The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 54: Ronald Daveu

Last week as you recall,  the Colours of Legopolis had been replaced, and the city restored to its former, non-monochromatic glory.
  But one loose end remained, Ronald Daveu, famed explorer and founder of Legopolis, who was paying a social call to Dr. Smith.
 The problem arises when we realize this man is supposedly long dead.
  And yet he drinks earl grey.
   Ron had become separated from his true time by an unlikely series of events, {See ep. 50: The Black Planet} which in the end brought him here; Dr. Smith's kitchen, eighty-five years after his death.

 "Yer house is bigger'n the inside." Ron said, quite eloquently for him.

-=fig. 362: a newly remodeled kitchen=-

Dr. Smith had noticed this.  "It is… Jeeves," He addressed his robotic manservant, Jeeves. "When did this happen?"
  "I couldn't say for sure sir.  If you recall, I was debilitated for most of our most recent adventure.  But I have taken the liberty of exploring our new abode, and as such have discovered that behind each of these three doors behind me are three further doors, the one you have just entered from {which invariably leads back here,} and two others, each of which contains another three doors, continuing the pattern.  So far we have five bathrooms, eight bedrooms, a pool, and a library.  Furthermore, it is my opinion that I have yet to explore every corner of this house's labyrinthine proportions."
   It was at that moment that the window above the center door behind Jeeves sprung open, and a skeleton jumped out.

-=fig. 363: four of the clock=-

 "Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo! " It said, before being sucked back into whatever machine it came from.
    Everyone stared at the spot where it had disappeared from for a moment.
  "That t'were disconcertin'."
    "I would have to agree with you on that point, sir."
   Dr. Smith did not share that opinion however.
       He was smiling,  A rare occurrence for him.
        "That was awesome!"  Ron and Jeeves stared at him.  "What?  A skeleton in goggles just flew out of a window in my kitchen!  And then it Cuckooed!"  Jeeves gave him a worried eye, "Very…Good.  Sir."
  Dr. Smith turned to Ron, "Mr. Daveu, if we're going to be getting you back to your home time, I need to know what year you live in. "  Mr. Ronald Daveu, famed explorer and founder of the grand city of Legopolis, was a poor and illiterate man who never learned to read or write, and was mainly concerned with getting back to his wife and their small cabin, deep in the backwoods of what would someday be Main Street Legopolis.
 "I dunno." Said Ron.
   "You Don't know what year it was?"
     "Nope."
  Dr. Smith could tell this was going to be tricky.  Ron Didn't know what year it was when he got left, neither did Dr. Smith.   He couldn't think.
  "Mr. Daveu, you have waited nine years to return home,  you are going to be waiting a bit longer.  This tar is beginning to harden into my clothes and soon I won't be able to move at all."  It was true, He was caked in black, gooey tar.  Ron smelled worse, however.
  "And look at you, you must want a bath…or two.  Jeeves here seems to know where the bathrooms are."   Dr. Smith Turned on his heel, and set off for the yellow door.  There were three doors, a yellow one, a red one, and a blue one.  Before he reached it though, he was stopped By Jeeves.
 "Sir, Take this."
  "What is it?"
   "A Sandwich."
     "Oh."
      "And this is a map I have taken the liberty of drawing up.  It details as far as I have explored, be sure to add your findings to it.  Take good care of it.  The sandwich is for your journey, you may eat it."
         "What would I do without you Jeeves?"
           "You would die, Sir. At the hands of an evil Romanian or the tar of his planet, or you would trip and fall, cracking your head open like a watermelon."
              "Very true Jeeves.  This everything?"
                 "Yes."
  Dr. Smith opened the yellow door, walked through and closed it behind him.  He was then faced with a choice, Yellow or blue?  He was in a small room, with no windows or furniture. Before deciding, he turned around to face the door he had just come through.  From this side, it was red.  He chose the second yellow door.
   This room was resplendent in red, with luxurious velvet draperies, and a view of the ocean.   Which didn't add up because Dr. Smith's house was nowhere near the ocean.  It was near a cliff.  And yet there the ocean was.  This room is what a real-estate professional would call a 'suite', and suites always have bathrooms.  So Dr. Smith looked around for one.  He found the yellow door first, and opened it.  It was an incredibly fancy bathroom, with dozens of shiny knobs, a porcelain tub, and three sinks.  Why anyone would need three sinks escaped Dr. Smith,  but they were there.  There was also a  small cupboard filled with fluffy white towels, and one laundry chute.
 Dr. Smith opened the laundry chute and looked down it.   It was dark, and seemingly never-ending.  It also sucked gently, as if powered by a vacuum.   Dr. Smith threw his clothes down, and they were whisked away.
  He then discovered that there were knobs over the tub for hot water, cold water, lukewarm water, green water, purple water and bubble bath.
    There was also, next to the tub on a little shelf, a small yellow rubber zombie. Which squeaked when you squeezed it.  Dr. Smith thought this was hilarious.

-=-

 When Finished with his shower Dr. Smith walked out to the main room of the suite.  His clothes were laid out, folded, and pressed, on the bed.

 He put them on and opened the other door.  The blue one.

-=fig. 364: the worlds best closet=-

It was a closet devoted entirely to hats.
  Or to be specific, one hat.  Dr. Smith's prize winning fedora, dozens of them.  All identical.  Dr. Smith carefully grabbed one, and looked it over.
  It was perfect.
     He tried it on,
        It fit.   It was as clean as a new hat and as comfortable as an old one.
 Dr. Smith smiled. 

