Chapter Twelve

Simon Marston was born in Gelligaer Hospital, in South Wales, to a Welsh mother and an English father who had been born in Karachi. Simon’s grandmother was an Indian Moslem who, after independence from the British, became a Pakistani citizen. An elegant woman of exceptional beauty her good looks, and dark skin, skipped a generation and passes to her grandson, …

Meeting Kavoosi

John Conway walked the dusty halls of the government building on el-Sharab in old Tehran – his feet falling silently on the old Persian pile that stretched endlessly down the high corridors. After fifty or so metres a turbaned man appeared at his approach, waited, then turned so John might follow through double doors to another corridor, with even thicker …

John In Tehran

“There’s a walk I used to take in spring, up a mountain track b’side the river running full with the melt from the mountains. Donkeys were available if you were unable, or too lazy, to walk.” John Conway looked over at this companion who showed no reaction but continued to stare into the square filled with pedestrians and cycling traders. …

Restless Change

The Old Ones Talking The Old Ones were restless. There had been a shift. Changes were coming. The Heiress was beginning to understand; they could help her now and there was hope that she could be a powerful leader. There was hope she could be more powerful than Catherine. First she had to find her way around some immediate obstructions, …

Flower Walk – Chatting in the Park

Commander Conway relaxed against the park bench on Flower Walk and lowered his eyes to study the shoes and trouser legs as they passed. There were more flats than heels on the women and the male black oxfords and ox blood brogues had, for the most part, been replaced by loafers and thick-soled sneakers. The pigeons looked the same, as …

Peter Learning Underground

Yesterday he learned how the Ancients brought light underground. Today he would learn how that stone elevator worked. Tomorrow he would learn about mysteries discovered today, and the day after that he would learn about mysteries discovered the day before, and on and on and on. There would be no end because he wanted no end. She said he would …

Meira Starts to Read

Was there a better way to preserve data, text, formulae, numeric records, than in stone? She doubted it. Certainly it was unlikely in this case because she was looking at records melted into obsidian, with diagrams coloured and baked into the surface so as to form an outer, ceramic like, face only it wasn’t a frail ceramic – it was …

Meira reading Ancients’ Language

There had been no difficulty with Catherine, or Amia’s, memories beyond that of making the connections but reading their language was an entirely different experience. She recognised the characters, and she understood the words they formed, but not the meaning. The meaning was not clear from the words or the visual references. She was missing something. She was, she surmised, …

Book III – Part Two of The Gilgamesh Syndrome

Chapter Eight Meira watched the team rise from the table to saunter wearily to their beds to sleep – perchance to dream of Atlantis, of carbonated aquifers, ancient ceramic murals, solar ovens, subterranean lakes . . . or perhaps not. Perhaps their dreams were not as hers. Perhaps their minds were elsewhere. During the meeting just ended Bill had surprised …

Meira III The Gilgamesh Syndrome

Meira III has become long overdue due, in part, to distractions in world events but more so to the increasingly obvious need for radical change to the capitalist democracies predominate in first world nations. Why should that effect a work fiction? Because Meira is our paragon of common sense unhindered by preconceptions and conformity. From the time Christopher Jordan first …