COSMIC TALES 6: TRAGEDY
By
Richard C. Parr
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PUBLISHED BY
Cosmic Tales 6: Tragedy
Copyright (C) 2015 by Richard C. Parr
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This story in the series Cosmic Tales is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, then please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting and supporting the author's work.
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Tragedy
For thousands of years the Republic of Gyros had been the epicentre of democracy, theatre, mythology and philosophy. It had given birth to numerous memorable historical figures and contributors to society who, over the span of millennia, had cemented themselves permanently as the founding fathers of modern developed ideologies. The likes of Platonium and Socratophocles were renowned galaxy wide and held in high esteem by academics and intellectuals. The mere mention of the name Hippostotle could elevate a conversation to a greater level of sophistication.
However, after years of spendthrift mayhem, shunning of paying taxes and free love with money, Gyros was facing the unthinkable. How could the country that founded modern culture and depth of thought find itself in financial ruin? What had happened to the prosperity and prowess of a much revered and respected land?
The first thing Elwood noticed when he disembarked the Chromium Bullet was a notable absence of daily life. Where were all the people? Why were the shops closed? Where were the vehicles, the street sellers and the market stalls?
A supernatural mist enveloped the capital and 234 scanned its hard drive.
"Sir, according to the information I have, the country is close to death. Fiscal matters of an astronomical scale have rendered Gyros immobilised. It cannot take any more austerity. At this stage, death is inevitable."
"But Gyros cannot die," said Elwood. "A country cannot just cease to exist. It has roads, ports, hospitals, railways, bars, industries of every necessity."
"Sir, these are the facts. Sadly Gyros has deteriorated over time. My hard drive knows of a famous Gyrosian located close to here. Perhaps he can explain to us what is happening."
"234, I came here for the sun and the sandy beaches. Like most Brits I did not come to learn about the culture, to integrate or to think."
"It would be best for us to seek the expert, sir. You remember how Captain Wingclipper met the King and Queen of Fanjiboo, held their newborn son aloft and slapped the baby around the face, all because he had been misinformed in thinking it was a custom?"
"Ah, you're right. That was awful. We had better find this expert before we offend someone."
Further along the streets of the capital, Elwood and 234 came to a site that had been left vacant for a considerable time. 234 checked its hard drive and said, "According to...information, the philosopher Platonium's home was right here. He lived there for 25 years."
"Wow," said Elwood. "I wonder why the authorities decided to knock down a fine piece of history?"
"The information says a physical house never stood, but Platonium would sleep and sit here. Apparently to him home was just an abstract concept of a vague unexplored idea. There are 544 additional footnotes on the question of what home really is. Should I go into greater detail?"
"No, don't bother. Hey, who's the man in the toga?"
They wandered over to a man at an ice-cream stand. A sign above it read, 'GET THE REAL GYROS EXPERIENCE!'
"What's this real Gyros experience?" said Elwood.
"It's when you are surrounded by scam beggars and charged triple the price on everything for not being a local. Nice to meet you. My name is Andreas Anagramakis. I am an expert in Gyros history. My ice-cream stand has been here for several generations."
"In the middle of the road?"
"Let's not get into local politics and planning permission. You look like you're in need of help, robot and...partially developed human adult male."
"I'm Elwood, this is 234. I presume from the toga that you're either a bed sheet advertiser, a half-hearted nudist or you woke up in a hotel, used the curtains as a towel, opened the window and fell out."
"To be honest it's a mixture of nostalgia and bankruptcy. More people are dressing like this since the collapse of the economy. We can't afford clothes but our rooms are always bright."
"Gyrosian, we are semi-conscious tourists vulnerable to exploitation," said 234. "We require a guided tour from a safe and reliable individual."
"Then I'd better call one," said the man. "Only joking! Sadly I am Gyrosian so I am largely corrupt and self-pitying, but I am just the person you are looking for. That's if you are looking for a person with a soul and not a Gyrosian politician. How about a ride in my car?"
"We'll walk," said Elwood.
"Very wise choice. I have a criminal record. Let's walk instead."
The group moved on to a previously busy and popular part of the city where a picturesque monumental building stood in the distance.
"The Gyrosian parliament," said Andreas. "The home of democracy and corruption. Gyros was founded on these principles. We invented them and gave them to the galaxy. Next door we have the oldest open air theatre that gave birth to tragedies. Guns 'n' Roses played there once. Also incestual dramas inspired by the millions of pink skinned northern tourists like you. The two stand side by side to remind us of our principles. A politician could finish work and spend all the public money next door watching a show. What a sight this place was before everything turned sour. Before paper money and honesty."
Elwood fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a local currency note. Andreas snatched it, causing Elwood to try and nab it back.
"Don't worry. I will return it. In smaller change. Only joking! But really I want to express a point. From this note, I can tell by seeing the silver ribbon, coloured backing, serial number and emblem of Gyros that this is a magnificent specimen. Of a forgery. Anyway, look at the face on the front. What do you see?"
Elwood shrugged his shoulders while 234 enhanced its vision.
"Sir, I can only see a zombified mechatronic man beater."
"Right," said Andreas. "This is Chancellor Merkill, our new supreme leader. And when you hold the note against the light, you can see her change shape."
"Wow, a reptilian," said Elwood. "Someone's written in Gyrosian on the reverse. What does it say?"
Andreas flipped the note and scanned his eyes in deep analysis. "Oh. Some student has written song lyrics. Come, let us go to a new area."
The three ventured on and scaled a small mountain located in the centre of the capital, trudging up stone steps past battered monuments, statues and temples.
"Travellers, this is the old section of Gyros called the...Ah Crap Police. Used to be filled with criminals and worshippers. You can see the Temple of King God, the Temple of Queen God, Temple of Messenger God, Temple of Strong Man God, and the Temple of Oh God. Oh, oh...oh! Sorry, had to get that out of my system. Deeply devout, you see. We Gyrosians had a place of worship for pretty much anything we revered, in the same way that now people go to coffee shops, fast food restaurants and clothing stores religiously. Tall skinny vanilla latté?"
The group stood in silence admiring the scene.
"I was speaking to you, earth human. I forgot your name."