A satirical science fiction fantasy about time travel.
= satire science fiction fantasy humour time travel satirical fantasy satirical science fiction =
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Old Rang lives in a cave on the edge of a time warp. His visitors include the Nottle villagers who believe he makes the sun rise every morning and a time traveller called Vince Yaga who is the least superstitious man in the universe.
Vince Yaga discovers Ruce Lemming, a character from an unfinished epic fantasy novel by Seferin Fane. Ruce is being stalked by a mutant lawnmower named Victor. After a variety of erroneous misadventures which involve an array of characters including Buggeroni, an inventor from Florence; his wife Florrida; Belinda Nort, an out of work actress; an old Fakir and Rod Singlet, a Nostralian Itinerant, Seferin is helped to finish his novel so that Ruce and everyone in the immediate vicinity, including the lawnmower can fulfil their respective destinies.
A sequel titled TREUTH is in the first draft stage.
Rodney’s Galactic Dictionary 4th edition (the one with the blue cover)
time warp: a point in the universe where the pressure of the momentum of time, causes a buckling of the fabric allowing time to spin like a rotor blade and in effect to stand still.
time slip: the phenomena which causes things and people to find themselves translocated to a time warp, and from there to anywhere in the known universe – thought to be caused either by an undiscovered virus, or, proximity to subtle geological disturbances. Certain personality types are known to be sensitive to time slip. Geniuses, particularly inventors who use dangerous chemicals and explosives are prone. It can be exacerbated by lateral thinking, love-at-first-sight and some religions.
Old Rang was wise. You could tell that because he rarely spoke. Most people show their ignorance by speaking. Old Rang had discovered the time honoured principle that he who keeps mum gives nothing away. It also helps if you have a straggly beard and you can sit cross-legged for long periods.
People on all kinds of quests came to Old Rang for advice and guidance. He never told them anything they didn’t want to hear and they rarely went away disappointed. In fact he never told them anything at all.
Rang lived in a cave. It was a partially renovated train tunnel that had collapsed, leaving a stoutly trussed entrance to a small chamber with a feature wall of broken rock and shattered timber. It was illuminated at night by five rusty oil lamps housing low wattage globes connected to mains electricity.
Old Rang’s cave was situated on a fault line in a time warp where not only was time warped but reality was fractured as well. As a consequence Old Rang’s visitors came from every dimension of time and space. It was like living at a crossroads near a big film studio. An executive with a briefcase on his way to work was likely to be followed by a Martian in the company of a Cowboy with a six gun and pretty girl in a leopard skin bikini. And one of them might be carrying an ornate silver sword, which belonged to a cousin who was starring in a remake of Dungeons and Dragons.
Old Rang kept his mind sharp and his body thin on a diet of bran fibre and black carrot juice. His extreme flexibility came from the practice of Lastic Yoga taught to him by Swami Nutmeat from the Ashram of Togaboga. In one of his past lives, or possibly a future life, Old Rang had been a gigolo and as a form of karmic penance he had tied a knot in his singular appendage. This gave him the impressive ability to sit cross-legged and bolt upright for long periods of time thus enhancing his inscrutability. Not to mention being able to stay calm in the presence of attractive young women.
Sitting as he did at the crossroads of reality Old Rang became many things to many people. To the Nottle Tribe of East Nanglia who lived in the valley below his cave, Old Rang was the Grandfather of Time. Every morning the sun rose over his cave and the sound of his yodelling meditation carried across their village. They knew that if Old Rang slept in, so would the sun. Accordingly, for as long as anyone could recall they had practised the ritual of the dropped bucket every morning before sunrise. A member of the tribe reminded by a simple roster of notches on bamboo poles, was required to walk past Old Rang’s cave yawning nonchalantly and drop a bucket at which he or she would curse ‘Odarn!’ Old Rang thus awoken the rostered Nottle returned to the village and the tribe would be blessed with yet another sunrise.
“I read this MS with an initial sense of excitement at the obvious facility with which the author can write. The style is reminiscent of the racy paciness of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, and has just as much ability to carry a joke.”
Janet Blagg Fremantle Arts Centre Press