BOOK OF KAREN
Karen has high cheekbones. Her hair and eyes are dark brown. In fact her physical appearance is something that goes right into my eyes, to a part of my mind where it starts ringing bells and gongs. This is the first, vital scrap of Karen information. Next she is a key worker for the assertive care I feel so ambivalently about. Don’t forget this, Harold. She is the key worker.
Now the key worker does certain work. She looks at you with the brown eyes, and smiles with the small mouth. Her overbite reminds me of Ruth. It is cute. It rings another bell and turns on a computer. Her work is about a lot of talking. When she does the talking the rest of my mind is free to sort things out and find the obsessive channel. I gather that she talks about very rational things, since when I play the scene back I can get at some of this other Karen information.
The next important chunk of Karen information is that she does not want to run wild in my strange imagination or appear in my writings. This puts a negative slant on all this other vital Karen information. I am not supposed to create this document, if I really want to be nice to the real Karen. The real Karen cannot afford to be really nice to me, although actually she is. I have other theories. She needs the job to support the lifestyle, which includes two horses. These are huge creatures. You have to get up very early in the morning to feed them. By then these things are very hungry, and their huge black eyes stuck incongruously to the sides of their long, weirdo heads look at you while you supply the apples and they dribble.
So here we have the important facts. With rational processes every crazy thought about Karen may be reduced to something that makes sense, considering the context. Since this is pretty much forbidden information in a forbidden document as far as I can see, I will have to accept a dark path and get into the Demon Lords again. I do things like that anyway. By way of excuse I can say that with any kind of problem I turn it into information and think about it. If it still rings bells and suchlike I write about it. But this document is a secret from the real Karen.
THE REAL KAREN
The real Karen has very little to do with the nature and control of the other Karens. The imaginary Karen has a similar attitude, and does not think real Karens exist. What exists, she claims, is the conceptual universe, and being imaginary she has her life in that and visits my mind from time to time. I insist that this real Karen is her inspiration. Consider the real situation. I share a very solid and real Earth with Karen. While she talks about something else I work hard on gathering the Karen information. I have to decide what her latest funny costume means and how to place her body language. Words are just the front, but since the real Karen is thinking that our main communication must be going through the words, I give enough brain power towards answering the questions in an interesting way, to prove that I remain quite a lunatic at heart and in need of Karen.
Now while the real Karen makes vocal sounds and pays attention to the random sounds I make in response, while I’m treating all sounds as the conventional format for bogus information, I study her body language very hard. She packs all the genuine Karen information into this communication format and only notices with disapproval from time to time. The problem is that I consider myself a Genius yet in fact I can’t say I’ve decoded very much at all from these strange movements and gestures. I recall the very obvious one about her superficial friend, but having made the wrong decision to call the information body language derived I am pretty much stumped.
I could easily rave on about the body of Karen. I think this is a good idea, since the topic is so very fascinating. For some reason her shapes …but then this is not really the Karen information. To be honest I have to explode my silly jokes as we go and say, oh alright, plenty of Karen information is spoken and I really listen. I must be paying attention. The words go into my mind and find folders and documents to go into. But I don’t have a file called key workers. In my mind the only folder she goes into is called beautiful women. That’s the point. I don’t care how intellectual the women become, since they are already in the folder. I count it as beauty of the mind since I can have interesting arguments.
Now after enough of these interesting arguments the beautiful woman mentioned in the folder thinks it must be a good idea to go somewhere else. The interesting arguments stop, on the real level, and what we have left is information in the folder. It is the responsibility of each man to devote much time to his folders. This often implies making sense of what happened. Be warned. The way a man makes sense of the information later uses the same functional attitudes that made the arguments so interesting in the first place. Beautiful women don’t like the interesting arguments, since these have reached a point past which they are not prepared to argue yet they are prepared to go away.