-=-

 He walked across his new room, and was met with the door he had come through to get here.
   It was somehow more luxurious from this side.  And again, it was red.   The redness was a navigational aid, if ever you got lost all you would have to do is keep taking the red door until you were back in the kitchen.  The kitchen seems to be the hub of this maze.   When back in the kitchen Dr. Smith took a look around,  there was Jeeves, serving a stranger a cup of Earl Grey tea,  there was the skeleton at the dinner table, there was the–Wait, who was Jeeves serving a cup of tea to?   Dr. Smith looked closer.

-=fig. 365: earl grey=-

No it was Ron.   Dr. Smith hadn't registered him when he walked in the room because the Man didn't look like Ron.  For one thing, his skin was a different color.  And for another, the only overpowering smell in the room was that of lilacs.  Lilacs are always a non sequitur.  
  "Jeeves, Why does it smell like flowers in here?"
     "It was the strongest soap I could find, Sir.  And Mr. Daveu here does not believe in baths."
      "The smell keeps them invisible flesh-eatin' demons away."
 Dr. Smith nodded, this was a common back-country belief.
   "Daveu, you are a fairly important figure.  You don't know it yet, but you are.  That means that when you went missing someone was bound to have noticed."
     "I assume me wife would'a noticed."
       "Right, and she would have sent someone to look."
         "There's a problem with yer thinkin'.  There ain't nobody there for 'er to send."
          "No other people at all?"
            "No."
              "Okay, so our cutoff point's 1893.  That's when the first settlers came.  Anytime behind then is irrelevant.  How many winters had you and your wife been married?"  Ron held up three fingers.  "Okay, that should be all the information I need.  Jeeves, do we have a records room?"
  "To be honest Sir, I just got here myself."
    "So what you're saying is that you don't know."
      "Correct, Sir."
        "But the house will acommodate to our needs, right?"
          "Ah, I see Sir.  It is 'Worth A Try' "
Dr. Smith cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled up to where a ceiling should be: "ATTENTION HOUSE, I NEED A COMPLETE RECORD OF THE HISTORY OF LEGOPOLIS…PLEASE. "  The Please was added as an after thought, on the Silent suggestion of Jeeves.
  Almost immediately there was a low rumble, like something big and heavy being slid into position.
   The rumbling stopped.
     The Macabre Cuckoo sounded off five times, then retreated for another hour.
  A small white light above the center of the three doors lit up, indicating that the red door had suddenly become important.
  Dr. Smith looked quickly at Jeeves, who shrugged.  He then walked over to the door.
    It was a room of records; books, papers, clippings of newsprint and handwritten notes highly organized and tightly packed on floor-to-ceiling shelves.   The room itself wasn't very big, just a couple of yards square, but it was incredibly tall, so tall Dr. Smith couldn't see the ceiling. There was a ladder on rollers provided,  and every 10 feet or so there was a railed landing.
  Dr. Smith was struck dumb.
    For a moment.  The information he needed was about the very beginning of Legopolis,  so it stood to reason it would be on the very first few shelves.
   He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he found it in the diary of one Lisa O'Callaghan.  The name gave him pause, because Lisa O'Callaghan was his mothers name.  But his mother had been named after some distant ancestor, perhaps this was that selfsame one.  He flipped through most of it, until he came to this entry:
  "  April 12, 1890. 
         Dear Diary, Ron went off hunting three days ago, he has yet to return.  I fear something dreadful has befallen him, but I shan't worry for he has been gone off longer than this before.  Oh how I do hope he comes back …" It was at this point where Dr. Smith's eyes glazed over.  It had turned into some mushy girl stuff, with the words that jumped out being "love"  "draperies"  and the all-time favorite, "I fear if he doesn't come back soon I shall have to chop the wood myself as the fire is dying and it is getting cold. If the fire goes out the wolves will be at the door!"  Dr. Smith skipped forward a couple of days, and Ron still wasn't back.  He skipped forward a couple of months, nothing.   It was then when he decided that April 12th, 1890 was the day Ron had fallen into the black planet.
  With his date set, he returned to the kitchen.
    "Ron!  I have found the day you left and I'll be ready to go in a minute."
      "How'd ya find the day?"
        "I found your wife's diary.  How come she didn't change her name to Daveu?"
            "I honestly don' know.  Something about her obscenely rich family not lettin' her."
  Dr. Smith took the remark about her family being obscenely rich with a grain of salt, because Ron had never seen more than about ten dollars at a time, which admittedly in 1890 was a huge sum.
   "HOUSE?  I NEED A DOOR TO THE GARAGE…PLEASE."
 The light above the red door lit up.
"Thanks house.  Alright Daveu,  follow me."  They arrived at a brightly lit platform high above a field of flowers.

-=fig. 366: the time machine=-

"It don' look like much."
  "Yes, well.  Neither do you."
   "Sir, I would like to come."
     "No Jeeves."
       "Sir, my prime imperative is to keep you alive, to protect you from dangerous things like wormholes and rugs. And I can't protect you if you're eighty years in the past."
          "Jeeves you found me on a different planet, I don't think eighty years will make much difference.  If you're really worried ask the house for a time machine and follow me.  See you in a minute."   Dr. Smith climbed into the cockpit, Ron crawled into the crows nest.
  Dr. Smith fired up the engine, which involved quite a bit of actual fire, and they disappeared.

