashed, and Ilios was to rule supreme, under her scepter, of course!

Only then could she complete her plan, rebuilding the dynamos of Atlantis that powererd her airships--which had all been destroyed when the mother continent broke up, due to the exploding gas vents under the sea waters. Once again airships by the thousands would fill the air, as her great cities of the realm hummed with life and power supplied by the power crystals bequeathed to her by her forefathers and their great sages and sorcerers who had fashioned them.

Pulling in the enormous powers that energized the stars and the inner workings of the invisible entities that constituted every visible thing, the power crystals were indispensable to her whole civilization and her plan to restart the imperial throne, with her seated upon it, of course!

If only she had known that her plans would materialize, but not in any form she had wanted or imagined--and, moreover, in a far future time, creating a second Atlantis, but not by her power but by an alien entity that would have no regard for her and her ambitions to be the new empress of a restored Atlantis as magnificent as the one she and her people had lost in the long ago.

PLEASE RETURN FOR MORE OF THIS NEW CHRONICLE WHEN IT COMES ON-LINE ON THIS PAGE.

Ero, an initially reluctant Cyber-Argonaut electronically shanghaied for the crew of the White Ship's epic exploration of Kastorr, a Cyberworld gameboard concocted by Wally the Cyber-Butterfly for his long-awaited retirement, encountered a number of devilish and angelic anomalies, one of them popping up on his visit to the Union Train Depot, a turn of the 20th century landmark in the City of Destiny. Old Red Kelley on the sax despite his weak heart and his tough octogenarian mother-in-law, Fast Lucy at the mike, sailing through "Red Red Robin," the angels of Sailors Rest who flew away but left him a fully decorated, candlelit Christmas tree complete with presents for him, a Rabbit-man holed up in a sawmill's logpile...would the City of Destiny's wonders never cease? Small chance of that--since it contained "Never-Never Land"!

He had, in fact, toured Never- Never Land inhabited by the grandmotherly, kindly Mother Goose, only to encounter the most hideous vampires and attacking hordes of bats. A climb brings him to yet another unexpected experience. The magnificent dome of the train depot takes on a life of its own and affords him a second glimpse of something far worse than any vampire or bat.

Climbing to the top of the depot's all-copper dome, Ero saw an object lying by the base of the unused flag pole. After a moment's hesitation...he leaned over to pick it up.

A small, faded red morrocco leather case with what looked like bird peck marks on it revealed a 19th century naturalist's Kater's Compass, fully intact and still functional for surveying work. Inside the cover "Property of Usborne, Esq." was inscribed in flaking gilt the color of old-gold.

The oddest thing happened when he moved it enough to realign the needle--the whole landscape shifted wherever the needle pointed. And, with a 180 degree turn, the dome beneath his feet unscrewed like a lid from a jar and lifted off neatly from the main body of the structure, giving Crazy Dan while playing cards at his usual hang-out an unexpected open view of the cyber-sky that made his car saleman's mouth fall open ear to ear. He thought the roof had somehow blown off, and missed seeing Ero hanging to the flagpole as he soared up and away, northward, the antique surveyer's compass, thanks to Wally's tweaking it, acting like a gyroscope and automatic pilot in one.

Now Crazy Dan was expert at spotting green stuff and fleecing rafts of monied suckers from the Emerald City but was never known for his powers of aesthetic taste and observation (what use were such qualities in a car dealership?). If it had been green, he would have spotted it immediately! But this object was red, a faded red. Thus he did not see a compass, falling away from Ero and down over the walls and architectural decorations, bouncing off the sides of the building facing Schonfield's Furniture and Storage, until it almost reached street level, catching on one of the spear-like heads of an iron fence. But it didn't hang there long. The moment the dome's shadow crossed over the Schonfield building the compass, as if magnetized, sprang to life, fluttering up and away like a bird, following the flying dome.

But before the gyro and guidance system Wally thoughtfully provided the Union Station could reach the flying dome and Ero's control as Wally had intended, the cyberdome's unicorn-like mast struck the cyber-envelope of Kastorr a powerful, lance-like blow, and it exploded, sending sheets of sillicate like material cascading all round Ero and the dome.