THE IMAGINARY KAREN
It is important to remember at all times that Karen is the key worker. She is not the Disability Dole Date or any funny things I dream up. She is heavily into remaining the real Karen. She should not be in my folder reserved for beautiful women at all, she just appears to me very much that she belongs in such a category. According to the real Karen her personal details don’t matter so much, the point is that she is there as a useful resource, like a library.
Beautiful, curvaceous shelves of books that smile at me and …well, a little more actually than this we say I have trouble imagining Karen in strictly functional terms. I simply cannot think of her as a library, even though she really wants to be a library for me. What she wants does make an impact. I really do want to respond to what she wants although she wants me to not respond so much to anything because she wants it, but because I want it. I want to respond to her wants in a personal way. But she doesn’t want that…
We go round in special loops of logic when the conversation has clearly covered enough ground.
In my folder is the imaginary Karen. She is composed of genuine Karen information. She looks as much like the real Karen as possible. The real Karen has power of veto. Anything that seems like a plausible Karen action to me and imaginary Karen can be swept under the carpet by the sudden appearance of the real Karen, who comes in a large special car. It has a blue licence plate with WQ in it to signify Government. The real Karen will be dressed in a new costume you have never seen in your life before, after about two years of fluctuating costumes. Each one is really a slightly different Karen. In fact they can be alarmingly different.
Most of these costumes are sexy if you ask me, but I bet they are not designed to turn me on. They do that as a mistake, when I take general key worker presentation a bit too personally. The Imaginary Karen wears only the vaguest of clothes, except for special occasions like appearing dramatically on the planet Dalerth. Then I did have her dressed in skin tight shiny black leather. She does have similar costumes. If the real Karen were to put her Dalerth costume on I’m telling you it would make a visual impact.
KAREN ON DALERTH
As a last desperate attempt to abide by the wishes of the real Karen and remove Karen from the imaginary worlds, I had her die on Dalerth. She collapsed in an unconscious way. The people around her did not know if she was just sleeping or what. Some said she would wake. Others claimed she had left Dalerth and the sector forever. After-all, they pointed out, she did not believe in any of it.
When I hear that Karen is changing jobs and will no longer visit me as key worker I went to the funeral scene. Karen had been buried. Rain fell on the raw dalerth of the grave. There were people dressed in black. I remember they wore funny hats that doubled as umbrellas. It was all really sad.
Later I peer under the dalerth, and look at that. There is a great underground cathedral dedicated to Karen. The priests dig a shaft up and recover the coffin. They remove Karen from the coffin and tuck her into bed. According to their religious beliefs Karen will wake up later.
KAREN WAKES UP
Karen woke up. Something felt sort of wrong to her. It was hard to place. She gazed at something black that bulged above her. She was in a big four poster bed all done up with black satin. Each of the four posts was elaborately carved with coiling gargoyles and mythical creatures. Light in the room shone from two yellow globes held in the mouths of stone dragons that writhed across the ceiling.
With a few quick glances Karen saw that the rest of the room was just as elaborately and strangely decorated. It was not to her taste at all, but someone had obviously paid a lot for it. She climbed out of the bed. She was wearing a thin black slip. She found a thick green dressing gown that seemed to be waiting for her. The rack was carved with twisting creepers of wood and strange projecting fingers. With the warmer garment on she walked across the decorated rug.
At the far end of the room she found the doorway to a bathroom. There was a large tub steaming with water. Karen would have preferred the shower, but there was none, and this bath was waiting. She decided to have a bath, being a bit chilly in the room.
Karen had visions of unthawing as she floated in the bath, but the puzzling thoughts did not hit until later. She found a thick black towel with a KP monogram in the corner. Karen frowned as she dried herself. She found a long wardrobe and automatically began to search through the racks.
What am I doing? It came as a stray thought.
Looking for clothes, she answered. There were all sorts of odd things here. Plenty of black Gothic dresses and things she had never seen before. Karen selected something tight and silvery, trousers with a matching jacket.