-=-

   They flew over the woods, Ron pointed out his cabin and they set down.
  Ron climbed out.
    "Thanks…"
      "Dr. Smith, Dr. Zachary Smith."
       "Thanks Dr. Smith.  If'n it weren't for you, I'd still be stuck.  In that…Dark place. With the tar. So Thank you." 
  Dr. Smith nodded.  "Goodbye Ronald Daveu."  And with that he disappeared.
 Ron set off at a run, using his rifle as a walking stick.

-=fig. 367: running home=-

  He ran.
    He ran.
        He Ran.
 The branches of trees stung as they whipped him.
    He Didn't feel them.
        He ran.
 He had made it!
    He was home!
       Lisa was feet away!
  "Lisa! Lisa I'm home!"  He called.
      No one answered.
       He opened the door,
         there was no one home.
 He circled the grounds,
  and ran into a man.

In seconds the man had a rifle, fully loaded and ready, inches from his face.
 "Where's Lisa!" Demanded Ron.
    "Who?"
      "The Woman who lives here!"
       "Oh.  Her.  The Woman and th-the little boy haven't lived here for months."
The pit of Ron's stomach fell through to his feet.
  Months.
   "What little boy?"
     "Sam, I think his name was.  Could you get that gun out of my face?"
       "No.  Why did they leave?"
         "Um…a…man on a horse came by and convinced…Lisa…To go with him.  He had some kind of long, stupid name like…um… Duke Callaghan.  If you could just…not shoot me.  That would be great.  I promise, I bought this house fair and square."
  Ron put his gun away.  Duke Henry O'Callaghan was Lisa's brother.  A weasel if ever there was one.  The only place they would go would be The Big Castle in Quagmireland, Where the O'Callaghans were from.
  Dr. Smith.
He could get him there in his…doohickey.  Maybe he hadn't left!
   Ron Ran back to the field,
    Dr. Smith was gone.

"I hate them rich people."  Ron said.

-=-

  "See Jeeves, I came back.  In good time Too!"  He checked His watch,  "See I've only been gone Five minutes!"
   "A day and five minutes, Sir."

     "Well, obviously we need to work on that.  On a side note, I'm really hungry."
        "I'll fix you something to eat sir."

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 53: The Final Confrontation

Last week as you Recall,

  "YOU!" Dr. Smith said,

-=fig. 354: the next world leader=-

"Nice cape."

  "Thank you, doctor." Said Von TipRău, with no recognition of the sarcasm. "It befits ze next ruler of the Vorld, don't you think?"

    "TipRău, you'll never be the ruler of anything."

      "You are wrong, doctor, for I am ze ruler of zis vorld, zis hellish little vorld.  When I come here, zis vas de beautiful shining city on ze hill.  Now gaze upon the putrid ruins of my empire.  Bah!" He spat.

    "Von TipRău, I'm tired, hatless, homeless, and covered in tar. Now, return the colours of my people or else."

     Von TipRău glared at Dr. Smith like only an arch villain can, "Vhy? Vhat vill you do about it?"

 Dr. Smith had to admit, he was at a loss for plans.

"Now, doctor, vitness my rise to power vonce again!"

Dr. Smith was escorted quite rudely outside, Where the nefarious machinations of Von TipRău's crazed mind were waiting.

-=fig. 355: a familiar device of  diabolical purpose=-

"It's The Giant red Machine!  But it was destroyed!"
   "In Fact, it vasn't, doctor Smith.  I merely teleported you and your friends avay from it, I'm surprised you didn't notice."  Dr. Smith was about to dish out a snappy response, when a cannonball whizzed though the air, to strike the earth inches from Von TipRău. 
 "Vhat!"

-=fig. 356: the cavalry=-

It was Capt. Brown and Ron in a commandeered MMM, "James!" Shouted Dr. Smith overjoyed at his friend's return.  "Hey Zachary!  We'll be down in a minute, Ron, keep firing."  Alas, Ron, while enthusiastic, was not a very accurate shot, and many cannonballs failed to meet their mark. One of the cannonballs, by sheer dumb luck, struck Dr. Smith's guards, But before Dr. Smith could get away,  his doppelgänger, without looking, pulled a gun to his head. "Don't even think about it."  He said.  Von TipRău took the opportunity in this commotion to sneak away to the controls of the Giant red Ray machine.
  "Mwah! Ha Ha! When I flip this switch, the whole of my plans will be complete!  I shall Finally rule ze vorld!"
 Dr. Smith just looked at him, "What is your plan?  All you can do, really, is create holes in reality with that thing, dangerous, yes, but not world-domination ready material."
 "Holes? You zink holes were ze plan?  Ze Holes are a side-effect! Zis, Zis is da plan!" What that he made a sharp ninety-degree turn and fired at Capt. Brown and Ron.

-=fig. 357: over-saturation=-

Capt. Brown and Ron were instantly vaporized. "Vith such Power, your vorld vill bow unt mine vill be reborn!  I shall be the ruler of all!"Dr. Smith was shocked at the sudden death of his only friend, and Ron, his distant anscestor.  Strangely Dr. Smith hadn't died, but he hadn't time to ponder that as Von TipRău was rambling on about something.  "…And with zis machine, the tar will be fought back from it's death grip on my planet, and I'll be the ruler of something vorth ruling!"
 "Come now Von TipRău, call off your goon.  If you let me go I'll give you a fair fight."
   "Zat is exactly vhat I"m afraid of Dr. Smith, I've been in a fair fight vith you, and I lost.  No! I shall be keeping you vhere you are zank you."  Von TipRău then proceded to busy himself in the levers and switches that are required when you operate a giant multi-coloured laser.
  A soft click, like that of the firing mechanism of a small-caliber revolver being readied for action.