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Soaring up and through into another world, much darker than Kastorr and smelling of dead and rotting fish that almost gagged him, Ero's eyes adjusted as he peered into the purplish gloom, and then he saw something large looming in the distance, which grew bigger with each passing second. What could it be? It looked like a sort of monolithic Egyptian temple complex like Luxor and Karnak, but this temple extended beyond his gaze into the mists and seem to have no end. Around it were set here and there glowing circular, pillared structures, which seemed to be radiating light and energy, and all this strange dark, stagnant and rotten-smelling world was covered with water, surrounding the main edifice and the much smaller substations like a single vast defensive moat.

The Kater's Compass had not yet caught up with the Flying Dome, as it was moving so quickly and erratically, misguided by its former haphazard movements. The palace was like a lodestone, however, attracting the Flying Dome. It was also the largest single object, and was so colossal it could hardly be avoided as the Flying Dome continued. Moving downwards again, the Flying Dome sped directly at the gigantic water palace--and Ero thought he would surely be smashed against it. But the walls divided into pillars, and the Flying Dome--a tiny thing compared to the immense walls--easily slipped between the pillars and headed into the interior, which was so vast there was no danger of hitting anything right away.

The runaway flying dome did not run any great danger of crashing into anything, not for a while anyway, as the palace stretched seemingly without end, beyond the limits of his vision. Behind Ero, the Kater's Compass, programed with Wally with the dome's navigation system, was gaining on him steadily, flying with unswerving accuracy to the dome as if it were magnetically attracted to the bluish-glowing, copper sheathing. But before they could reunite, Ero found the dome nearing a strange kind of fountain, which grew in size and became so vast he was afraid the dome might fly right into it and he would drown.

Gushing and overflowing with a red liquid, Ero had no idea what it was, except it reminded him of blood.

Fortunately for him, the flying dome lurched and flew past, and then the Kater's Compass guidance system swooped down toward Ero, who caught it on the wing.

A buzzing, red-glowing popup immediately appeared on the compass, flashing an urgent message.

"Questor, Central Programming advises you correct course at once by directing needle upwards by tilting Kater's Compass, or dome will remain in flight for no more than three seconds after this message."

Ero, of course, did not argue, and complied immediately as advised, and the popup, no longer useful, vanished. As the flying dome rose up under Ero's control, with the compass securely in Ero's hand and the needle pointing upwards as well, he saw there was another object hovering overhead--vast and batlike. It instantly flashed into his mind what it was there to do--it was coming for a drink at that massive fountain beneath him--and the liquid continually pouring out of it had to be blood! Blood! What else would a bat want? This vast, dank, malodorous, water-floored palace was the haunt of a monster vampire, and here it was! He had no sword in hand, no cannon, the monster was just too big to fight with any weapon he could think of--what was he going to do?

For "Yom Kippur," Book II of "Beyond the Rapture," Vol. V, go to the link provided for Horace Brave Scout's account of how the Turnbull family on Earth I met the challenges of the seven year reign of the Anti-Christ and his battles for supremacy over Earth I as he goes to war to smash the last rivals he has resisting his absolute power, followed by the Reign of Yeshua that would last 1,000 years (or one, Seventh Day, in the divine calendar).

Chapter 2, Book Two, Volume V, Beyond the Rapture

Book III, The Seventh Day, Chapter 2, Volume V, Beyond the Rapture is in progress on his page. Chapter 1 has a link in the master directory above in the section for Volume V, Beyond the Rapture, Chronicle of the Great Chief's Return.

Book III,

The Seventh Day,

Chapter 2

Yeshua had not forgotten his promise to the people of Russia, when he judged the nation as a goat nation, but told the Russians that he would remember them because of their great suffering under a host of cruel and unjust rulers in the past, and make them a new nation. He would also appoint them a new and noble king to rule over them, who would be a just and kind man, establishing a centuries-long era of great peace and plenty and happiness for them such as they had never known before.

Yeshua also said he would send his servant to choose a king out from their noble young men, one who would be most suited for such high responsiblity and would not become proud, luxurious in his tastes, oppressive in his laws and taxes, cruel, vengeful and immoral--which was what their former rulers were.

Harry Turnbull, appointed as Yeshua's envoy to go to Russia to help in the healing and restoration of that long-oppressed people and nation, arrived at the proper time for the choosing of a new king.

Actually, the young man he selected was Yeshua's prior choice--his name given him back in the conference he and Heloise had with the Lord in Jerusalem.

