Author: Elruade

Chapter 12



The Cool Hour has arrived. It is best for you to close the windows and not let any wind in. A certain tension has been reached that would be easily upset. Do not move about too much. Aren’t you reading this on a computer? Try not to move the computer. If you are holding a book, put it aside and look in this direction.

Question: How much does Bond know?

Answer: Uncertain. Currently he is driving the Aston Martin. The director told him to drive back and forth along this road. That is, until the perfect shot is caught. Not any earlier. Not any sooner. Bond keeps asking; is this right? Through the wireless headset comes the same reply over and over; again.

Bullshit he says to ‘imself. I can’t see the cameras! How am I supposed to know what I should do? I only, I only, I only get aural directions! What is this director planning?

The director is far away, in the distance. He told him, follow my directions, just as I say. Basreol complained and yelled at him. It was pointless; it was never made clear, and he never asked for it to be made clear to him. He couldn’t complain; he had signed up exactly for what he got.

Then, well, the sun is wet and spread out onto a rooftop. It is the time of day you take a walk in. It is the time when you tell yourself; I must go for a walk this instant. It cannot be any later. The sun will set and be gone. Till next day. That really is irrelevant. The reason why you have to walk this instant is because you have hit upon the realization of the ‘day nearly over’. The walk is the embodiment of the queer idea that it may be the last. You’ll see. Walk and don’t talk. They’ll see.

The shot was over. Basreol paddled and shift-geared. Acceleration and windows down; echoing revolutions and the barometer check; runs like sex. Now was the AnyTime. Somewhere on the wide world, a juice portrays a sandwich in its last moments. Shadows gather and person upon person require attention, and the same at that. Just line up. Pretty self-esteem. They’ll lock you up, so dress for it. Not in the case of Bond. A mute and silent City. An adrenaline spread throughout his plexus. More moisture; more sentences.

Director: Hit up the old line; then turn around, park your car, and walk toward Rue de St. Vincenze. That spotted voice. Some inklings. His reality is like a dog, yelping from down low. Then the Aston hit upon a hill. The last moments of the sun were terrifying. His heart pounded once, twice, and pushed up his throat. The echoes end. The Cool Hour arrived.

Basreol (check) parked the Aston and walked. The silence had picked up the car. Just the foot foot footsteps can be heard, now. Would you like to visualize it? This street resembles an old trapdoor. The air is tinted orange; flavor, I’d go as far to say, resembles roses, and ambergris. The signs that says ‘rue St. Vizenze’ shows up around the corner. It is up to a sidewalk.

The sidewalk is square in dimension, and slightly rotting. It resembles a banana peel, if you will. Basreol (check) treaded it and launched his feet and ticked ticked ticked along the windows, in which he checked his own image. It was still that of James. And his shoes were neatly polished. The blinds were pulled down. He felt an urge to step inside when he reached a blue door.

Director: to St. Vinceze! To St. Vinceze! This street had a slight incline and at the end, an old church. He stuck close to the side and stared at the church as he went forward. It’s not too late. Too late for what? It is not too late. Somethings bear repeating; this is one of those! The illiterate are complaining. Come come, closer to me. Pick one of the noses and show it to her. Hya!

That is her; Barbera. Well, says the director, carry her in your arms toward the church. Basreol says, why, what for. Director: this is part of this famous scene. It will be famous because of its spontaneity. Grab her forcefully, grab her thighs! Basreol doubted the instant. The voice crackled and was gone. Barbera leaned against the wall. This scene; any old one will do. No. Light up, light up.

Basreol grabbed her and held her in his arms and carried her up the street. The image of God. Roughly carved, dated to the second BC. The woman smiled at him. Basreol jumped to a conclusion. Some rough conclusion. Exactly what my doctor ordered.

Basreol was diagnosed Triple-A Asthmatic with a broken lung.

-Can you be specific; what part?

-I have a photo of the scan.

-It’s obvious.

-Let me explain.

-Duh duh duh.

-This area here, and a balloon here.

-Ehuh. What should I do?

-I recommend a Tiara.


-That’s what they call these things. It is a small artificial lung. Breathe with it when you can’t.

-That’s covered?

-It’s on the house, as they say. I’ll put it in this box. Be very careful with it; don’t drop it. And don’t show it to friends, either.

The doctor put it in an old, decorative box and handed it to him. He smiled bitterly. Pretty remedy; on the fly. It is so hard to breathe for him; maybe he understated the severity of it. Yet the box was nice.

When Basreol opened the door, the doctor called him back in.

-Have you ever been to Nanking?


-It is a Brand New Place, untouched by dirty hands.

-Do you recommend it?

-Doctor’s are challenging, right?

-They are forceful beyond words, and exact.

-Yes. Here, I saved a brochure for you.

-Nanking, at night.

-Cities are different at night; very different.

-Is it open yet?

-Almost. The ceremony is next Friday. I don’t know if you can get a flight; it may be too busy.

-Would you like to go?

-Hmm. It is an interesting question, and I doubt it. This is my place. There are enough people here I can work on. And gladly they let me. Nanking would be too obtuse for me, too uncooperative.

-I will think about it.

-Do, and let me hear what you decide. It will work wonders for your lungs.

-What about open fields?

-It is just my recommendation. I may need to alter it later, should I hit upon something new. At the moment, it is my recommendation. But doctors are the least forceful of all, really. We can’t convince anyone of anything.

-We’ll see. This brochure seems interesting enough. I will see you later, or you will hear from me. Later.