-=fig. 358: jeeves to the rescue=-

Dr. Smith looked over his shoulder, "Jeeves!" he said. 
"Good afternoon sir, I noticed my reinforcements hadn't turned out as I hoped so I took matters 'into my own hands,' if you will. Mr. Doppelgänger, I firmly suggest a modicum of movement if you would like to retain whatever gray-matter you have left, sir.  Also, I would recommend that for your own well-being you keep your hands where I can see them and drop your weapon, if you please."  Doppelgänger did so. "Thanks Jeeves."  Dr. Smith said, with relief, "Keep him covered."  "Very good sir."
Dr. Smith, freed of all death-related restrictions, looked around fervently.
What he was looking for was a master control panel, of which there is always at least one.  Especially in places such as this.
  He spotted it.

-=fig. 358: master control=-

He pulled as many levers as possible, but nothing happened.  Then he had an idea.  All of the colours of legopolis were stored in a glass chamber.  A glass chamber that last time he was here, was a teleporter.  Now if he could just… Ah. There it is.  L…E…G…O…P…O…

-=-

A humming started up in the background, not a tune, but more the sound a huge piece of machinery would make.  Von TipRău, preoccupied as he was with setting his giant laser to 'World Domination' didn't notice.  In fact, he was so involved that he didn't notice the brown figure sneaking up behind him.  What he did notice, though, was the sharp blow to the head.  "That's for nearly exploding me." Capt. Brown said. "Zachary! Where are you?" 

  "James?" Dr. Smith's face lit up. "You didn't die!" 

   " 'course not. Ron's O.K. too, the blast just missed us, did a number on that flying thing with the cannon though." 

     "What happened to Von TipRău?" 

      "A sudden and inexplicable sharp blow to the back of the head." Dr. Smith nodded approvingly.  "I'm surprised no monoids tried to stop me, actually."  They both looked around.  There were no monoids, anywhere. They were just gone. 

   "James.  Where did you leave TipRău?"

     "Right where he fell, the floor of the cockpit of the giant red laser." 

        "I'll give you two to one odds that his body is missing." 

  It was. 

        "We won't find any MMM's in the harbor, and I just bet he left some sort of–" at that very moment a voice came out over the loudspeaker: "THIS PLANET VILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN TWELVE MINUTES.  SO LONG, HEROES. I VILL BE BACK, COUNT ON IT. ELEVEN MINUTES."

"Hey," said Capt. Brown, "does that mean that he's still here someplace?"
  "No it's probably just a prerecorded message.  Press those, would you?"
   "All of them?"
     "All of them.  Then make sure you know where Mr. Daveu is." Over his shoulder he yelled:  "JEEVES, IS DOPPELGÄNGER STILL OUT THERE?"
      "I assume so sir, but I believe he is deceased." 
        "What makes you say that?"
          "The way he collapsed into thousands of tiny squares. Sir."
 Dr. Smith uttered a fairly strong expletive. "Well, No time to worry about that now.  Tell me when the colours powering the machine disappear."
"Very good Sir." a second later, "They're gone. Sir."
  "Good. James, Have you found Mr. Daveu?"
    "Right here with me Zachary."
      "We only have time for one shot so stand clear of wherever the machine is pointing."
  "ONE MINUTE."
"59 SECONDS"

-=fig. 359: 11 seconds=-

"Are we all ready?"
 "Well–"
   "8 SECONDS."
     "Good!  Jump through, quick."
 They jumped through, just as a world exploded.

-=fig. 360: the end of the black planet=-

Dr. Smith dusted himself off.  "well, that was certantly enthralling.  James," he turned and shook Capt. Brown's hand. "Thank you for the help. I appreciate it.  Mr. Daveu, we'll get you back to the late 1800's as soon as I get myself cleaned up, Jeeves will make you a pot of tea.  Jeeves?  Make him a pot of tea."  Nobody heard him as they were too engaged by the colours falling from the sky.  Dr. Smith noticed them, but being a scientist at heart he merely registered them as a prior mistake. "Yeah, I think I got the height wrong. James, don't let anybody handle these clolours without gloves, once they seep into the ground they should be fine, but until then they highly toxic and will over-saturate your…Can anybody hear me? "
 It really was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

-=fig. 361: like snowflakes=-

The colors tumbled through the sky like giant multi-coloured snowflakes.  Everything they touched sprang back to life, and like the first snowflakes of winter, they drew a crowd.  Everyone wanted to touch one, but Dr. Smith warned them off.  He shouldn't have bothered as the colours were only dangerous when contained in the colour-sponges the monoids brought with them.  Those sponges had burned up during teleportation, and without sponges the colours drifted freely.  Once they had dissipated Legopolis basked in its new glory for moment, then settled down.  "Well," Said Dr. Smith, "That was interesting.  Jeeves, I believe a pot of tea is in order."

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 52: Storming the Gate

Last Week As You Recall, Dr. Zachary Smith and the famed Ronald DaVeu had commandeered one of the Monoids' Marvelous Moving Machines, an MMM for short, and were now driving towards the only blinking dot on its radar.

  If they could read Monoidian then they would now that the blinking dot was in fact the home base of the Monoids, a vile place if ever there was one, but since they can't, they don't. 

