The Trigyalon Complex, R.K. Galvez [classic books for 11 year olds txt] 📗

1. The Astral Speed Setter

The office was dull. It had no character. That was what made it look totally false. It was too clean to be a real office. It seemed as if it was there for decoration: a simple wooden table had been placed in the corner next to the boarded up window. That was it. No computer, no telephone, not even a filing cabinet. There was a single plastic chair. It had no cushion, or any sign that a living thing had ever sat upon it. It was merely there because offices had chairs. The strange thing about this office was that it was meant to be the Earth headquarters for the Trans-Dimensional Mutant Police.

The office had some mysterious atmosphere surrounding it. Some called it Demon-Tec. Other realms within Earth's dimensional zone called it different things. It was part of the C.O.G. department: a secretive organization that maintained all power - despite the appearance of many forms of anti-state anarchy – and assumed total control of the dimensional realities created by other universes. This organization was the vital one that made these realities fit together, no matter what catastrophes occurred.

The C.O.G. remained linked by various organizations around the world--thanks to the apparently abandoned MKULTRA operation(s). They even knew certain banal pop-puppet-poppet-stars, had purchased automobiles for friends. They knew before the fans. They had access to everything. Yes, apparently, being everywhere was handy and that was why C.O.G. rule was better than any other government, or department.

That was only one minor example of the C.O.G. power; the office on Earth, in our current dimension (known as BS99669X), was symbolic in putting on a public front to dimensional hooligans and universal wasters of time. These dimension time-bending ways were confusing new generations of humans and this repetition of history should not be tolerated for too long. An agent was needed to do the necessary bureaucratic checks within the office. It was a dull job, not for a faint-heart or a trigger happy kill-crazy evo-muto. Trogger was the first agent to be put on the case.

Trogger was a strange case. Originally from Peetanio, a rim-muto city in the Seven Hells, recently twinned with Dalston, and in a dimension known as XR709M(part of the Giggle Factor Bullshit Overload). It sounds more technical than what it really stands for, but these codenames are as necessary as arterial road names. As you know, with astral-pzioniks, not everything can be just simply reduced to the matter of empirical geography. We really are one, in all our worlds and realm-spaces the human form manifests. 

I should add, being a vapour-wraith, the heads, or Joint Chiefs, of the C.O.G. were demons known as Goodmann and Goodnow. They were not happy bunnies. They had been resurrected too many times to care and they wanted to make sure order was maintained by those dimensional shirkers who didn't seem to give time to the fact that Time itself had its own destiny.

Trogger, like me, wasn't too interested in the varied philosophical questions this posed. Trogger just wanted to get out of Peetanio. It wasn't the best place and Trogger had been condemned to death more than once. Being Trogger, he was half-caveman, half-zombie: Trogger was pretty much invincible. Better than his cousin, Gili from The Road of Glory. It qualified him for this kind of work. They probably should have given Trogger another punishment.

Trogger had a C.O.G. blood-gun. Of course, he was also getting it out a lot and shooting his load everywhere. Blood, being liquid, can be made to travel back to you, into the gun, as you might expect. You never run out of ammo with a blood-gun, so you're always ready to go. This futuristic implant was the bane of the agency. And Trogger's hot temper meant he had wiped out a couple of sub-worlds in various minor dimensions. It was only notable in dimension TX89HK, which was situated near Romford. A real shame that one, it was usually avoided.

The dialogue has not happened as Trogger doesn't really speak English. Trogger rarely speaks. Trogger just grunts, occasionally howling. He does have some telepathic abilities which was how Goodmann and Goodnow always passed orders to him. They also gave him headaches, only Norkgrub was able to take these away with visits to apothecary colony known as Det 2962-560. Professor Norkgrub told me those demons were responsible for controlling Trogger. Who knows? It was all speculation. And Norkgrub was a well- known agency gossip. It was very easy to criticize from the cosy confines of the C.O.G. Research and Development department. It looked like another notorious sinecure, of course.

Trogger wanted to see Norkgrub again. He had to get out of this office and get a feel of the world, he needed to locate the errant Professor. It didn't take him long to get another case in his mind. Trogger grunted, he needed back-up. He needed to get his driver back from the Bermuda Triangle. Trogger suddenly looked up, his zombie reactions keen to sense life. Jack Slack entered the office. He was covered in blood and sweat. He looked like he was mutating: his skin and bone were merging, bubbling, decomposing. Jack Slack was a man made of liquid blood and bone; his facial features faded... 

Trogger noticed purple alien ejaculate was coming out of his nose, causing tiny pustules emerging from his skin to suddenly burst everywhere, leaving splashes of purple pus everywhere. Trogger pressed the crystal key button for the cleaners. They would turn up later; they always had to clean up. Trogger laughed at Jack. Jack stared at Trogger, lost for words. Jack was getting pus-jacked. The first mutated step towards a twisted form of immortality.

"What's happening to me?" Jack Slack mumbled.

Trogger laughed again. He grunted. Then, after a brief pause, he belched:

"UGGGH!"

