This is the continuation of Our Lady of Alcor. For you as for me, I drew these facts from the Ana-Kash, the honest book of Ana which we now call the Akashic Records. This enormous work, attributed to the goddess Ana of Alcor, concerns everything that lives, has lived or will live through the infinite multiverse. For the Nagual warriors, this is only a certain position of the assembly point…
In the previous episode, little Ana looses her temper when a minion announces to her that Terra has a great chance of disappearing body and soul. The goddess is out of her mind: her last creation compromised by incompetents! Last, that’s not right. Ana is an eight-year-old virgin goddess. She hasn’t proven herself. Terra is her very first terraformed planet.
The disaster was narrowly averted. Terra is saved. Good, otherwise we wouldn’t be here! The archon of Terra, Aorn, has regained control, and everything would have been in order if the Great Gods had not intervened. Not convenient. Rather dry and brittle. Their message is short and clear: Ana here at the trot. Catastrophe! The great goddess must show up at the Immense. And that’s not said nicely. Dark Sunday…
Before leaving for the Galactic Center, Our Lady has to change her appearance. The small one for her eight years old: four meters twelve. Ridiculous size among the Great Gods: the smallest of them measure several tens of kilometers!! Not to mention cadors whose size is thousands of kilometers. How can you be taken seriously when you’re so tiny that they don’t even see you? Ana has to grow up. A lot. And fast!
Worse, if she went as is to the Galactic Center, she would have no chance of surviving. When you measure a few meters, you can’t resist the terrible attraction of the Black Hole Major. BHM sucks everything — that’s its role.
In doing so, the whole Milky Way turns around. Galactic dyson, it even eats invisible dust, among which our Great Goddess, the Earth, the Sun, Ur and Alcor.
The big girl wouldn’t stand a chance. And that makes her feel blue. Ana, she said to herself, you’re only a goddess away from the Centre. You’re only giant on Terra. In the eyes of the great, you are dust. And dust you will remain. We will not even see you. The vacuum cleaner will swallow you, Gods know where you’ll end up!
BHM is nothing but the main world assholes. Simple MWA. And in other improbable uncertain worlds, everything that MWA aspire to is spit out by great disguisers: FGB, Fontaines de Gerbe Blanche. A huge mocking laughter makes the heart of the world waver. This laughter is so powerful that it crushes everything in its way. So thunderous that it bursts the stars in clusters. So piercing that it smashes the dams of the sky. This laugh is so lively that he grabs Ana by her feet and pulls her out of bed. She wakes up soaked with tears, sweat and…
“Snif? It’s wet? It stinks! I peed my pants! Shit and f… Chambermaids!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The grass to grow
To grow in the system of Alcor, its star, there is only the gigander. This grass changes anyone into god. Its sap is gigantophile. The plant-to-grow grows on the green Ur, the planet of the Goddess. But not on earth. The former gods did not want. To help you, dear humans! To protect you, they said.
They lied. From the very beginning, they lied to us about this, about that, about everything. Protecting us is the least of their worries. The truth is, we’re too tough to deal with. They call us sneaky, hidden freaks. To them, we’re degenerate clones.
Therefore, no gigander down here. Never. When you can have, you can keep, their first motto. Have the upper hands over descendance. Fabulous Former Gods! Truely efficient they are! They don’t care for mortality, they don’t bother with morality. Our gods have other christs to fry. That’s why they’re beloved.
As its name suggests, the gigander is magical: it makes you grow. Goddess Ana knows it — but has never seen it. The gigander stays in the twilight zone.
If Our Lady needs to grow, it’s easy, just do a gigander cure. Easy, easy, it’s quick. The cure is delicate. No one has managed to grow uniformly without becoming deformed, with a huge belly or flattened head. And then you already have to be able to harvest it. Too bad. Nothing stops the Goddess. We don’t catch the gigander as we pick the cress. The gigander is itinerant. It makes it hard to take.
His phototropism imposes darkness. The gigander must follow the last rays of Alcor to be always in its light without grilling in the heat of the day. On the ground, no plants move. The roots are anchored in the soil. In Ur, it is otherwise. The roots of the gigandre do not burrow, but remain on the surface of the soil. Rubbery, spiral, they form plant springs. Thanks to them, the plant moves by leaps.
In the twilight, it is mobile and elusive, like other itinerant herbaceous plants. Very fast, the gigander leaps from one puddle of light to another, always in accordance with Alcor’s rays.
