The Archfornicator of Canterbury

71 Journey to the centre of the mind

The cordons surrounding the alien spaceship had been replaced with genuine riot barricades, imported from Transvestitia just for the occasion. There were now five dog patrols instead of two, and each policeman had been issued with bulletproof vests, helmets and other paraphernalia intended to intimidate anyone who wanted to get closer to the spaceship than the authorities had deemed proper.

Professor Drøvel wasn't quite sure if he'd been able to get close enough. He hoped that the sixfold dose of mushrooms he'd just taken would be enough to compensate for the distance. The clock on the Cathedral tower was no longer there to tell the time, but the Professor didn't need an external reference to tell him that five minutes had passed since ingestion and the shrooms were starting to kick in. The first sign was swirling patterns in his peripheral vision. He was already starting to feel empathic towards passers-by, and it would not be long before he could sense their feelings and thoughts. He wasn't interested in tourists, though. His mission was to make contact with the crew of the enormous space vessel that loomed over his head.

"...hhhhoooo..."

It's working, the Professor thought. He would have punched the air and shouted YES! had he not been too exhausted to move.

"...whhhhooo..."

I am Hans Drøvel, he thought. High Priest of the Church. Your Church.

"...whhhhaaaatttt..."

I am here to help you fulfill the Prophecy. The Prophecy laid down in the Holy Scriptures that You gave the Founding Fathers millennia ago. I have come here to become Your Voice.

"...we have found our voice..."

What. Impossible. That can't be true.

"...we are speaking through our voice to your leader..."

The Professor felt like being in a rollercoaster that was gyrating wildly around all three axes. He was running a fever, and his hands felt like two balloons. His mind was racing in all directions at once, and he did not even attempt to keep up. In spite of this, he saw the implications of what the aliens had just communicated all too clearly. His careful preparations had failed utterly and completely. He could not fulfill the Prophecy. Someone else had already taken his place as The Voice.

When he started to convulse and foam at the mouth, the tourists who had politely ignored him so far started to pay attention. It didn't take long before everyone had moved at least three meters away from the writhing Professor whose eyes were bulging and rolling wildly. Finally, someone had the good sense to call an ambulance. By the time the paramedics arrived, most of the violent convulsions had subsided and he was just moaning quietly. His face and clothes were covered in snot and vomit. The paramedics got him on a stretcher and wheeled him away. Most of the tourists took snapshots of the receding ambulance.

The Archfornicator of Canterbury by Olli-Pekka Rinta-Koski
is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 Australia License.