Now by this time another kind of awareness had woken up in Karen’s mind and gone to feed the horses. She was looking in a mirror. Needed a peaked silver cap to complete the outfit, but there was no hat. Karen eyed her reflection carefully. “But I am the real Karen,” she breathed. She shook her head. This was not like her at all. Out of character. She did not talk to mirrors. She had the growing sensation that something was not right. She could not remember things clearly. She did not recognise this place. She was getting prepared for something. What was it? Karen took a brush and began to brush her hair. Her image looked back at her blankly.
THE HIGH PRIEST
When she was ready a set of doors that she had not properly noticed before began to open inward. Revealed to her was an aging man in a most strange kind of uniform and a little hat. Once inside the room he folded up and bowed on the floor.
“Oh Goddess, oh Karen, you have returned to us.”
“Get up. Come on, get off the floor. I’m not a Goddess.”
“What ever you say. Not a Goddess. What will you be?”
“I’m just an ordinary person. A human being.”
“Interesting strategy, oh Karen. So this will be the female Christ angle. How can we get to the Mother Goddess Karen except via the daughter? Divinity now makes itself flesh in you, yes, I can see that.”
“Well I can’t. There’s no divinity with me. You can forget about that.”
“I would try, for your sake, but the Goddess is said to wake with a fogged memory. You won’t remember at the moment. I am the High Priest. I wait for the waking of Karen. The whole of Dalerth waits. We waited for you. Now you have woken. This is a momentous event in our history. Now you are hungry, so your dinner is waiting in the next room.” The high Priest made an odd flourishing gesture and walked out of the double doors, bowing to her happily.
Karen followed behind the man in funny uniform, mostly because she was very hungry. But now a kind of alarm had gone off in her mind. She did not really feed the horses today, just had thoughts about it. Now she remembered other things. About being a Goddess. About Dalerth.
Karen stepped through into a sumptuous dining room. There was a single silver place setting at a solid polished table of dark wood. There was a roast dinner steaming on its silver plate. The High Priest stood to one side, bowing and beaming.
“No,” said Karen, “This can’t be happening. It’s his fantasy world.” Karen spun around, looking for a way out.
“Well, he does send his apologies. We know you don’t really want to be here. Yet for us it’s just wonderful. My whole religion is a waiting for Karen to wake. Usually she never does. You sleep for generation after generation. Now in my very lifetime, while I am High Priest you decide to wake up. This is a happy day, and since you have visited Dalerth again we will do our best to make you happy.”
Feeling somehow tricked Karen sat down to eat. She was famished. She tasted meat and vegetables. She noticed the unfamiliar silver. Everything was strangely real. Part of her mind just rejected it completely. This had to be a dream or something. Soon she would really wake up.
“Now while you eat I can fill you in. We know that your mind will be foggy and you won’t have any Dalerth information. You don’t need it where you come from. Dalerth is a planet that specialises in virtual reality. This is mostly a fantasy world. In this age many people suffer from a fast pace of confusing lifestyle, so what they do is get a mental illness and come here to live as a farmer. Everyone wants to be a farmer and we have trouble getting enough nobility. Anyway, this is known as an asylum planet. We are in hospital territory, which now covers the four major continents of Dalerth. Beyond hospital territory things change. There is an area known as the happening lands of Dalerth. Countries such as Peshoria, Doubt, Sadness and Epiland. Now the author you know lives on a tower in Epiland. He feeds us a flow of specially controlled mad information. He controls the order of scribes, and they seem to be everywhere.
“All of the hospital lands are ruled by kings. The kings are controlled by Queens. The council of queens is now meeting. They have too much power. In our system of government the Queens are answerable only to you, Karen, first and only Goddess of Dalerth. Ah, you don’t think that’s true. I know your philosophical stance quite well, not that it makes complete sense to me since you deny our reality, but your being awake on Dalerth makes all the difference. Here you have great power. Most of those mad farmers believe in Karen, only Karen can give orders to the Queens. You don’t know much about us but we all know about Karen. Whatever you do will have a huge impact. Consider my happy position. I will be considered an expert on you. I serve you directly. I have the highest honour.”