-=fig. 352: the mmm=-

The only light on this long trip is provided by a selection of lanterns strung across the front of the MMM, not that it did any good on this black planet of tar.  The oppressive darkness of the planet itself sucked away the light of the lanterns, until one by one they went out.  

 "Well, Now we know why they didn't put any lights in!" Dr. Smith said in a lighthearted manner.  Attempting to brighten the overall mood of the situation.   Without any lanterns the only light now came from the horrible engines of the MMM, ferocious jets along the bottom of the machine which cast a red pallor over all.  

Ron, not being one for conversation at the best of times, said nothing.

In the distance the darkness took the shape of a castle, outlined in red as if on fire just behind the façade.  "I think I see it!" Dr. Smith said.  On the dashboard the radar blinked quicker.   As they approached the castle Dr. Smith realized that the castle was not a castle at all, but the ruins of a city, tumbled together and fused by the tar which falls from the sky.  It was a disconcerting sight to see, to say the least.

Dr. Smith negotiated the MMM expertly into the only well-lit area in sight, which turned out to be a dock, of sorts.  Not a true dock for there was no water left on this black planet, but still, a place to store an MMM. Dr. Smith tied up his machine, and took a look around.  There wasn't much to see, other machines, scattered around, tied to the pier.  All were alike, but none the same.  The one across from where Dr. Smith was standing had a giant cannon attached to the bow, another seemed to be made of bits of cars.  There were also lamp posts spread at random intervals, casting a pale glow on everything which only served to deepen the shadows.

 Dr. Smith was sneaking along the pier, quiet as a cat, a quiet cat that is, when a shot rang out from behind him followed by the tinkle of glass.  When he whirled around he saw Ron holding his gun, Old Bessie, and he saw a lamppost without any glass. 

"What did you do that for!"

  "It were spittin' bits o' fuzz at me.  Don' like them uppity lampposts."

    "Well congratulations, with all that shooting they'll be on us in less than a minute!"

A shadow detached itself from the pier behind Dr. Smith.

 "Hello…Again." It said.

Dr. Smith turned around, slowly.

 He knew who it was, too late.

"Hello again…Dopplegänger.

-=fig. 353:Doppelgänger=-

"It's good to see you again my Brother.  It has been a long time."

  "I'm not your brother.  Your mother was a cloning machine your father was a Monoid.  You're at best an abomination, and I'm not related to any abominations.  Except maybe…Aunt Agatha, but that was a accident. "

 "This has been very informative, brother,  But I'm afraid I have my orders. Monoids, take them both."

 Dozens of Monoids stepped out of the shadows, Dr. Smith, unarmed, and Ron, out of bullets, were no match for their sheer numbers.  

  It was a long walk through the makeshift fortress,  dodging hanging stalagmites of pitch, walking over precariously placed boards, and hoping that the room on the other side of this door is still there.

  Dr. Smith's Doppelgänger knocked on the crooked door twice.

    "Enter."  Said a voice from within.

"YOU!" Dr. Smith said, 

We fade to black. 

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 51: The Taking of the MMM

   Last Week As You Recall, Dr. Zachary Smith had had a run-in with death on The Black Planet, so named for it's propensity to be covered in tar.  Luckily he was rescued by the Famed Ronald DaVeu, Explorer extraordinaire, thought dead these many years, who had based himself in the top floor of a tall building, the only area in these parts not flooded with the vile tar.

  But Dr. Smith, not happy with such squalid accommodations, had conceived a plan for their escape.

"We're doin' what?" Said Ronald DaVeu,  Ron to his friends.

 "Drawing them here." Dr. Smith said, referring to The Monoids, a species of men in top hats and suits, who think as one and patrol The Black Planet for stragglers.

   And then shoot them.  Not friendly, these Monoids.

 "Why're we drawin' 'em here?"

   "For their MMM, Marvelous Monoid Mover."

     "I Don' think it's too marvelous."

       "It's going to transport us out of this gooey black prison, I call that pretty marvelous.  You with me?"

 Ron met this with a growl, albeit a consenting one.

-=-

     Dr. Smith Pushed the final glob of tar off the edge.

      They had cleared off the entire roof, mostly. 

       Dr. Smith picked a pistol from his tar-stained coat, 

        and fired once.

 

-=fig. 347: dr. smith's gun=-

"What now?" asked Ron.

 "We wait."

They did not have to wait long as the Monoids had spies everywhere.  Not human spies, of course. but tiny, robotic spies shaped like spiders who crawled over the landscape recording sound and video and then relaying it to their terrible masters.

 The MMM flew over the landscape,  it's propulsion system charring any remaining life to a crisp.  For such a terrible machine it wasn't very big, no bigger than a mid-size car.

  "I see it." Said Ron.

    "Good, prepare yourself."  Ron slunk off into the shadows.

The Monoids came in quick, guns blazing, there was the hum of a laser canon, warming up, and then the roof a foot from Dr. Smith exploded in flames.

 He didn't flinch.

  The monoids paused while their weapons recharged.   The brief wait was long enough for Dr. Smith to dive to the left,  Ron charged in, fired two shots {The extent of his antiquated weapons} and picked up another two guns, which were ready and waiting.

-=fig, 348: ron saves the day=-

These last two should have been enough, but the Monoids are an en-earthy fast bunch.

  Now their weapons were recharged, and Ron was out of guns.

   He clicked the triggers a few more times, uselessly, and then was pushed out of the way by Dr. Smith who was brandishing a brand-new weapon.

-=fig. 349: the sonic particle disruptor ray=-

"DON'T ANYBODY MOVE!"  Dr. Smith yelled,  The Monoids took notice.