So it was not a difficult task. He merely had to find the man. Arriving in Russia, at a place where many people had gathered and re-established some thriving cities, towns, and villages, with many outlying farms, Harry found the people had already set up elders and were under a limited government of their own, so that lawlessness would not prevail while they waited for the particulars of Yeshua's government to be made known to them.

The elders had the civil power to try any breaker of the law, such as the Ten Commandments, which were now the law of the whole land, as well as the law of the world. The Ten Commandments, first given by God to man through Moses on Mount Horeb in Arabia, were the basis for all law on earth, so they were more than sufficient to start an equitable society, after being suspended by the World Union dictator and his anti-God laws. Thus there was peace and justice already established when Harry arrived to do his initial inspections of the various populated and repopulating Russian provinces .

His duties included the inspection as well as the choice and installation of a king.

He would remain as long as he thought it necessary, to see that the new king was functioning properly and whether the people had accepted him and his rule.

Since it would be a first time that a ruler chosen by God had ruled them, the Russian people would need some time to adjust, of course, but there was plenty of time, and no need to hurry the process, Harry thought.

He enjoyed the Russian people for their boundless hospitality, good humor, and unpretentious ways, and loved their lands' beauty and vastness, and now the climate was much improved as well. They could grow crops year round if they liked, the temperatures were so mild that winter was only a fading memory. Snow and ice were banished by the global change in weather, thanks to Yeshua, so they would never again suffer the starvation and rigors of the long Russian winter that had caused such hardship, suffering, and loss of life for uncountable Russians in the past.

The Russians were very good at cultivating the rich, black chernozen soil, and they grew abundant crops, and were soon quite well to do. Their surpluses they traded for things they wanted from neighboring countries. But they also developed their own crafts, and had little need of luxuries except to dispose of grain, hides, cattle, timber, and metal ore surpluses that might go to waste otherwise.

The arts of the Russians flourished again, and embroidery and weaving and making of beautiful clothes spread through Russia. They all had fine clothes to wear now, and they wore them even at work, as they did not need to dress poorly, as they had so many changes of clothes.

The immodest styles of the Great Tribulation were now universally abhorred. The people returned to long-lost clothing designs from previous ages, and these were much favored, as they were brightly colored, and the patterns were challenges to the tailors and weavers and women expert with the needle. They were also natural, and composed of local materials they could raise or create or make themselves, without requiring massive factories and enormous expenditures of electric power and polluting and disturbing the earth to dig out the raw materials that went through very complicated changes until they came out as finished products people could wear.

Synthetics were not needed. Sheep were raised for wool, and the wool went into clothing and tapestries and fine rugs. The homes were filled with beautiful woven things, and the people were soon well-dressed, even in the farmsteads!

Harry was amazed at the splendor of the Russians, who had an eye for beautiful things and the ability to create them.

He thought he looked quite shabby in their country, coming to them in a simple Middle Eastern or Arab-style robe. But the Russians were polite, and they gave not the slightest indication they thought he was not as well dressed as he might be for being Yeshua's royal envoy sent from Jerusalem to choose them a king.

The excitement of the people was evident to Harry as he travelled about the new cities, town, villages and farms. He was invited everywhere to stay, but he could not stay long at any one place, for he had much to do to inspect so great acountry in size. 70 million Russians were no small amount to deal with! He wanted to make sure that everyone was getting on as he or she ought, under Yeshua's rule, which demanded justice and peace and prosperity for everyone on earth.

Having seen the whole country after months of travel transported on several of Pamela's dragons, Harry then took residence in one of the largest cities, and waited. He was sure the man would find him first, as the word had gone out, that whoever had heard from Yeshua should come and present himself as a candidate.

Harry soon heard from several different young men, but Harry knew in an instant that they were not, each of them, chosen by Yeshua. Something was not quite right, even though they looked regal enough in looks and stature and bearing.

Yeshua was looking for a measure of humility, he sensed, as he sent the men away and continued waiting.

Finally, after turning away a dozen other wannabe kings, Harry was beginning to wonder if the man would ever show up. What was keeping him? he wondered? Was he too busy in his business or farm or family? Had he just married and could not bear to leave his bride alone? There was some good reason, no doubt, for few men would ignore the chance to become a king. Or was he thinking he was too unworthy for such an exalted position with such huge responsibilities?