Karen had finished most of her plate. She looked sideways at the curious old man. “Well, I don’t accept any of it. None of this is real. It must be some kind of dream. I should wake up. I might be late for work by now.”
“Oh you did wake up. You chose to wake on Dalerth, and that really was a wise decision. It makes sense to wake in the place where you are most loved and treated the best. If you want to leave there might be problems. The nearest portal is in the Temple of Myron over in the happening lands of Dalerth. You are the natural enemy of Myron, so you can’t go there. The way to gain power on this planet is to send an army against Epiland and capture the author. Then you can start dictating terms.”
“I’m not going to start a war.”
“This is a designated asylum planet. It should all, by rights be hospital territory. Now we could arrange for a spacecraft to take you to the planet we call Earth, which is within the sector of the twenty two. All the sector, however, may be imaginary to you. It could be a different Earth that you come from. If you want to leave the sector you could try death or delusion, but I’m not sure that they would work for you. These functional methods require an acceptance that is not found in the philosophy of Karen. They mean quite different things to you.”
A tall set of doors opened and a woman in green robes with a shaven head entered the room. She carried a golden tray on which lay a number of cards. Once inside the door she dropped to her knees and bowed, holding the tray above her head. “Goddess Caroline, all the scribes honour you. We now submit to your religion and your priests. The prophesy is fulfilled.”
“Ah, you see. I knew this would happen one day,” said the high priest, “and here are your messages. News travels fast.” He walked over to the woman in green and lifted the tray. She scuttled backwards from the room without another word. The double doors closed.
“You see, you very waking presence on Dalerth changes so much. The scribes just sat on the fence for too long, working with your priests yet never accepting a belief in the Goddess. We made a pact with them long ago. If you were ever to wake our prophesy would be fulfilled. Actually I think the scribes did not accept you or imagine they would ever have to abide by the pact.”
“why did she call me Caroline?”
“only purists of the faith like me call you Karen. You have an interesting history of visits to Dalerth. About three hundred years ago we were allowed to make statues of you to worship, and what we knew about you was written down in the first book of Karen. At the time High Priest Ramul developed a new theology. He pointed out that the ideas of Karen were hostile to her own religion, and argued that you had two manifestations. As a statue to be worshipped Ramul claimed a second identity; the Goddess Caroline. She was different from the Karen of text and legend. Ramul calls Caroline the Real Karen, or the true spirit of Karen. You have one identity for believers and another for the non-believers. According to the book of Karen, you yourself are an unbeliever. According to Ramul the statue of Caroline comes to life as you realise your own divinity. You are teaching us to do the same. Later the book of Ramul came to be accepted by the mainstream religion. The priests though that you would prefer an alias anyway, so the name of Karen slipped from common usage. Most people worshipped the statue of Caroline and there was only one Goddess for them. Only the priests get into history and theology. To be accurate Karen is not the Goddess, yet she holds the seed of divinity. Caroline is the Goddess. Soon your memories will clear and you will call yourself Caroline. I think so. Now let’s read you some messages. You know the scribes go into trance and the powerful ones use them to write down their messages. Here we are. Welcome to Dalerth, love from Harold. Oh look at this one. You are recognised within the sector by the Demonlord Rashalika. He gives you the planet Fratac. Love from Rashalika. Well how amazing. Your religion can now expand to others in the sector. I knew it would be huge, but this goes beyond Dalerth.”
“Listen, this is no religion of mine. I’m certainly no Goddess and I don’t know how I got into such a dream but I don’t intend to stay or accept any of this nonsense.”
“Ah, but if Rashalika himself---,”
“There is no such person. I can see through it all and I recognise the imagination of Harold behind everything. It’s just a thought in Harold’s head and has no reality!”