 "Who are you?"  They asked in a monotone, all at once.

  "Doctor Zachary Smith and this–" –He indicated his weapon– "–Is a Sonic Particle Disruptor Ray.  It emits a twenty-foot-square field of sonic static that will vibrate apart your very atoms in seconds.  Hand over your machine."

    "You are…Bluffing." There was a note of uncertainty in their voice,  as if they weren't sure.

      "Your kind has met me before.  I don't bluff. Check your memory banks."

There was a pause as they did just that,

        "What is it that you want?"

          "Your machine, and then for you to willingly jump into the tar below."

            "We do not want to–"

              "Think of it this way, Death by tar, or death by disintegration?"

 The Monoids landed their machine on the roof, and, one by one, jumped into the tar.

  As the last one hit the goo below, the Sonic Particle Disrupter Ray's light-bulb burnt out.  It made a noise like this: "bzt." "Cheap lamp."  Dr. Smith grumbled.

Ron was impressed,

   "bravo, kid.  Even I was starting to believe that it was real.  Can't believe they fell for that. You know how to drive one of these things?"  Dr. Smith hopped into the cockpit, "How hard could it be?" He pulled the only lever, and the dashboard lit up in a smörgåsbord of lights. "Wow!  A touch screen interface!  Haven't seen one of these in years.  Good, I see how it works, anything you want to bring, Mr. DaVeu?"

  "Old Bessie."

   "Old–?"

    "This gun here."

     "Oh.  Hey, bring that string of lamps,  if we're going, I want to be able to see where that is."

-=fig. 350: a commandeered vehicle=-

Dr. Smith pressed buttons like a madman, but with a certain order.

  And they continued along.

   A green, beeping circle appeared, and a line counted out its circumference.

    "Ooh! That's new.  Radar,  But what is it tracking?"

This question would have been answered if he could read Monoidian, a cryptic language which is mainly comprised of a sphere with various geometric chucks cut out of it.  But getting back to the point, the message next to the radar read: "HOME BASE"

-=fig. 351: a menacing home base=-

 Join us next week for our next exciting episode:

 Episode 52: Storming the Gate

 Next Tuesday!  Uploaded at 4:10 G.M.T.

  Available any time past then!

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 50: The Black Planet

Last week as you recall, our own Doctor Zachary Smith was falling.

 Quite the fall, actually.

"JEEEEEEEVES!"

  It would kill a regular person, 

"JEEEEEEEVES!"

  In fact it would have killed our own Doctor Zachary Smith, if it weren't for the gunk.

"JEEEEEEEVES!"

  Technical term.  gunk.

"JEEEE—splat."

    Now, you must understand that Dr. Smith did not say "splat" It was a stage direction.  A sound effect, if you will.  Dr. Smith flailed about in the thick, gooey tar until he hit shore.   It was then that he took stock of his surroundings,

-=fig. 344: the shadow world=-

     They were black.

  Not for want of lighting, but for want of color.  Well, and lighting.  Dr. Smith took stock of his surroundings from a reclined position, the black tar that he had landed in had siphoned his energy and all he felt like doing was sleeping.

 Soundly.

  But not being one for sleeping, usually, he made a last ditch effort to crawl as far as he could away from the tar, which was difficult because the whole place seemed to be covered in the stuff.  His prize-winning fedora had fallen off somewhere along the way, most likely sucked into the terrible goo which covered this god-forsaken place.

     Dr. Smith finally collapsed, face-down in black goo.

-=-

-=fig. 345: a rude awakening=-

     Dr. Smith was awoken by the sound of a kettle boiling over.

As Dr. Smith negotiated himself into an upright position, he noticed his shadowy host had poured the tea into two faded pink glasses.

 "Thank you." Said Dr. Smith as his host handed him his cup.

  "*grunt.*" Said his host.

   "Can you talk?"

    " Yep."

     "Thank you for saving me."  Dr. smith gave a weak smile.

      This was returned with a grunt, then The Man slurped his tea through his teeth without taking his eyes off Dr. Smith, as if he expected him to pull out a sword and run him through. 

"You don't talk much do you?"

 "Nope."

  "What's your name?"

   "Ron DaVeu."

    "I'm sorry, did you say rendezvous?"

      "No.  Ron DaVeu."  Dr Smith was taken aback,  he'd expected the famous Ronald DaVeu to be, well, taller.  And more eloquent.  Also, given the sheer quantity of places named after The Great Ron DaVeu, you would expect him to bathe once in awhile, which obviously wasn't the case as the smell was very nearly unbearable.  To distract his mind from the smell, Dr. Smith took a drink of his tea.

  And then spat it out.  It was terrible.

 "Great tea!"  There was no sarcasm in his voice, merely pain.

"How did you get here little man?"

  "My name's Dr. Smith.  I fell.  From the sky."

Ron growled.

"You don't believe me do you?"

  "I believe you little man.  I fell from the sky too.  I was traveling in the woods.  There was a hole, a square hole that I didn't see 'cause 'twas covered in leaves.  I stepped on the leaves and" –pause for a *growl*– "ended up here."   Ron's voice was as rough as gravel, and he had a permanent scowl as if he were ready to chop off your head at a moments notice.  It should also be noted that the cup he was drinking from was pink and had a small, happy kitten embellished across the front. 

  "Where'd you come from, kid?  Before this black place took ya?"

 "Legopolis City."

  "Legopolis ain't a city.  Tain't more'n my wife and me's cabin."