This scene occurred in Retrospect Vision, and was shot using a 30 millimeter at 40 second-intervals, with a black-and-white tone. All signs point to it; it happened in the past. It is put on film, and goes down through time. The severity of such an instant will be based on the people’s opinions. Not by he himself. That’s quite odd, if you think about it. The film shifts back; to Paris. Or what you think is Paris. The film suggests, and isn’t forceful.

He reached the church doors. The director told him to put Barbera down. She started to lean against the church doors. A small camera was located in between the stones of the wall. It had a clear image of two people standing in a red light. They looked at each other and didn’t question it. A ladder was built that reached up to the clouds. Small chimpanzees danced on a rainbow, and they threw down eggshells with a conniving force. For some, this is bedtime.

The director sounded excited.

-Now, both of you, open the doors!

-What kind of shot is it?

-Ohoh, it will be pretty!

Basreol told her to push on the door to the left. Basreol shoved the door to the right open. Inside, it was very cool. Children ran out as soon as the doors opened. There were more people inside. They had erected a large tent in between the benches and had started a small fire. The fire turned to smoke as it rose. The smoke reached up to the church bells. The church bells were there. They couldn’t ring; and they didn’t want to, unless the people wanted it to.

-There are people here.

-Are there? Yes, they were meant to be there. First, I wanted a scene with you and the woman in front of the Holy Dish. Now, I want you to push your way through those people and stand before the Old Relic.

They did as they were told. The people were easily pushed aside; they were in heated conversation and in pleasant associations. They were enjoying a newfound peace and freedom in the city. Basreol and Barbera approached the Old Relic. It is a statue of His left foot. It is broken at the ankle. Some say the original carver wanted it this way. Others say, no he didn’t; it was broken.

-Do you see the camera in between the toes? That’s were you should be looking. Clasp your hands together; both of you.

The director’s voice came from far away. His voice crackled before it disappeared. They prayed silently because they were expected to. No paycheck could be on the other end of this, surely? And nothing happened. They walked out of the church and the sun was gone. A blue color fell out of the sky again; but it wasn’t morning. This was a deeper blue, like a lake-effect blue.

Basreol asked the director.

-Did you get the shot you wanted?

There was no reply. It was at this instant that the Cool Hour ended, and J.E.G appeared. You will live with the uncertainty of these terms. There may be more to come. The terms are representational. If it cannot be depicted accurately, it remains a representation. But of what; no-one can say.


















This brochure can only be read by those who:

-Yearn for freedom.

-Overstep boundaries.

-Consort to foul methods should they not get what they want.

-Approach any object with clear sight.

-Don’t doubt a thing.

If this describes you (If you answered yes to at least one of these), Nanking is perfect for you.

(There are photographs here of beautiful, strong buildings. They have not been entered yet, nor have they been seen by normal eyes. They stand there solidly and quietly. The earth roars.)

Nanking was designed by the World-Famous architect Sarkist, who also worked on the Empire State and Softmercy Stadium. It is his most ambitious project yet. He knew from the start what he wanted; a city built entirely on water.

(A photograph of the architect at his dinner table. In his left hand, a half-eaten sandwich. He is looking at a map of China. There are circles on it, done with a marker.)

The city is actually floating on three-thousand gigantic balloons. These balloons are floating on the water’s surface, and they can support the entire city. Sarkist says: This was the most challenging aspect of all. It is no more a question of whether we succeeded or not, and more a question of Human Limits of endurance, more like!

(Photographs and design sketches of the construction.)

Now is the time to pay a visit to this magnificent, brand new city. In size it is equal to Brooklyn and larger than Lyon. In scope it is more ambitious than Kyoto or Nepal. And its people? That is you! We are counting on you to fill up the city with presence. Invite everyone you know to come too!

(A photograph of a group of people cheering. The text goes on in a list of the important buildings and facilities. At the end of the brochure, on the back page, is a warning.)

Warning: We cannot allow anyone in during the daytime. We have set up a strict defense system for the purpose of keeping people out. Please arrive at night, after 12. We will welcome you with open arms and you will be given detailed information and a map of the city. But please remember; do not expect to be let in before 12 at night.


Nanking City Planning

(This is a first issue brochure.)



Don’t sound so (click) disappointed! Just (click) do it over again. From the main menu, click on (click) the icon of the hideous priest. Rest speaks for itself! You can call me directly, ASAP, if you have any further difficulties.

Difficulties? Why doesn’t he just stay on; I have asked for his help about twenty times in the last minute! I’d better start over, I suppose.

From the main menu, click on the icon of the hideous priest. Where is it? I do not see any hideous priest! What does that mean, ‘hideous priest’? Maybe he looks good to me, maybe he doesn’t to you. Who is to say? If it is so hideous, don’t you think I would recognize it?

Then again, this might be it. It is. It doesn’t resemble a priest at all. The program starts loading. I expect it to take a while; it’ll be very busy right now. I fill a glass with water and drink it. The blinds are pulled down. An orange light is glowing from behind. The room is in a sorry state; I will have to clean it sooner than later. Tomorrow will be fine.

I think this is the gadget he left behind; and the most important one at that. I’m not complaining! I can’t wait to see what he is up to. Inside it is warm, comforting. The noises outside have nothing to do with me. I am used to this arrangement so much that I can’t imagine it being any other way. If I run out of food, I can stop by the store tomorrow. That won’t be difficult. One simple meal in a day is enough.



Your wrist contains butterfly sugar!


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