“But Karen---,”
“It has no reality!” shouted Karen, suddenly rising from her chair. Anger flashed from her shallow brown eyes. She glared at the High Priest as if she wanted him to evaporate via the magical power of her eyes alone. The elderly man in curious uniform fell to his knees. A few cards fluttered from the golden tray to the polished amber floor.
THE CHOISES OF KAREN
For several long moments nothing moved in the dining room. The air was full of tension. All kinds of conflicting thoughts filled Karen’s mind. In some way her mind was divided. The place was unusual, yet in every other way it struck her as real. Perhaps she was having a complex delusion, since in another way she knew it was all wrong, an unreal world that she could never accept. The problem was that she used exactly the same kind of perception to establish ordinary reality. This experience was not like a dream or what she imagined delusion to be like. It felt exactly like reality to her, but in some different time and place.
Karen was breathing rapidly. The flash of anger had almost past. The High Priest did not move, and she realised that he would not be the first to break the silence. Karen did not really want to hear anything more he had to say, so she left him there and glanced around the room. Here, as in the bedroom, mythical creatures dominated the decorations. Most of the unlikely beasts were carved from a dark, reddish wood. They writhed across panelled walls and all around the pillars. For some reason she tried to pin them down to a culture she knew of, but her anthropological knowledge was minimal.
Karen looked up. From the high ceiling snake-like necks of marble reached down. The graven heads of children held the lighting globes over the massive dining table. She shivered, wondering why the decorations of a place supposedly catering to her should be so bizarre and not to her taste at all. She placed her palms on the smooth all-too-solid wood of the table and focussed on the High Priest.
“You don’t have to kneel. I keep telling you that I’m a perfectly ordinary woman. I don’t know what has happened to get me here, but I’m not …,”
“Karen--,”
“I’m not going along with it. I’m not Caroline or a Goddess of any kind and I just want to go home.”
“I’m pledged to serve you and help you. If there’s a way to get you home soon it will be followed. Since you are here I’d better fill you in on the situation. You don’t have to go along with it. So many important things are now set in motion. You have choices here. Call us unreal if you like. It is a different kind of world and far in your own Earthly future. This is all real enough to us. However, I know the book of Karen and the ontology you believe in, so you are a most realistic Karen from our perspective. Now can I read you more messages?”
“Just a couple.”
The High Priest clambered to his feet unsteadily and peered into the golden tray.
“Here’s one from the council of Queens. They claim you are not the real Caroline, you have no divinity and to them you are just another Queen. They mean to be insulting, but I told you they grasped for too much power. It’s empty bluff. Now let me see, a few more insults from various Demons and Androids, many offerings of greetings and love. Here’s a funny one from the temple of Myron.”
“That’s enough messages for now.”
“As you wish. Now please come to the library. You will find it more to your taste.”
“You even know about my tastes? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Caroline has other tastes, but while you are in your Karen personality she wants you to spend your time in the library, so your tastes will encourage you to spend less time in the bedroom or dining room.”
“I see.”
They entered the library through a little side door. In contrast to the other rooms it was homely and modest. Gone were the bizarre carvings and decorations. A small fire burned in a hearth surrounded by comfortable armchairs in green velvet. The walls were lined with bookcases and maps. Karen looked around.
She approached the south wall and looked at a map of part of Dalerth. She turned and walked to a tall bookcase. She studied the spines of the books with a frown. Many were books of Karen or Caroline. She saw the Legend of Longmont, the Lands between Hell and Earth, The Rule of the Demon Lords. She shivered.
“What are all these books about me?”
“Only possibilities, Goddess.”
“Possibilities? This is the Fifth Book of Karen”
“plausible histories, probable futures, that sort of thing.”
“You mean fiction?”
“Nobody knows what we mean by fiction.”
Karen grabbed a book and opened it cautiously. She read a little and turned a page. She wandered to the nearest armchair by the fire and sat down.
“Oh, I’d never do that! This is all wrong.”
“Possibilities, Goddess.”
“Don’t call me Goddess. This is mad. Why these books about me?”
