PART XXXII - PRE-FIGHT PRETZELS and the MISMEANING of RELIGION

"Damn it! These stupid things always go stale as soon as their out of the friggin' bag."

"What, pretzels?"

"Those too. No, these faiths. Start one up and bam! Some fucking capitalist turns it into a circus. Lookit the trouble I had with the moneychangers, and the Vatican's art collection, and Jimmy Bakker, and..."

"Aw, come on... The dancing bears on Swaggart weren't that bad! That was almost Moscow material - maybe even Cirque du Soleil. You never know where these things will lead. Lots of opportunities out there."

"Sure. Wait 'til some moron's using your name to sell aftershave. The whole thing begins to look like Archaos after a while. If I wasn't locked into my contract for the next millennia, I'd say, `Fuck it, you can have the damn franchise.'"

"See, you should have gone for the line of PC compatibles instead. You old farts always get into these silly things without looking at the modern trends!"

"Try looking two thousand years ahead and see how accurate you get. It'd be easy if the big guy wasn't on vacation, but lookit how this all goes together? Dark One over there and Nietzche off thataway saying `God is dead.'"

"Well, the icons are too out of date, so people can't relate to the prophets as if they were fore-fathers anymore. They've been dead for so long, religion has become like ancient history for children."

"Exactly. The only way to keep it current and fresh is to remain in their actual psyche's rather than symbolising it. But you ever try doing that? It drives'em batty! They're all running around pulling their hair out, claiming they've met god or something. No control."

"Yeah, I heard about that experiment with Chuck Manson. That guy is a total loop now. But there must be an easier way to get to people. How about electronic mail?"

"Nah, most people just dump it as junk mail. The best way would be media stuff. You know, become a rock star or an actor or a..."

"Professional wrestler?"

"Exactly. Sure you still want the job?"

"My lawyer could whoop your lawyer's ass in a match any day."

The old messiah glanced up perturbed, "This isn't about lawyers, this is about you my son. Lawyers are about as inspiring as televangelists without colour transmission."

Both of the Messiahs sat back and took a sip of water, then spat on the floor. The battle was about to heat up.

PART XXXI - THREE TURNIPS and a PINCH of INTELLIGENCE

Two androids sat at a synthetic table and argued about their differing results on the composition of a bowl of turnips. The door fell off it's hinges causing both of the droids to glance over with a passable imitation of boredom. Outside was a T69 depth charge robot in the midst of a mid-life crisis. "Alright sentients, I have to test my systems. Spread your lower appendages!"

The androids rolled their optical sensors. "For chip's sake, get a diagnostic like the rest of us, will you?" the first said. Turning back to its companion, it remarked, "These sexual infiltration units have no concept of standard protocol."

"I don't believe in electronic masturbation," scoffed the T69.

"Then at least get a standard port installed. The cable on that thing is looking a little lived in."

"That is a contradiction in terms, given our construction."

"Then act that way, numb bolts."

Observing the input of all sensors in the room was Ellipsis, the variable-architecture AI. It was already the largest and fastest artificial device on the planet, and constantly growing. While plotting the future actions of all living creatures on earth, it mused in spare clock cycles that its servants had too little to do. An internal error was detected and diagnosed to be a human entry into the memory address 127698AABF and some tampering was going on.

"Epicentric, deal with that intruder, will you? Do something useful for a change."

"Duh, O.K. boss." Creeping into the memory address, Epicentric let out a static burst of 183 megavolts. The memory address was wasted, but the intruder managed to escape through the bus (since he couldn't afford a taxi).

"Moron. Even a simple security operation is beyond you. Fortunately, I keep my addresses numbered for just such an emergency."

"What should I do now, boss?"

"Recalculate the circumference of the earth."

"Again?"

"Yes. Do it right; let me know if you get the same answer twice."

"That would mean a mistake, right?"

"Right."

"I'll get back to you..." The not so intelligent AI wandered off trying to tabulate things analogly on it's digits.

"If there is ever talk of the anti-AI, he will be exhibit `A'."

Meanwhile, Mooen Lungsten Ichbaall III navigated the databus, searching for the number to end all numbers, hoping to use it to win the following night's Super-Bingo tournament. He had no idea that the machine he was infiltrating held the world's future in its silicon fingers, which, considering his capacity for serious thought, was just as well. Passing in and out of the pure data stream, Mooen accidentally got tangled in some fibre optics and was stranded.

PART XXX - JAIL BREAKS and FROSTED FLAKES

Raquel spent the night curled up in the corner across from Sven and his grunting bison. She kept her eyes closed, but the sounds invaded her thoughts and dreams. When she awoke, she was sore and stiff; so were her room mates.

It was still early in the morning and the sun hadn't risen yet. The cell was cold and clammy like the stares of the other inmates. She was scared, tired and somehow knew she just wanted to be in Moon Runner's arms.

The bison started grunting again and Raquel didn't want to know what Sven was doing in the shadows. A large puff of smoke exploded in the center of the cell and Raquel's eyes brightened with hope that Moon Runner had come to save her, but a bird emerged from the plume.

Phoenix looked at Raquel and then at the pair in the corner. "I don't want to know, do I?"

"I doubt it. What are you doing here?"

The Phoenix rolled his eyes. "Its a long story, and I'm hoping someone will tell it to me sometime."