Perhaps he saw himself as too small a man for so great a task? There was such a thing, Harry knew, as too much humility--for the question was not whether he were worthy (for no man was worthy!) but was he obedient? Was he going to obey the Lord's summons and appointment? That was the real question. In the Bible account Saul, before Samuel anointed him king over Israel, was overly humble and self-effacing, running away from the calling of king, but later as king he became overly proud and even arrogant and too full of himself--humility, for him, was not accompanied with any saving measure of obedience to God. Disbeying God's commands, he destroyed himself and also his sons and dynasty. Obedience, then, is fundamental to a good king, even before humility, as seen in Saul's tragic case.

Yet, for such a task, haste was not a wise thing in the candidate--and a man who knew the Lord's calling on his life was not obliged to rush to seize the mantle of kingship. He could think it over a while, and take the time to count the cost. He would surely need to reflect on the changes that kingship would necessarily bring, and come to some sort of peace with the changes, and also the demands and challenges that kingship and the throne would inevitably bring.

A wise man, then, would take a little time to think it over first before coming forward--but not too long a time! If he was a delayer, arrived tardily, that would be forgivable, but it was not a gracious first act of a king to keep the Lord's envoy waiting beyond an acceptable time.

A day dawned when Harry was wondering if the man would ever come. He was just about to be annoyed with whomever it was, when the people of the house where he was given rooms brought a visitor to him. He is the Lord's choise, they told him. And he has brought his pet bear with him! Harry smiled, and let them know that he wanted to be alone with the candidate, to see if he agreed!

The man came in to Harry's room, a she-bear trundling slowly in with him attached to a leash, and his two aides, both nephews of his, were with him too, standing like two squires with a knight as in the Middle Ages.

Their eyes met, and Harry nodded, indicating that he wished for the gentleman to proceed. The moment the young nobleman came and bent his knee, extending his hand to the older man in greeting, Harry knew--yes! This is the one, indeed!

Taking a flask of pure and fragrant anointing oil he carried with him from Jerusalem, he touched the king's forehead and hair, anointing and sealing the office of the king upon the young man's head and brow.

"What is your name?" Harry asked as he slipped the anointing oil back inside his robe. "No, don't tell me. It no longer is your name. The Lord said you are to be called Vladimir, to redeem that good name from the past--will you accept the name given you by the Lord?

The spanking new Vladimir the First of New Russia (though its name was to be given later) blinked with surprise, nodded slowly, and stared at Harry.

"Then you shall be crowned Vladimir, king of the Russians! Let your companions inform the others, and I shall remain here to see that you will do well by your people, Vladimir, ah, Your Majesty!"

Harry rose, then waved his hand for the new king to come and sit in his chair.

Vladimir momentarily looked as if he were embarrassed and might protest (for he was a truly humble young man who respected elders), but Harry's stern glance quickly checked that impulse, and he went and took the offered chair, sitting down and with his attendants stepping forward to stand at his side. As for the pet she-bear, Alexandra, the king let her curl up on a rug, where she settled down comfortably.

The whole household, which knew (as Russians do) all that was going on behind the closed door of the room, could not be held back a moment more, and they burst in. Harry smiled, and gestured, indicating the new king in his makeshift but sturdy throne fashioned from a single piece of golden oak.

The family was suddenly abashed, seeing a real king sitting on a chair in their own house! It left them breathless! With shock in their faces and bewilderment, they did not know what to do, but the youngest, a little girl of four, went forward first, without any fear, and put her hand in the king's.

He smiled at her, and she beamed, then hopped up to his lap. Of course, there was no further ice or formality after this--but that wasn't a problem, Harry felt. Their former kings had been autocrats, ruling far from any contact with the common people in the exalted splendor of their palaces while the Russian people subsisted like beasts in unheated, squalid huts--it was not to happen again! The new Russian king would be one to mingle with the people, as one of them, yet a ruler too, who would decide the most important matters of state in terms of truth, justice, and righteousness, and also lead a delegation from the Russian provinces of his kingdom each year up to Jerusalem at the Feast of Tabernacles.

It was a brand-new day, a time to celebrate with singing, dancing, banquets, and all sorts of games and merriment that the Russians, who invented the year-round festival, were adept at--the start of a glorious epoch of achievement and happiness for the Russians, and a new kind of king was now in their midst to guide them--one who rules to help them, not hurt and exploit them as their past czars and kings had done. There were also, to be sure, some tears, as the older ones recalled the bad times Russia had known under cruel leaders. Then the almost constant wars had taken so many, many lives--they were uncountable--which meant nothing to them in general numbers, as they could only recall lost love ones--sons, husbands, fathers-- swallowed up in the last catastrophic conflicts of the old world order.

