Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. It is a draft; there are mistakes, many misspellings and sometimes long periods of no updates. copyright: ion fyr 2025
The tentacles retracted from his mouth just as the slime Pool had been floating or hanging suspended in drained away, through orifaces in the floor of the tank.
He took his first breaths in ages in gasps and coughs, and hunched over, suddenly cold and dripping slimy gelatinous goo from his naked body. He would have covered himself, if there were a way, but there was no one watching that he knew of.
The portholes were now above water, a dismal brown and orange cityscape approaching sunset, or maybe after with the afterglow of aerial sewage shone through. Water still sloshed at the window, so they–he–was in river after all. Could this be Londbridge, the thought.
The floor opened and Pool found himself nauseatingly falling, bouncing down a narrow tube, and then suddenly ejected with a burst of water and air, like excrement from the vessel.
Orienting himself, he swam upwards; it was not entirely upwards at first, but he came to the surface after a spasming and thrashing ascent and sucked in a breath.
That was a mistake.
The air was not unlike sticking one’s head in the incineration fire of charnel house. It burned his throat, nose and eyes and had an acid taste that made him wince, and cough and choke more.
Something, a kind stranger, grabbed him by the arm and pulled him upright. He was a meter deep in water and mud. Behind him, a bizarre assemblage of riveted iron and bronze was sinking back into the river with churning brown froth and oily, rusty scum all around it.
In front of him was yet another mechanical man (he had seen something like this before), except, unlike the one from the vessel, this one was made of glowing gobs and bits, and those…what were they called…plasticine? something like that.
And the city. If this was Londbridge, he was Caesar of the Romans.
Looming towers, touching–no penetrating the clouds–hung over him. A body, pale and bloated floated past him. Pool recoiled.
“Come to shore, Mr Pool,” Said the thing…Nila would have said anthromorph. Nila…
I am in Nila’s time.
Ion Fyr 