Technocastle

Camp Nano 2013

So we’re in the universe at the moment. Stars and s**t. It is cold, and I don’t even know what I’m doing here, but being an omniscient narrator I guess I have to deal. Let’s zoom in a little onto a lovely little planet called Earth, and now a little further into a rather uninhabited nameless continent, surrounded by jungles and vines and anything that you can imagine would constrict you within seconds of touching their slimy surface. It’s quite constant here, but constant is only a word that describes the constant cycle of this place. There’s an aura that makes it certain it is alive. We shouldn’t be too literal by alive. It’s not as if this continent is just going to get up and leave whenever it wants to if it ever got too bored in one particular place �" although now that I think about it, I wouldn’t put it past it; its character does tend to shift drastically. But that could be left for another story. Anyway, I’m here, hovering up in writer land, trying to find something interesting to while away the infinite amount of time I’ve got to waste on my hands. Hands always remind me of that one soap episode about that guy who metaphorically washed his hands clean of the blood that lay on him due to all his power and authority; something about the populace being angry about one guy who apparently caused quite a revolution. The thing about soaps is that they say you can get into them no matter what episode you start at, but it’s not entirely true; in the long run, it might be factual, but in the end, it’s just the same as catching some random Spanish show and somehow being able to divulge what the hell’s going on. It happens so often, yet I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to do so �" not the most intelligent of people here. But yeah, it’s happened randomly like in that show of those two random black guy friends who had their own show, and once when that annoying grunge sister didn’t have satellite, you know, the one whose sister could speak to animals magically because she saved a warthog from a bear trap. But I digress, as always.

So here we are in this stuffy little yet not so little continent, composed of all sorts of goo and oozes and things that give off foul smells, and barely any semblance of civilized roads, although some of the locals, whom I haven’t seen yet and their mystery is starting to interest even myself, know of all the tips and tricks of getting around this tight place without losing a limb or getting eaten entirely �" which has something to do with priorities, as I’m to understand, as most people would rather die entirely than be inconvenienced by the pity and annoyance that follows losing a limb that not surprisingly you would normally use on a daily basis. I’ll give it to you no interruption. Sorry, I tend to do that, it’s the main problem of having a brain that’s essentially as large as the universe. Sometime come visit me in my little house in the clouds for some tea, I’m sure you’ve visited in another lifetime or document.

Vines forming curtains all around, so many different shades of green that makes it difficult to keep up with all the details that it’d be better to just go ahead and paint a picture because we all know they paint a thousand words. But some people aren’t that artistic, which sucks I guess. I only know what to write at the moment because I’ve fortunately already been through all of this, and I don’t meant that in the omniscient sense, I’ve literally written this before, literature-wise. So many systems growing in this one ecosystem. So many uncreatures still left to discuss. And yes, they’re called uncreatures. We’ll see soon enough. And what should come through all this deluge of muck and spa baths but a giant carriage, tattered and all kinds of ruin and reeking of disrepair. Rushing at full speed, picking up as much speed as possible without daring to stop at any of the corners. It keeps moving, the wheels threatening to break off and make for a fun ride. Rushing and running. If it could, it would levitate. And what’s this? It is levitating! It’s picked up so much speed that it’s not even touching the ground anymore, yet the heat from the tires that are still moving, probably as some form of propulsion, are leaving burned streaks in the ground where the wheels should go. But where is it heading to? This is where things get complicated. Well, not really, but somehow it’s always quite fitting to make it sound like it’s complicated, probably for readers to scoot on a little bit closer into the book, eyes wide open, careful not to skip a single detail. Turn after turn, hill after moldy upturned root, trees creaking and groaning and unhappy with the sudden whoosh of sound that’s disturbed its way through this jungle of death, this carriage, being drawn by absolutely nothing other than a motor that doesn’t exist, with no driver up ahead, is heading towards the Technocastle. Quite a fancy name, and quite a modern establishment to be found in such a weird and strange place.

You see, quite stereotypically, voodoo is practiced quite a lot around these parts, and is hence taken to be a very serious custom upheld by all the great philosophers and shamans and sorcerers who are either natives or have journeyed here in search of more knowledge, and some of which unfortunately happen upon the Technocastle, a very private establishment in the middle of the continent but not quite so, as it may not be found on any map, and neither can this continent to a certain extent. Every so often, you get a few prying eyes trying to peak their way into what this school actually holds. As a presence, or a ghost, or whatever I’m supposed to be, I can break any kinds of laws, even those that break those of physics themselves, and go ahead with my own stubbornness and do whatever I like. The funny thing about the Technocastle is that at whatever rare interval the sun decides to shine its rays through the gases that have formed their own personal greenhouse around this area, the castle shimmers and shows its true nature, which is that of a chrome structure, and is quite environmentally aware too, for this chrome element can absorb whatever random rays shoot in and uses it to power any necessary items around the building. I am to understand that this castle is a sort of school, though with the strangest syllabus, students, and system I’ve ever set ears upon. Whenever the rays of sunlight retreat back behind this domed world and back into the world that the majority know exists because they are actually living in it, the castle returns to the shabby old tumbling appearance it has always had. Some say that the chrome structure is a sign of what the school will look like at some time in the future, or else is to show its true nature, which would imply it has a mind of its own, much like this entire jungle, which isn’t that hard to believe therefore. Others say that the underneath of the castle’s layers of mold lies a sturdy extradimensional portal, where the chrome structure exists but entirely in a different plane, which raises all sorts of questions as to whether the school ever looked better than this, and whether it will ever collapse and possibly reveal its true nature like a phoenix rising from the ashes. Speaking of such a creature, I’m afraid to say that one’s being tested on as we speak, in the labs a few stories down underground or wherever.

So the carriage has just parked itself outside of the Technocastle, and the door has swung open with a great snap, and lo and behold, nothing actually comes out of it. Nothing descends the absence of little puny steps that carriages usually have the luxury of owning when not in such a condition. But things are made like this, and things are also made to be irksome. Were there ghosts inside which are invisible and hence impossible for us to believe? In which case I’m afraid to say it’ll be a rather annoying story, one where we won’t be able to see our main characters. But no, it’s not a ghost. It’s actually pure hatred. You know, like the sudden rush of emotion? I bet you didn’t know that at certain times of the year, all the emotion in the world would take on a single embodiment, called Hatred, and my does he look…thin. Kind of puny too. Not sure whether it’s a boy or girl, to be very honest with you readers. Its friends include a few other emotions, namely the seven deadly sins, which I’m sure you’ve all heard of, some of the wiser ones too, including the cardinal virtues, and some others that are more modern creations than anything, created by loving internet bloggers who are much too keen to waste their lives away typing out fictional relationships that dominate more than a fair few lives. So a bunch of these fluid emotions are making the way into the castle. They don’t even have to knock or be greeted by anyone; despite the amount of time they’ve last been at the castle (I’m to understand it’s been quite some time), they merely morph through the door and get back to work. It’s a fun little place, one that I genuinely wish I could participate in physically. And who’s to say I shouldn’t? I’ll be watching intently, mind you, over the next few days or decades, or however long whatever the point of this should take. Maybe I’ll transform myself into a physical chemical beaker or something of the sort, and be swished about just for fun, to see what it’s like. But I’ll be sure to let you know. And on we go!