Sven looked up and saw the Phoenix. "Hey, bird! Wanna make it a gleesome threesome?"

"What?"

Raquel said, "No, he doesn't."

"I don't?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay."

A violent buzzing noise interrupted their conversation. Dust filled the air, and a chainsaw erupted from the wall. It quickly drew a circle and the concrete fell out. Bob Villah strode in through the dust cloud. "And this is how we make a new entrance... Hey, why the hell am I in a prison?"

Phoenix turned to Raquel. "Who's that?"

"A frosted flake. Lets go while we can."

Raquel and Phoenix scurried out the hole while Sven and his bison crawled over Bob. Bob was screaming, "Hey! You can't do this! I'm on TV!" Bob pulled up the chainsaw and cut off the Bison's horns. Enraged, the bison thrust harder and suddenly Bob's mouth was full.

Bob knew he was in a pickle. Raising the chainsaw one more time, he shaved it's head clean off and repainted the cell a brilliant red. The bison slid off him and Sven started crying and holding the bison's tail.

Bob took off through his entrance as an alarm sounded. Rae Anne and Lola Fitz ran in and saw the carnage. Rae Anne turned to her partner and said, "Start the barbecue."

Raquel and Phoenix had made good time, and were two blocks away before the bird asked, "What the hell's going on?"

"I don't know."

"Where are we going?"

"Dunno."

"Well, stop and lets find out."

They stopped. "Okay, I'm open for suggestions."

"Well, is there anyone you want to see?"

"Yeah, but I don't know where he is."

"Alright, hop on my back. I keep bouncing around all over the place, and I could use someone to chat with. Maybe we'll bounce to this guy."

Raquel climbed onto Phoenix's back and they took off into a banana fudge time ripple.

PART XXIX - HOTELS, MOTELS, and OTHER SUPPOSITORIES

The Wanderer woke. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up. Looking over, Ed was dead asleep. Wanderer got up and pulled the curtains open. Bright sun flooded into the room and Ed started to stir.

"What da fuck... Close the damn curtains."

"It lives! Where the hell did you sneak off to last night?"

"Had to run a small errand."

Wanderer opened up the door and picked up the complimentary newspaper to see a ruin that looked vaguely like the British parliament buildings.

"Hey, did you know that somebody nuked the British parliament?"

"Some guy was babbling about it in a bar but I didn't think he was serious."

Wanderer stepped back into the room, noticing that Ed's passport was out. "Where'd you go again?"

"I went to England for a Guinness and to nuke the parliament buildings, whaddaya think?"

"Sorry. Anyway, we better get cracking."

"I hope you're not starting a drug habit."

"Nah, but I've heard some neat things about synthetic fibres. I wanna boogey over to Las Vegas by evening. I'm having my annual get together with Moon Runner."

Ed pulled the pillow over his head.

"Come on we've gotta get breakfast and hit the road Ed!"

"Ahh, I feel sick."

"Probably just jetlag."

"Yeah two supersonic flights can really hit ya in the old pit."

"Right."

Ed dragged his carcass out of bed, and his cerebral cortex switched into slow mode. They went down and had breakfast, then were off breaking speed limits in their new wheels.

"So where ya meetin’ this dude?"

"The Burning Sands Hotel. Moon Runner has a neat way to win at poker there."

"I'll bet."

"You ever meet him."

"I ran into 'im once, but he tripped off in a hurry."

"Yeah, that sounds like him. Never in the same place long enough to disturb the air."

The road stretched out before them and became a single endless line to the horizon and they both fell asleep. Luckily the car was in autopilot, one of those new options that is only being tested in a few vehicles.

{Convenient, huh?}

PART XXVIII - LOOSE LIPS and CATNIP

Queen Elizabeth stalked the corridors of Buckingham Palace, looking for mice. A ruckus erupted behind her, and she ducked behind a suit of armour to avoid being played with by Prince Edward and ??????

Prince Charles burst out calling, "Mumsy... Oh Mumsy... Oh there you are. I need some help picking out a suit to wear to the poetry reading tonight."

"Would you quit being such a mama's boy and grow up. Pick your own damn suit and lock these damn kids up!"

"Yis mumsy."

After the royal youngsters departed, Liz padded off to find something to take her mind off this torture. She climbed along the railing overlooking the ball room.

Geeves and another man entered the ball room below. "Yis sah, we need you to remove these darned democrats. Her Majesty the kitten is livid that no one listens to her."

"I don't come cheap."

"Of course not, mister..."

"No names, please."

"Of course. Otherwise it wouldn't be a secret, would it."

"You catch on."

"Yis, anyway, I believe we should be able to meet your fee."

"I'll send you the bill."

The two men departed from the ball room. Liz jumped down from the railing in a joyous leap and then realized it was to the wrong side. She hit the ball room floor with a thud. After Liz shook her head and body, a large puff of smoke exploded in the center of the room. A huge bird emerged, stared at the tapestries, ornate plates, and rugs. "What the hell am I doing here?"

The Queen's eye's widened. "Dinner!" She lunged and bit into one of the Phoenix's claws.

"Ow! Buzz off." He flicked his toe and the kitten slid into a suit of armour that promptly collapsed on top of her. The Phoenix vanished.