Whether you’re a goddess like me or a snail like everyone else, you don’t have to be a spectator of your own existence. We have to challenge the circumstances. The Gods will hear me and it will surprise them. I need six kilos of gigandre. We’ll infuse them into my large pot of hot water, the Brazen Sea. In a shady place, I will plunge into it, all of a sudden submerging myself under the water to swim there, to brave the danger that can emerge from it.
The goddess asked for the quickest couriers. Run like a madman not to miss her. You must tie her to be able to stop her.
They all wear gloves, because if a single naked finger were to touch the plant, it would immediately grow to a hundred times its size. Picking looks like a battle. To see it, you have to hide in a lighted place, except that the rays of Alcor are capricious. Waiting takes time. With the help of shade, the spotter goes to sleep. None of them knew how to take a single strand of gigander.
An advisor suggests using the bog blackmailer. Telepathic and grumpy, he lives alone in twilight zones. He knows how to catch gigandres. He knows how to prepare the infusion. He knows how to practice the bath ritual. He knows how to avoid outrages. The only bug is the price. The blackmailer is not cheap. Our Lady doesn’t care, she will pay what it takes. Let’s go get that funny one, she says.
– Noble Queen, this cannot be. Like his gigander, the blackM is elusive. Go and find him, Your Highness, he is telepathic, he will come to you. Your visit can only flatter him. He will please Your Holiness.
What a clown he can be, she said to herself. No matter, I will go. In this hot season, courtesans flock to the air-conditioned palace. I could use some fresh air.
Noisy wake up
The night before she left, the young goddess was afraid of the dark. All the children have nightmares. She stayed up very late not to see the dark night country. Chances are she wet her sheets again.
– The royal crew is ready, Your Highness!
– Stop calling me that, for Christ’s sake! I’m tiny, you hear me! Mi – nus – cule!“
– Excuse me, your… uh! your minusculity?”
Three Astro-Dumpsters are on the ground. They will leave before the spaceship of the Goddess, who is still busy at her toilet with her three chambers.
A good hour later, His Highness is ready. It is a procession of porters that accompanies him to the spaceship, loaded with trunks, suitcases, various bags and hat boxes.
“Put it all in the astrobennes! We have no idea to take so much crap! When the girl comes, I’ll say two words to her!!”
“Which ones, please?” said the goddess.
“Oh oh… hello, Your Highness!”
“There is no greatness that holds!! No greatness! I am mi-nus-cule!!!
It is said that the Queen of Alcor inspired the character of Cleopatra. Ana, too, has such a nice nose.
As the young goddess prepares to climb into the royal spaceship, her first chamberlain comes running.
“My queen! Wait for me! There are…”
“There’s always something to do with him! Take off, pilot. We’ll see about that when I get back.”
And the first chamberlain, powerless, attends the launch of the spaceship without being able to do anything. He then turns to a tramp who accompanies him.
“It’s too stupid,” he said. “She’s going to look for you in the sunset country, when you’re here to serve her.”
“I’m not in anyone’s service, much less this impudent virgin.
“Yet you are ahead of the call. How can you guess your arrival?”
“Do we need me, I’m here. We’re not telepathic for nothing. The girl doesn’t know anything.”
“She is so young…”
“She is so stupid!”
After hours wasted on nothing, the goddess returns empty-handed, finds the telepath on the tarmac, and yells at her sheepish chamberlain. The blackmailer has already prepared the gigandre bath in the large brass cauldron. The rest is confidential. No one attends the ritual of the bath. The master keeps his secrets. In an icy hallway, massed courtesans may well get tired. By the annoyed waiting, they have more than enough. Will they smash everything?
Suddenly the door explodes.
“Oops!” said a loud voice. “I can’t pass…”
All they see behind the door breaks is a bare foot occupying the entire door frame. The queen is at the end of this cute foot, don’t doubt it. Its size, volume and weight have increased thirty-fold,’ says the marsh singer. Next to him, a cashier fills a large wheelbarrow with gold bars. The singer barely grabs it.
“Otherwise, still she is the same little pest,” he says breathless as he moves away.
Such A Great Greatness
This is the tale. Our Lady can go to the Immense, she is less puny, no doubt they will listen. Just believe it, get in the spaceship and hop!
“Nothing at all! No hop, no zzzoum, no pfffffuitt! Not even a spaceship!! Did you see how big I am?” No dumpster is big enough for my new greatness! And no time to build one!!
– We could ask the Immense to send one of their cruisers, Your Great… Your New Greatness!
“And what else? I move without their help! What would I look like, I ask you?”
– Pffrrrt! Hmm…
– Shut up! AND STOP LAUGHING!!
“No, I was thinking more of our allies the Flying Wolves. They have to come through here next night, so I was thinking maybe…?” Possibly … ? If it suits Your New Greatness however ?