   "Your wife?"

     "Dame Lisa O'Callaghan the first.  Her family has money.  Can't see why she married me.  Idiot."

      "Probably loved you."

        "Hrghm. Ain't seen her in more'n nine years.  All on account of this <expletive> place."

         "Well! Lets get you outta here!"

          "How do you suggest that?"

Dr. Smith Thought d=for a moment,

 "What's in these letters?"

    "They were here when I got here.  Dint read 'em 'cause I can't read. Burned 'em 'cause I was cold.

 Dr. Smith Picked one up and read it:

Dear Mayor: The Darkness is coming! ITS COMING SAVE US!!! 

 DO SOMETHING ABOUT THE MONOIDS!!!  Their <expletive> Guns shot off me leg yesterday and by Jacob it hurts like the blazes of hell!

Sincerely, 

 FRED.

"Ah! this was the mayors office.  Ther're usually pretty high up, how high up are we?"

 "Two Feet.  That black stuff you were floundering in is like tar.  And It seeps in from everywhere.  Hardens in a day or thereabouts."

  "I don't suppose you found a small leather briefcase out there?  Probably near where I fell?"

   "Nope."

    "Well, now we're stuck.  I don't know what to do."  This was very hard for Dr. Smith to admit, being brilliant he usually knows what to do.   A plan for everything, that's our Dr. Smith.  A plan usually named after a city.  

  "At least there aren't any animals out there that will eat us."–This was punctuated by an unearthly roar.

   "Don't worry kid.  They don't live long in this muck."

    "What are they?"

    "Ain't got no idea.  They're big and have hellish teeth.  Better'n those Monoids though."

     "What are they doing here anyway?"

      "Dunno, don't care."

       "I'll bet you that if we follow them back to their base they'll have a way out of here.  They're in my Legopolis too.  The Monoids, I mean."

          "Where are you from?   I've never seen ya in Legopolis."

          "I'm pretty sure I'm from your future.  Legopolis turns into a grand city, with streets and everything."

Ron met this with a growl.   The roof started to leak black muck, the same tar that's outside.

 "What is this stuff?

  "Dunno.  Sticky, black and it gets everywhere.  Steals yer energy if ya' let it touch ya'.  Works a treat for sealin' up cracks in the ceilin'."

 Dr Smith watched as Ron took a glob of it in a handy mitt and spread it over the slice of ceiling where the tar was getting in. 

 "How did all that get up on the roof?"

  "Rains down from the sky every once in awhile.  Nasty stuff."

  "We need to get out of here.  Quick."

  "How Do you suggest?  Walkin' don't work for long. Wheels gum. Boats don't move.  Lucky I'm tough and you were in my foragin' pattern else you'd never be alive.  And the stuff boils up  like you wouldn't believe. Get caught when one of those blows and you're dead. "

    "How do those Monoids get around?"

    "Well, uh.  They have this–"

-=fig. 346: the marvelous monoid moving machine=-

A small, slow smile breaks across our hero's face as Ron tells him about the Monoids marvelous machine.

 "I have a plan!'

 Join us next week at 4:10 G.M.T. For our next exciting episode:

Episode 51: The Taking of The MMM

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

Different Impressions

My father is a pilot.  Not a commercial one, it's his hobby.  

    A fairly important bit of his plane broke and the mechanic made him buy a new one.

 So he brought home the old, broken piece.

  His impressions are: " *Grumble grumble* Can't see why the guy couldn't have just fixed it.  I can see what he should have done there's a thing right here…" And so on.  

   My impressions were:

 

It's a thing of beauty this device.  Close-up it resembles some sort of nefarious generator!  But from the front it's just another ugly piece of machinery.  

     It was built at a time when brass and copper, tubes and gears were actually feasible, nay, required. 

 And the design never broke or became to expensive to produce, so it never got changed. 

  Amazing.

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

More Steam!

This is how I spent my morning.

  MORE STEAM!

 LESS PUNKS!

You can take this however you want, As a call to arms for Steampunks across the world to weed out the posers, Or to weed out the punks by accepting them into the subculture. 

 The least we can do either way is do away with those horrible low-hanging trousers.

EDIT: Re-reading this post I had this image in my mind of squads of roving Steampunks traveling the alleys and byways of the city transforming those regular punks into upstanding citizens.

Somebody get on that.

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.

The C.W.A. of Dr. Z. Smith: Episode 49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

The Continuing Weekly adventures of Dr. Zachary Smith:
This week:
Episode #49: TipRău's Tip Top Toppers

Last Week As You Recall our heroes had come out of the window of Dr. Smith's garage, to find that the world was gray, Capt. Brown was red, and The admiral was asleep.
But we start our story today, not with Dr. Smith, Capt. Brown, or even the sleeping admiral.
 No, this week we start our story with a piece of newsprint,
an unassuming piece of newsprint,
the stories ripped from the days headlines.

-=fig. 338: scrabble club scandal=-

     Quite literally ripped.

  The headline reads: Doldrums Strike City

{Subtitle: Citizens Don't Care. } This was because all the beautiful colours of the grand city of Legopolis had been sucked from their spots by the villainous Villiam Von TipRău, arch enemy of our own Dr. Smith.

  And as everyone knows, when colours leave, souls go with them.

Von TipRău was wanted by The Church, The State, and Several Counties In The North Of France,

not for his impressive mustache but for his crimes against humanity.

   Our lonely piece of newsprint circles its way across the city, fluttering like a long flat butterfly on the chilled breeze.  It flipped and fluttered, happily unaware of it's imminent doom.

