[ News ] [ Magazines ] [ Books ] [ Silver Age Bookshop ] [ Authors ] [ Entertainment ] [ Characters ] [ Info and Links ]

The First Sally of Klothe and Melenkius; or, How Things Came to Be by William Higman

[ Up ]

One fine afternoon Klothe and Melenkius were taking a pleasant stroll in their gardens, attended by their various assistants, who were robotic and cybernetic, all amply kinetic, yet for the moment what the two constructors desired was a little peace, so for their assistants, both robotic and cybernetic, they set a series of tasks, and sent them away.

So did the two friends come to be sitting together beneath the spreading branches of a beautiful maple tree, discussing such topics as the meaning of the meaning of life and the existence of creatures whose three-dimensional characteristics could only be measured with imaginary numbers. As to the first, they concluded the discussion by sharing a fine white wine which had beer brought along, and as to the second, the general consensus was that such a being would be unimaginable, undesirable and altogether unreliable.

An unfortunate consequence of their engrossing conversation was that both Klothe and Melenkius failed to perceive the approach from afar of a gentleman clad all in black, from head to toe, a man surly of countenance and enshrouded in arrogance. Thus the two of them were dealt a mighty fright when he dealt them his hallo, all the more so as of yet the constructors had been unreservedly ignorant of any conscious creatures save themselves (unless one counted here their assistants robotic or cybernetic, which neither Klothe nor Melenkius were wont to do, despite all appearances kinetic).

“Hallo,” bellowed the man, in a voice that called forth Iightning and loud thunder and rent nations asunder. Klothe and Melenkius made an effort to leap to their feet, but as both wore long robes of copious cloth, fortune went not their way. The constructors fell in an unruly heap at the newcomer’s feet.

“Good afternoon,” answered Klothe from beneath the glucose-heavy posterior of Melenkius.

“A fine day, is it not?” replied Melenkius from beneath the blubber­-lined legs of Klothe.

“I am pleased to have finally caught up with you,” said their new acquaintance, “as I have searched far and wide, through the seven helix galaxies of the Mobanial Super-Cluster, through the inner dimensions of the Northern Systems of Problematic Existence and even through the nineteenth, and greatest, abyss of the discernible and incredible Constellation of Inevitable Matriarchy, in order to demand the services of Klothe and Melenkius, the most famous and celebrated constructors of any of the ninety-three universes!

After managing to suppress his considerable astonishment, Melenkius made to reply, “This is unusual news to us indeed, as not only were we of the opinion that we laboured alone in the universe, But also the two of us had long ago agreed that any party who should decide to ‘demand’ our services would immediately be ejected from our demesnes.”

However, he had not the opportunity, as upon the close of the description of his travails the surly fellow had summoned a horde of servants - servants neither robotic nor cybernetic but instead simply mechanic - by whom the two constructors were borne to a dark and evil-looking spacecraft.

Soon their unwelcome employer entered the craft carrying a number of the constructors’ tools, which he set down in a corner. Then he checked the ropes that bound Klothe and Melenkius before settling in his pilot’s seat and flying the spacecraft to an uncharted region or the universe, a region murky and malicious, and decidedly non-fictitious.

Klothe and Melenkius were doing their utmost to escape from the bonds when their captor spun his chair around to face them. “Gentlemen," he began, “doubtless the two of you think me a fiend both egregious and injurious, and as to that I may make no argument. I, gentlemen, am Sir Lucien de Fer, esteemed throughout the continua, and though it pains me to say it, l am in dire need of your aid.”

He pushed open a curtain which revealed a small window set into the hull of the craft. The two constructors craned their necks in order to view this part of the galaxy, yet their only reward was the sight of the blackest of black space, the least attractive of unattractive intractable tracts of matterless voids. “I need you, gentlemen, to fill this space for me with a planet.”

“A planet?” questioned the two constructors in unison.

‘Yes, in all truth, a planet. This nothingness, of space presents an affront to my aesthetic sensibilities - I‘m sure that you may appreciate my concerns in this regard. So I wish to cause the construction of a planet to displace this infernal emptiness, a planet all ethical and incredible, of a quality quite indelible, with roots mathematical and melodical and truly, highly laudable!”

“Hmm... problematical. And,” said Melenkius concernedly, “if we should choose that this venture is not for us, what should I expect to be your reaction?”

“You should expect, at the very least, to find your limbs ripped from your torso, your heads boiled in a vat of sour milk and the hairs on your chests plucked out one by one. I hope that should suffice to procure your co-operation.” And he looked from one of the constructors to the other, and from the other to the one, and he discerned no dissension. So Sir Lucien handed the tools over, and left Klothe and Melenkius to their labours.

This left the pixilated pair in something of a precarious position, for though well could they appreciate Sir Lucien de Fer’s desire to fill the blood-curdling, soul-shattering emptiness, they could not allow them­selves to be bullied by such a scoundrel. Therefore they took their tools in hand and set to work upon a planet. Yet it was not a planet all ethical and incredible, nor of a quality quite incredible, with roots mathematical and melodical and truly, highly laudable, but instead it was a world of ethics all unethical, and a reality all too credible, of a quality far too flexible, with roots non-mathematical and a-melodical and truly, highly laughable.

When presented with this work, Sir Lucien de Fer was at first pleasantly pleased and momentarily appeased, so he allowed Klothe and Melenkius to return to their demesnes in peace. Shortly, however, the failings of his planet became all too apparent, and so he sought to wreak his revenge upon the two constructors. But a lesson had been learnt, and upon their return Melenkius and Klothe had constructed a ground defence, all ineffable and methodical, which prevented the scoundrel from reaching them once more. So Sir Lucien de Fer returned to his planet, which he named Earth, and proceeded to spend upon it his terrible wrath.

And that, I am told, is how things came to be.