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Chapter 6
Darc's English Diary, June (Iunna) 21st, 2897 AD (940 Aw Monro):
("Dear Diary: No one understands me like you do!")
I've finally gotten the hang of the Castilians' blasted grammar. I guess the way they construct sentences is a product of the great migrations that followed upon the Ice Age; I've found traces of Chinese, Russian, and lots of plain old English in their language.
("So the natives sound exactly like New Yorkers!")
One thing worries me: not many people around for conversation in my old language. When I get tired of writing a diary, my English will deteriorate...
("Like, I'm the leest bloke who's tolkin' propper Inglish, eh? Bleedin' shite, innit, guv'nor?")
Last night I managed to get through the last of Al-Masur's History... strange reading indeed. It's rather obvious the poor man mixed up fact and fiction -
(You mean, like a certain science fiction writer? Wink wink, nudge nudge...)
but who can blame him? There was nobody around to help him sort out between old novels and genuine historical records. No film, no disk drives - Bor's cellar is full of ancient CD-ROM discs, and I can't read a single bloody one!
(You're not supposed to read them, dummy!)
Besides, I think they're too scratched to play even if I had a CD player.
The History of the World According to Al-Masur, and this age, can be summed up as follows:
("Shit happens.")
First, there was the Green Age - the "immeasurably long time of standstill between the Earlier Ice and the Eternal Ice," as Al-Masur puts it. "The Earth was green and fertile. The people were simple farmers living off the wild crops and half-wild cattle.
("Mad Cow Disease ravaged the land.")
They were heathens, worshipping innumerable pagan gods such as Christos, Butta, and the many-armed Konshivius."
(I think Al-Masur's sources have confused Taoism with Hinduism somewhere here.)
(Not the only thing that's "confused" about this story!)
Then came the Steel Age, when man first learned to use artificial power to build self-propelling machines. "The early robots poured smoke into the sky, until the trees turned black and the children fell ill from breathing the air. But the people continued to feed the smoking robots, which produced ever more clothes, food, and houses for the growing population.
(Sir! I object to your ethnic slur, calling the Chinese "smoking robots"!)
The power of the old gods began to weaken under the rule of the robots. New prophets came - Tarwin, Marx and Spencers. They preached that the gods did not exist, that the world belonged to the humans and the robots in alliance."
("And they worshipped Richard Dawkins as their god!")
(This must refer to the Industrial Revolution of the 19th century. Fairly easy to follow up to here - but then it gets all screwed up.)
Oops, time to go to sleep. The city lamps will soon be turned off by Lord Damon himself - sole proprietor of the fusion reactor under the castle. The greedy old fellow leaves nothing but the castle's heating system and a few street lamps on. The time is - they don't use mechanical watches, but I guess the sundial is better suited for a life without offices and factories - about nine, I think. Over and out.
("Good night, sleep tight, hope the giant mutated radioactive bedbugs won't bite.")
Darc's English Diary, June (Iunna) 22nd, 2897 AD (940 Aw Monro):
("Deer Dijary: I am stil strugglink wif my dysleksia...")
Today I was introduced to Bor's family. I'd better write that down, so I won't forget those weird names. Amazing, what power Bor's got, he actually ordered his wife to avoid me and was obeyed. This age might not be so bad after all, ha ha.
(Hey! Booo! We apologize to all female readers out there.)
OSANNA is Bor's wife - she's a few years younger than him, but in pretty good health. Is she his second? Hard to tell. Osanna's in charge of the household, but keeps away from Bor's servant robots. She seems very nice, but these people are quite formal so you don't get to know them easily.
("Could the reason be I haven't brushed my teeth in 900 years?")
DOHAN is their son, seventeen years old - he spends very little time in the castle or the library. His main interests seem to be martial arts, fencing and flying around in his dad's private jet machines. Dohan's not a bad kid, just a little wild - he'll probably settle down once he gets married to the daughter of some neighbouring city-state noble-nose.
("And becomes a corrupt, bloated oppressor of the masses.")
EVELI is Dohan's kid sister. She's being raised as a lady, and it shows. One can see in her eyes that she thinks I'm a lousy commoner, an upstart who's fooled her father into thinking I'm a time traveller. Well, you can't win'em all.
("You gotta admit... I played this stinking city like a harp from hell!")
Then there's Bor's own younger sister BWYNN and her husband ANDON PASKO. Nothing remarkable about them, really - they don't speak much. There's some family feud between the Paskos and the Damons, reaching back a few centuries. Librian warned me about mentioning this to Bor - he can get nasty when he's angry.
("Don't make me angry, Mr. McGee. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry.")
And speaking of family - LIBRIAN is an old widower since many years, and married to his books anyway. His apprentice, 15-year-old AWONSO is the son of a common craftsman.
("They were last seen fighting over a book about 'The History of the Female Nude'.")
Al-Masur's history book continues in SOD IT! The lights went out. Over & out.