That was very loud; Jack felt his life-essence throb as Trogger’s vast belch passed through him.

"I just walked through the door, I was meant to have an appointment here with Professor Norkgrub. I'm freelance, I don't know what's going on", cried Jack. He had a mouthful of blood mixing with the purple pus.

Jack Slack continued to cry, spraying vile fluids everywhere, as more giant pustules deposited purple pus everywhere. Trogger licked the pus, smiling. He didn't think it was too bad. Jack figured he had been poisoned, duped and trapped by the enigmatic Professor Norkgrub; but he had many vices which may have explained current state. Trogger examined Jack Slack. He wasn't used to seeing humans – well, just Homo sapiens, of course.

2. Tempos Dos Lesbos

Jack thought of his past life, as he dissolved into more gigantic pustules. He looked around, his eyes boiling away. And he thought of his ex-wife, Freya. Freya was a strange elfin lady, with long black hair and pale skin. Sometimes, if you looked at her hard enough, she looked dead. Jack always wondered if she was attracted to his own empathy with death. Jack already had that mutated gift.

Jack and Freya's strange prodigal child, Elisedee, also had strange gifts. Jack caught glimpses of her future: he saw her on Zion Base23132 and realized she would help many realms of alien and human biological entities. They did not think her weird name had made her a genius, though. Weird names don't always do that, do they? Elisedee was in a bright child development programme on a boarding school in Nepal. She was protected by scientists and frequently out-witted them, despite only being a ten year-old girl.

Jack then realized he had treated Freya badly. He had wanted to make amends. He was sure Elisedee would land on her feet. He didn' t even need to talk to her; she would use her mind to communicate with him. He was grateful for this and she had already known it was Freya's idea to insulate her with a strange scientific sect. It was what Freya liked. She had always wanted to be a child prodigy. She had spent lots of time listening to Prodigal recordings.

Freya did not tell Jack she was involved in other things than the pedestrian librarian business. Jack met her when he was still waiting for his license to arrive in the post. Anyone could apply to be C.O.G. investigator; it was easy. Freya had been an librarian, specializing in the occult. Times were always tough for esoteric individuals inclined towards the occult.

Jack had been a total Junglist; he had always preferred Jung and had developed his own natty ideas while on sabbatical in the Congo (Like his ancestor, Kane, the rivers of Congo always haunted him…He always needed to ride more grooves…). Freya found Jack very full-on and a bit odd, and hoped he would slip on a matt one day…

Freya also had a tattoo above her pubis with the initials B.D.B. Jack had no idea what this meant or who it was referring too…It made him insecure and he would do wild things for no apparent reason. Freya had said she wanted him to be a “mad bastard”…Jack liked fish with his chips. Jack never really understood Freya...Apparently, she liked murky merkins…Freya was also happy with her hardened core-soul...She always liked a gooey pie with her fish and chips…

On their first date she had spiked Jack's drink with a strange substance called G.H.B., which, to my surprise, isn't classed as a new genetically modified health food. Jack wanted it re-classified and legalized right away. It made him feel great...

It sounds like G.B.H, and Jack foolishly researched the wrong path; Jack had researched the classic TV series G.B.H. for a long time - even becoming a minor academic for an online university based in Bogota - only to find out what the link was...He had a partial bone for Mister Lindsay...Sadly Jack was wrong again; academic disciplines had never been his strong point[his forte should have been girly trope heavyChick-Lit, or now fashionable Clit-Lit...].Of course, Jack had never passed an exam in his life, so he had no GCSEs or any other qualifications.

Jack bought all his qualifications on the cheap a long time ago - from an online university based in Bogota - when the colonies were new and the world was still young. He was a hopeless P.I., of course. The kind of investigator that stands out in brightly coloured felt hats and skin tight trouser-suits. He then decided to watch a lot of episodes of the hit series, Monkey. He always laughed how the Japanese had adapted Journey to the West. It was never going to help him in the short-term, but Jack had been caught off-guard and was able to sing along to the theme tune.

Freya noticed Jack’s prominent erection during the theme to Monkey. She decided to take Jack to random places, before ending up at a strange public house in Ye-Olde-Kilburne. It was a Good Ship, apparently. It was there that Freya had introduced him to her ex-girlfriend, Titi Titbull (step-daughter of Jack’s old teacher, Miss Combtitt…What are chances of that happening eh?...)…

…Titi was a strange conceptual artist-child, who did not know how to do anything artistic, so she would keep killing herself and devise different ways to bring herself back to life. She was more into the penetrative aspects of art. The conversation died; it was awkward. They all decided to keep drinking in silence: it’s the British way after all…Titi secretly wanted Jack to get her pregnant in continuous eighteen month cycles, so she could then use this biological struggle as real-life based material for her new stand-up routine...[tour coming soon; watch the spaces...]...That would really make the middle-classes smugly chuckle away...Have a load of kids then moan about them in front of a paying audience...Genius scam-art, Titi thought to herself, imagining all the stages of her dire act...She would eventually hypnotize the world, of course; she could always say the middle