“Everyone has an opinion, you know.”
Karen jumped up and ran back to the bookcase, replaced the book and took out another. She removed three more, took them back to the fire and dumped them on a pink granite coffee table near the armchair. Then she began to read.
FIRST BOOK OF KAREN
Anton Kruger
Karen awoke to a rather strong rocking sensation. Possibilities thawed like blocks of ice in her mind. She gazed up at black fabric. Then she remembered the mirror mystery and her plans. Karen understood. Kruger gasped and shuddered once she came fully to life. His breathing stopped and she pushed the man’s body off her and slipped out of the bed.
Karen looked back at the four poster bed. All the woodwork was richly carved. A reddish brown fine-grained hardwood had been used, making possible skilful detail. She gazed at the head of some half reptilian creature snarling as it crawled down the post. She noticed the exact teeth and scales, so realistic. She glanced back once at the still form in the bed, then studied the design of the rug she was standing on. Semi-abstract climbing plants with simple flowers.
Karen reached out to the elaborate clothes rack and took a fluffy robe. The air in the room was chilly. She slipped it on and looked up at the stone dragons above her head. They too had been exquisitely carved. Marble an ivory yellow with age.
Karen walked across the rug and onto the polished floor of black stone. She saw a reflected pale shadow in the stone, cast from the glowing globes held in the mouths of the dragons above. She shivered. The room was warning her. She now developed a revulsion for what lay on the bed and could not turn back to look at it. Instead she wandered the room, studying the workmanship of cabinets and tables, all with designs of plants and animals. Her finger traced a perfect, curling leaf of dark wood. Then at the end of the room she found an arched doorway leading to a bathroom with an attached dressing room. Steam wafted from the bathroom where a full tub waited for her.
Karen found an ornate toilet, which she used before slipping into the bath. She caught a glimpse of her face in the mirror.
Carved fish decorated the ceiling of the bathroom. Karen gazed at them as she floated. Her mind searched absently for something, something that she had forgotten. She glanced at the bar of soap in her hand. Even this was carved with patterns of fern leaves.
“A thousand lives now pass unseen
so welcome to my mirror dream
welcome to my mirror dream.”
Karen’s voice rang out clear, bouncing off the green reptilian tiles. The melody was haunting, the lyric came to her without any thought. She gazed blankly for a while and then sang again, enjoying the crystal timbre of her reflected voice. She wondered where she had heard the song before.
Later, out of the bath and drying her shoulder-length brown hair, she spoke to her image in the mirror, explaining how she was the real Karen. Then she frowned, puzzled, and marched into the dressing room, thoughts of feeding horses suddenly welling up in her mind.
Well, that was odd. She looked through the massive wardrobe. Styles and colours without end. She searched for a while, felt the urgency of passing time, and grabbed a long black dress with a lace decoration at the throat and sleeves.
When she was ready Karen left the bathroom and strode back into the huge bedroom.
“A thousand lives now pass unseen
so welcome to my mirror dream
welcome to…..”
Double doors opened. An elderly man wearing a curious kind of uniform entered, hailed her as his Goddess, and genuflected deeply. For a while Karen just stared at him and nobody moved.
“Did you say Goddess?”
“Correct, O Karen. I am your high priest and I have waited all my life for this moment of your divine awakening. All of Dalerth has waited the centuries of your sleeping, waited for this moment, perfect Karen.”
“Dalerth?”
“Yes, O divine one. The planet Dalerth. You are our Goddess.”
“I should be feeding the horses! I’ll be late for work!” She burst out suddenly.
“The waking Karen Goddess is expected to have some confusion. Now you must be hungry. Your breakfast is waiting.”
Karen did not respond for some time. Her mind spun. Dalerth? It rang a bell. Where did she know that name from? What was all this Goddess nonsense? A collection of different ideas and impressions since waking flashed through her consciousness. In one way she was only just waking up now. She opened her mouth. No words emerged. She stared at the old man with his funny little hat.