Darc's English Diary, June (Iunna) 23rd, 2897 AD (940 Aw Monro):
I must continue writing down my translation of Al-Masur...
(Don't force yourself to slog through this boring diary for our sake, pal!)
After the Steel Age came the Golden Age - my time, the 20th century, as these people see it.
("When was your Golden Age?" - "Oh, when I was 25, I think." - "Me too." - "Yeah, it's a subjective thing.")
Al-Masur pours it on thick:
("History, smothered in gravy - Texas Style!")
"It was a time of constant change, of every day offering fantastic new discoveries - but no one loved it. It was a time of great depravity, of all imaginable excesses - but no one admitted it (sic!). Mankind fought, ate, multiplied, conquered galaxies (sic!).
(I'm starting to feel "sic" of this book, too!)
Billions of humans packed together on the Earth, the Moon, and Mars. From pole to pole, humans dug up all available resources to feed the robots which fed mankind.
("And the Poles fought desperately for their available resources.")
The robots began to grow intelligent, and once nearly threatened to exterminate mankind under the robot prophets Tee-1 and Tee-2 (sic!).
(Say that again and I'll get "sic" all over this page, pal!)
"But they perished, for this was also the age of The Coming of the Goddess and the Singing King. Praise Monro, the first human incarnation of the All-Mother! Hail Vis, the first one to be possessed by the Divine Song! For it is written: Monro is the Goddess in our time. She appeared to the entire world in one instant, a million images of the One. For it is written: The King is alive, and was seen walking the earth outside the common man's home. He is all men, young man and old fat man at once. And he too showed himself to the entire world, alive to the night!"
(No comment. If I think too much about this, I go crazy. I haven't gathered the courage to visit their church services yet - what if I laugh out loud, will they call me a heretic and burn me at the stake?)
(Go ahead, laugh! The readers are begging you!)
But from here on it gets real scary. Al-Masur's account of what happened in the first centuries after I was frozen, is confusing:
"The Golden Age was blessed by the Goddess and the Singing King. Their first incarnations walked the earth and went away. And in their absence, the people grew comfortable and decadent.
("In comfortable reclining chairs, with decadent massage motors and cup-holders.")
They ridiculed the King, and turned to false gods such as Koban-Jem the Singer Of Death. They desecrated the temples of the Goddess with filthy images of perversion and murder.
(Is he talking about cinemas? Because then I agree! Saw was absolutely disgusting!)
And they forgot the Divine Words of Love, for the lure of Setan-Klaws. Setan-Klaws the red, bearded demon of greed, who sneaked into houses at night and poisoned the childrens' minds with a limitless lusting after dead things.
("HO-HO-HO! Now I Have A Machine Gun!")
"The children of Koban-Jem and Setan-Klaws ruled the cities like wolves, preying upon the innocent and waging war among themselves. They became creatures with neither faith nor compassion. Forever damned were they, and the wrath of the Goddess was merciless. She shook the Earth in its orbit, and let the Eternal Ice upon the world.
(The Goddess was later tried and convicted for the fatal shaking of Earth.)
The Ice slowly crushed the cities and froze millions to death. In one century, the Eternal Ice had covered nearly half of the world and made the oceans sink down."
(Instead of sinking up?)
(It seems from the climate now - dry and not very warm, even here in North Castilia - that this Ice Age is still very much active. But what caused the planet's axis to tilt and started the change in the climate? Al-Masur offers no scientific explanation.
(Ruben Studdard moved to Alaska.)
"Billions of people fled toward the equator to escape the cold. The world's tribes crowded and fought for the decreasing food supplies, and the mighty robots were unable to stop the advancing ice. Many people starved to death, and the remaining ones turned mad with hunger and desperation..."
I'm crying again. Thank God that the kids were gone long before this happened. I can't continue now.
I miss my ex-wife.
(Snap out of it, man!! You're talking crazy!)
Maggie, if only you could have joined me in the freeze!
Darc's English Diary, June (Iunna) 24th, 2897 AD (940 Aw Monro):
It's no pleasure, but for some reason I force myself to translate Al-Masur - it's more real to me when I read it in my own language.
"The First Great War occurred somewhere between 150 or 200 After Monro. Two or three billion people perished. The cities of the North and South attacked the cities of the Equator, and retaliation struck swift and massive. Many died when the war-robots were sent through space and fired nuclear heat upon the cities. But despite huge losses, there was still not enough food and room.
(To sustain the demands of the 4 or 5 remaining Americans.)
"And the Second Great War came, somewhere between 220 and 270 After Monro. This time there were no more nuclear robots, so the city lords unleashed the plague known as Pseudo-Leprosy upon each other. Woe and curse the evil ones who let the Plague upon us! Their crime is unforgivable, for it killed many more people than the previous war and condemned countless millions to a fate worse than death.
("They had to endure Britney Spears' last comeback tour. The horror! The horror!")
"Only a minority of mankind managed to hide underground, until the Plague had come to rest. When they returned to the surface, they built the fortified cities which stand to this day.