But now they could rejoice in this: never again would there be an unjust ruler over them, an autocrat holding himself aloof from the people like a cruel and unreachable emperor (or Czar, as the former Russians had called their Caesars), touching their lives only to oppress them and tax them into povery or throw them into a prison or mine in Siberia the rest of their days for resisting his unrighteous and tyrannical rule, the new king would be approachable, intimate with the lot of the people he ruled, a genuine "first among equals." Harry would see to it that everything went well in the beginning stage, even if there were absolutely no precedent in Russia for what Yeshua had inaugurated.

On Harry's return to Jerusalem, Yeshua called him to his throne and instructed him on the new world order of righteousness that would completely replace the old order Satan had ruled. Many nations would no longer exist, as they had been Israel's worst enemies, and hurt her most--this could not be forgiven, and so they vanished as entities--and no one wept for them either.

The world, Harry learned, was first to be divided into nine zones. These zones, or kingdoms, were Love, Joy, Peace, Forebearance, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self-Control--named after the Fruits of the Spirit, in which each zone was centered. Geopolitics, that had raged out of control and produced discord, havoc, and war since the time of Adam, no longer applied to the nations. Peace treaties would no longer be signed and then broken by the signatories, who were all the time they were in conference and even when signing were nothing but treacherous cynics planning further aggressions. Pax Romana had been temporary, enforced by brute force of invincible Roman legions. Pax Christos, with Yeshua as Pantokrator, was permanent--all founded on Almighty God's omnipotence. And how much better too!

War (civil and between states or peoples) was abolished in all these spiritual zones among the nations, for they were no longer rivals or competitors. Despite the huge swaths of devastation and nuclear contamination and ruin of earthquakes--the people simply moved to the good areas that were left while the bad areas were recovering, and the climate was so much improved round the earth, north and south, they found no difficulty growing more food than they needed and restarting their societies. From Jerusalem there flowed troops of Yeshua's emissaries, who went out to the nations like the Turnbulls, to help, guide, and restore them. Healers too went about the worst areas too, dealing with those still suffering from nuclear blasts. These were given leaves from the Tree of Life in Jerusalem, which cured them instantly, just as it cured any disease instantly.

Despite Yeshua's ordering of the overall structures, there was a vast area of freedom to rebuild, organize, and beautify the world as the nations' peoples took advantage of the wonderful climate and the astounding growth of their crops and herds. People were so full of health and vitality, that few tasks were thought too difficult for them--as a young man could carry a whole tree, and a child could carry a big log. It was truly the rise of superhumans--only they were now back to the levels of intelligence and strength enjoyed by the pre-antediluvians, the long-lived race before Noah's time and the Worldwide Flood--except the difference was that they were living righteously, not abusing their wonderful bodies with immorality, violence, and fighting one another.

Gifts of cold desert air and sky,

stars, cliffs of bare rock-- and a chance to ask why.

Earth's hoop was broken in the long ago

(and men still try to mend it the best they can),

but yet it keeps breaking

like a cracked, worn-out bow...

like a cracked, worn-out bow.

Wise chiefs once found a star-crowned child,

who came to mend the hoop men broke and defiled.

Wise men still seek Him who hung on a Cross--

and now there are two hoops

with a bridge across...

with a bridge across.

This is the bridge I pray for you,

I pray you find it and cross it too... and cross it too.

Horace Brave Scout singing his Christmas prayer:

Retro Star and Twin Worlds Timelines

Brief Account of the Twin Earths

Bridges of Destiny

Star Map of the Re-Located Earth, Twin Earth Atlas, Stellar and Terrestrial

Argo, Ships of the Line

Volume IV, Appendix, Part I

Volume IV, Appendix, Part II

Map of Holland America

Extraterrestrials and Terrestrials

The Algol Invasion & Client Species

The Star-Stones, the Evil, Scheming, Destroying Jewels of Fire, & Other Fatal Jems:

Before the Lakota recorders, Jason the captain of the Argo, who led the expedition to regain the Golden Fleece, foresaw this apparition heading for Earth:

Universe Terminator: The Sardius, or Carnelian, Red Star, Stone of Fire, Fiery Stone, the First Alien Entity, Wormwood, Wormstar, Retrostar

The Topaz

The Black Crystal and the White Stone

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