“O Karen---,”
“SILENCE! Now get down! Right on the floor!” She shouted suddenly, “If I am the Goddess you must obey.”
With a stifled cry of perhaps joy the old man obeyed. Karen walked around him in a circle, re-appraising the room with swift glances.
“Now on your feet, old man. Quickly! I am your Goddess. Where is my breakfast? I’m famished.”
“This way, O Divine, through this door.” The High Priest scuttled like some kind of bug.
Karen snorted when she found the silver place setting on the fine table of dark polished wood. “Oh, what’s this? Do you think I’m just a Queen or something?”
“We beg your apology, Goddess, but you are known to have simple tastes.”
“Am I? Well all you think you know about me might be wrong. I’m not confused about me, but my mind is foggy about Dalerth and the local situation. So you fill me in while I eat. All the vital information, mind you. I’m listening like a hawk. Don’t forget anything important that I need to know, I hold the power of life and death in this silly world.”
KAREN RECONSIDERS
Karen stopped reading and exhaled with emotion. She was staring at the crackling flames in the fireplace of her cosy library. Something was very wrong here. “But I’m not like that,” she whispered.
“Pardon, Karen?”
“How many books like this?” she gestured to the stack on the coffee table.
“Several hundred I would say.”
“Several hundred??”
“Well, only the most advanced scribes can write a book of Karen or Caroline.”
“What’s the point of all this warped fiction?”
“To worship you.”
“Well it’s all crazy. It’s been blown out of proportion.”
“You used to go out for coffee with a megalomaniac, in your own reality.”
“Tell me something, are you in all the hundreds of books?”
“In this kind starting with the waking of Karen there is always one High Priest to meet you first, then you see the First Scribe of Karen’s temple. This old man only gets a few books at being the High Priest –it’s a popular role. Why don’t you storm into the Congregation of Queens and have a few beheadings? There’s a new Queen Honey stirring things up, and a few other old bitches who are somehow still on the board.”
“Now you’re making this sound like a game. This is just some kind of stage set. How did I get into that bed? Who dragged me into this?”
“Thratacs,” mumbled the farmer, “What a divine behind.”
Karen slammed shut the book. “Do you know all my conversations in the hundreds like that?”
“Thousands, actually. Well, the High Priest spends most of his life studying the Sacred books of his religion. You chanced to get an old man, and he’s just like one of those annoying old Pastors who can quote the bible endlessly. That was the singular history of my world in the Twelfth book of Karen. Every Child on Dalerth knows the story of how Farmer Ham saw your twenty foot image stumble right into planet Dalerth reality and order a Pizza on a hand-held communicator you call a phone. It was during a party. Your costume was utterly shocking to this simple soul and he was never the same. About two hundred years later you appeared on a horse. Riding on the top of the huge beast. On Dalerth this is known to be an extinct or indeed mythical animal. The closest we ever get is a stuffed zebra in the Zoology Museum of Peshoria. Your divine reputation grew. During these transitions into our world you were usually of gigantic proportions and with casual skill doing something previously considered impossible.”
“An a humble man I always been. No mind fr religion or whatnot. No spooky stuff ‘o the mind. Thratacts below it be an average year for the gold nuggets I be raking from the sour Dalerth an all cause I can’t step in no jet liner again. A simple Dalerth soul be I but I met me this Goddess twice.”
“Word perfect,” said Karen, closing the book, “That’s impressive. Now do I wake up back on real Earth in any of these stories?”
“Well, not in these ones on Dalerth, and it is a “Karen wakes on Dalerth” story.”
“Tell me something, If I am a Goddess then where are my special powers? Why can’t I just wake up on Earth and try to forget?”
“That would end a story after the first chapter.”
“So I don’t have time to read it. The horses are hungry.”
“As you wish, Goddess. I will call for the scribe, then you will have your wish. It will be written into the book.”
Then Karen woke from a drugged sleep, recalling a vivid dream.
THE END