(Fortified with Vitamin A, B and C!)
The Lepers who survived the Plague were doomed to wander the earthly wastelands forever, carrying the Plague as a reminder and warning of human folly. For it is written: Praise the Goddess who spared her faithful ones, and pray for the return of the King!"
(But, as one might have expected, praying for a Tolkien novel produced no results.)
It's a bloody shame, that's what it is. I feel guilty somehow for having escaped the whole mess - stupid, I know, but there it is. I was dumb lucky, that's all. Left forgotten for 900 years. With a little less luck, they could have thawed me up just 200 years after 1999 and BOOM!
(And POW! And ZAPP! And SIZZLE!)
I've got a human maid now, but that pesky robot Lachtfot still follows me around the castle like a watchdog.
(News flash, buddy: it is a watchdog.)
As soon as I get him out of the way, I'll try to get to know the maid better. She's a bit older than me and a bit scared of me too, but I don't care. This solitude is more than I can take.
("Man, I'm desperate enough to have sex with Anna Nicole Smith!")
Darc's English Diary, June (Iunna) 25th, 2897 AD (940 Aw Monro):
Tomorrow they'll finally let me out of this castle!
(And into another castle! And another, and another! Wheee!)
Bor has invited me to attend the Summer Joust, which occurs every June in connection with the Summer Festival. It's a bit late in the month, but the weather isn't quite what it used to be in my own time. There is much expectation in the air - word has it that Bor's champion, his own son Dohan, is a sure winner this year too.
(Cos' if he isn't, the jury hangs!)
Everyone is cheerful (except Andon Pasko), every room's been decorated with flowers and green garlands. Someone's even stuck a flower onto the head of Lachtfot - suits him right.
(Hey! Are you anti-Robotic or something?)
I was surprised to learn that there are actually knights in shining armor in this age - their armor has to shine very bright, to deflect laser-beams. Each knight has a crew of pages, who do nothing but polish armor all day.
(Enough! Not another word about their "polishing" his "armor", thank you VERY much. Sicko.)
The feudal lords, such as Bor Damon, are sworn to protect their city-states against attacking enemies - that's why they have knights.
What enemies? The city-states are heavily fortified, with laser cannons posted all around the outer walls. The cities are placed 50-100 kilometers away from one another, and quite self-sufficient despite the alliances between them - with the empty wastelands surrounding the cities, what is there to fight?
(You know... telemarketers!)
"Al-Masur" hints that the cities were isolated to shut out the Lepers - survivors of the artificial plague that almost wiped out mankind 500 years ago. Just once I tried to ask Librian about the "Lepers" - had he ever seen one, or even a picture of one? He got too scared to answer, so I'll avoid that taboo until I'm sure it won't get me into trouble.
And speaking of armor and robots, now I understand why these people use technology in such limited ways. A telling example:
("This guy was trying to hammer in a nail with a frying-pan...")
Early this morning, the servant robot Vhustank broke down. Bor sent for a couple of craftsmen to repair him. Five specialized mechanics came to the castle, armed with an arsenal of instruments and carts loaded with old reference manuals.
(Just like that time when I tried to program my VCR.)
They put on dust-protective coats, and placed the broken machine in a dust-free, inflatable tent. While two of them tinkered inside the tent, they handed little notes with queries to the remaining three technicians. The three men outside read the notes, and leafed through several thick volumes to find an explanation. When they had looked up a possible reference, they copied it onto a small hand-written form, which they passed into the tent.
(Your tax dollars at work.)
After many hours of consulting and checking - I didn't stay around all day - the specialists found the source of the malfunction and sent for the correct spare part. The robots' delicate spare parts are manufactured by a special guild of craftsmen, who work in small, specialized workshops - the spare part happened to be in stock, but it had taken about one year to put it together correctly!!
(By Frenchmen!!)
Finally, they had Vhustank up and running. "A record short time," the specialists boasted. "Once we had to go over a robot for seven months before we found the fault."
I asked them, "Why can't you just build spare robots, and let them replace the broken robot while you work on it?" The five mechanics stared at me like I was crazy - then they laughed, thinking it was a joke.
(But seriously, he was crazy.)
Young Awonso explained it to me: each single robot is the product of three cooperating guilds, and takes about ten years to build - they are often inherited within the family, and Vhustank goes back at least two generations. Small wonder then, that only the nobility can afford robots!
(And hand-made AA batteries for the robots!)
And there's more: it seems that all knowledge they have of technology is inherited too. The robots, the aircraft, the fusion power - everything fragments of a glorious past, painstakingly copied and passed on from the time when people cared to invent new things.
(Back in the 1960s.)
No factories - no scientists - no change. These are the new Dark Ages.
(I hope the maid won't return to my room tonight. I'm too tired.)
(Then he gets a letter from some stranger who wants to sell fake Viagra.)
DARC AGES (c)A.R.Yngve 1995, 2000, 2004. All rights reserved. May not be copied without permission.
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