  Flying over Dr. Smith's yard, it's mind turned perhaps to dreams of returning to its homeland, the grand forests where it was––FWOOOOHM!!

-=fig. 339: FWOOOOHM!!=-

The explosion incinerated the paper instantly.

"Nice Shot!" said Dr. Smith.  The Man who had thrown the lantern gave a weak smile.

  "But how did you know that the fire from the lantern would react with the mercury in the top hat?"

"If bullets don't work, fire usually does."

"Ah.  Your plume is aflame."  As The Man ran off to extinguish his shako, Dr. Smith went to inspect the carnage. "James! Come here."

  "What is it Zachary?" said Captain James Brown, mayor of Legopolis.  Dr. Smith prodded the burnt and twisted carcass of the Top Hat, it melted a tiny bit.  "James, don't let anyone touch this." He motioned to the Top Hat "I think it may be some kind of mind control device."

"What makes you think that?"

  "The label." 

 "Ah."

"Outfit your men with some kind of flamethrower, and helmets.  With straps. There's probably something you can use in the garage. Another volley should be coming any sec––" A torrent of the terrible toppers traveled the tops of the turrets, targeted at trolling our turnkeys thinkers.     

"Curses.  James,  try not to get yourself killed or worse, mono-chromised, I'm going across the street."

Across the street was Putzkammer's delicatessen, an abandoned deli a mere block from Dr. Smith's front door and the last known location of Villiam Von TipRău.

"I'm coming with you, Sir."  This was Jeeves, Dr. Smith's robotic butler.

  "You don't have to do that Jeeves." 

 "Ah. but I think that I will be a valuable asset, Sir.  Being a robot the mind control will have no effect on me."

"All right, you can come."

They snuck sneakily through what passed for a door but what was really a collection of boards leaned up against the sheet metal barricade.   Dr. Smith made it as far as the middle of the street before being apprehended by Rather Blank Faced Men, the henchmen of Von TipRău.

-=fig. 340: apprehended by monoids=-

"Good afternoon Rather Blank Faced Men!"

The R.B.F.M. all talked at once, in a monotone no less:

"We are the Monoids."

"Ah! So you can talk."

"Yes.  We have been sent to capture you."

 "And if I don't want to come?"  The sound of eight revolvers all pointed at your head being cocked at once is a worrying sound to say the least. 

   "I thought you wanted to capture me?"

"Our Master cares not if you are dead or if you are alive."

 "By Jacob!  It's a three-headed-monkey!"  Dr. Smith pointed, none of them looked.

  "It is not."

   "I Suppose you wouldn't believe I have a colleague on that roof pointing not one, not two, but three long-range rifles at you?"

    "No."

     "Would you believe… two long range rifles?"

      "No."

-=fig. 341: for preference=-

       "Drop 'em Brigadier!"

          "ARRRGH! DUCK ME HEARTIE!"

Brigadier Black was the sort of man you want at your back in a fight, facing the enemy with some sort of heavy artillery, for preference.   Eight shots rang out eight monoids fell dead, as soon as they hit the ground the eight monoids disintegrated in a cloud of tiny squares.  Not cubes, but one-sided squares.  Dr. Smith did not have time to ponder this physical improbability, because five-hundred monoids were marching in from the east.  He had to go, but he left a parting bit of advice to the guard nearest him: "Set fire to their hats, pass it along."  The monoids were marching so close that one good lantern could create a chain effect, saving bullets.   Always thinking, our Dr. Smith.  As he made a mad dash to the other side of the street, he very nearly was knocked over when he ran into Jeeves.  Jeeves, who was dressed in black and white anyway, was almost invisible in the mono-chomised world.  "Jeeves! Watch where you're standing."

"Sorry Sir.  Fascinating building, This is a delicatessen?"

-=fig. 342: Putzkammer's deli=-

Back in the young days of Legopolis, this derelict building was the assayers office,  Legopolis was originally a mining town and people would come from miles around to mine the hills of Legopolis for Upsidaisium and Luddite, the two rare minerals that made The Grand City of Legopolis what it is today.  A plateau.   The door to the Deli was locked and rusted shut due to years of disuse, but it was mysteriously lacking in glass so it didn't pose a problem.

The walls inside were covered with the lewd and profane graffiti of deli-goes through the ages, and in the middle of the floor, badly covered in loose boards, was a gaping hole.

-=fig. 342: a gaping hole=-

"Jeeves, Pull those boards away from that hole."

  "Yes Sir."  The boards, when pulled away, revealed a pitch black hole.

Dr. Smith and Jeeves stared down into the abyss.

"You first, Sir."

 "Thanks alot Jeeves."

   "You are welcome Sir."

    "That was sarcasm Jeeves."

      "Ah."

  Dr. Smith toed the edge of the hole tentatively.

"That's very deep, Sir."   Dr. Smith nodded his agreement.

Jeeves leaned in closer to get a better look,

Dr. Smith fell.

"JEEEEVES!"

-=fig. 343: whoops=-

"So sorry Sir!"

 "JEEEEVES! USE YOUR ROCKET FEET!"

  "You forgot to install them, Sir."

What willl happen Next? Will Dr. Smith perish at the hands of… In a deadly Fall? Find out in our next exciting episode:

 Episode #50: The Black Planet

-=Best Regards=-

•

Sir Jacob D. Fredrickson Esq.

Chief Executive Officer of Early Bird Industries, Inc.