The Indigo Sketch Unit is the only device capable of decoding the encrypted signals from the temporal slipstreams of The Unknighted Kingdom. The broadcasting of these transmissions is the task of The Overseers.

The Fisherman

The oarsman was a dog, although at the time I didn’t think this was unusual. Nor did I find it unusual that the dog was headless. What I did find unusual was that the dog’s head, which was on the boat’s deck, next to the dog, asked me for my ticket.

I fumbled around in my pocket and produced a rather wet ticket, no doubt wet from the lake, and handed it to the oarsdog. His paw had no trouble curling around the sodden paper, which he held at a comfortable reading distance from the keen eyes of his decapitated head.

“Fishing. One,” said the dog’s head, satisfied at the authenticity of my ticket. “Climb aboard.”

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Electric Pepsi

Image by Andrew Fairclough

Image via Andrew Fairclough

Some men are so focused on grand gestures that they forget that it’s the small things that make a woman smile, Penelope thought whilst rummaging through her handbag in a nonchalant, semi distracted way, perhaps looking for a tissue or chewing gum, certainly not wanting to appear overly interested in Ralph’s easy way with the small change, and the way he rolled the coins to and fro across the back of his knuckles like a regular spaceport hunk (more than a regular spaceport hunk come to think of it). After all, no one had ever taken her to the vending machine before, and although she’d been showered in diamonds mined from the moons of Neptune, and shuttled off for exotic holidays in the outer rings of Saturn, sometimes a girl needs a trip to the vending machine to add a bit of excitement to her otherwise drab, predictable life, and the way that Ralph was blowing on the coin as he placed it to the slot (for an extra smooth journey through the inner mechanisms, he said {what a dreamboat}), was getting her so hot and bothered that she needed to wipe the condensation from the visor of her space helmet so she could clearly see the numbers under each of the items for sale.

“D7!” she shouted with joy.

“Item D7 it is, my darling,” Ralph said as he fed the change into the slot, taking care to punch in the correct number so as not to disappoint the one he cherished most dearly.

The vending machine clunked and whirred in the most archaic fashion, and a little man, no more than four inches tall, tumbled from its dispenser and promptly righted himself before waving a tiny pair of pliers and a soldering iron in the air.

“Oh, Ralph!” she exclaimed. “My very own miniature electrician. I’m so happy!”

Glitched Up

Cyber Room

Image via absolutesciencefiction

The client is due to arrive at seven. Just enough time to clean up this shithole of an apartment. I’ve been working this gig for forty-eight hours straight. That’s forty-eight hours of bad food, sweat and no sleep. You can tell by looking at the place. Usually a job like this would take two weeks minimum, but hey, I need the cash. Client seemed pretty desperate too, but I see a lot of that.

Met him in a bar in central Eve through a mutual contact. I could spot him a mile off; soaked in fucking sorrow. Made eye contact, that was enough. Strolls right on up.

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On the evening of ██/██/████, The Wardens of the Pathways were dispatched to a three bedroom semi-detached house located in ████████, London. Initially they were alerted to its location after detecting a series of electromagnetic pulses consistent with the classic model of a small scale reality breach originating from the Unknighted Kingdom. According to calculations, the reality breach was suspected to be that of an object weighing no more than 500g.

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Lunar Fragment

Lunar Fragment

Image via vektormon

Last night I saw my lover in the inklight. Silver was his shine. Tidal was my roar. Amidst the pin pricked void, his crooked grin was a cutlass slice. All tranquil seas and craters, and robed in midnight’s halo, with a dark side that sets my waves to the sways. Shores giddy with excitement, foaming at the sands, I bounced his face across my rippling mirrors; east to west, and embraced his stillness in lagoons of blue. I sang a song of seashores; echoed in the seashells, as he hummed a lunar lullaby whilst dancing out of phase. He sparkled in my dewdrops; sleepy yawning at the dawn, then tucked himself behind a mountain away from daylight’s burning eye.

The Head Restaurant

And so it began, of us there were three:
A ladybird, an engine and little old me.
And the strangest of restaurants that you’d ever see
One night where we journeyed for a wee spot of tea.

Inside a beetle we traveled along
A road whilst the ladybird sang us a song.
A car that’s a beetle, who would have thought?
Its legs were short, it was bumpy, and my nerves were quite fraught.

The engine enquired about my stethoscope
I said, “I’m not wearing one, is this some kind of joke?”
But that’s how he knew I’m a real doctor, you see,
As only an imposter would wear one without patients to treat.

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Tree of Inlustris

According to legend, the roots of the Tree of Inlustris run as deep as the earth is old. An ancient mass that sits atop of a rocky hill, its gnarled trunk is ridged with bloated arteries that circulate a thick silver liquid known as the blood of the bark. At over two thousand feet tall, its lofty canopy is home to an umbrella of leaves unlike those of any other flora in existence: tiny pinpricks of light cast in a myriad of hues. It is interesting to note that for miles around, the land is of a lifeless monochromatic grey. Some say that this is because the roots of the Tree of Inlustris absorb nutrients from the colours of the earth.

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Victorian Pimp 1.0

For those who like to evoke the dirty sleaze of the nineteenth century, Victorian Pimp 1.0 is the ideal Eve City extension. Following beta tester feedback, the basic download will include all streets, open spaces, landmarks and public transport network overlays. Initial release will be limited to Eve City and rolled out across the rest of The Unknighted Kingdom in the coming months. With its vast areas of featureless pearlescent architecture, glass streets, neutral toned faux flora and monochromatic apparel, Eve City is considered the ideal testing ground for large scale distributions of this kind. Glitch harvesters will be deployed in the more densely populated areas of the city to ensure the smooth running of Victorian Pimp 1.0.

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Buttons and Sparkle

“Crazy man, dancing like nobody else exists in the universe. Tripping to his own beat. Flipping the rhythm switches of the soul. You remember?”

“The night Resurrected played?”


“Sure do. Seen some shit, but that? Man, that guy was pure groove maverick.”

“Tell em, tell em.”

“Tell us what?”

“It was at that weekender in Eve Gardens last year. You know the one?”

“Yeah, couldn’t get tickets. Gig was sold out in minutes.”

“Right. Guess we got lucky. Was one mental ride. Should have seen it. Resurrected had a special line up that night. I guess that’s why it sold out so quick. Every dead musician you can think of played their jam on that evening. Stage was packed with ghosts.

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Mr Tick Tock’s Clock Shop is full of curious timepieces. Many come from far and wide to view his exquisite collection, but few succeed in their endeavours. It is said that this is because his shop only exists at half past the second. It flickers in and out of existence to the ticking of a special clock, and only those who can successfully adjust their perception of time are able to determine the location of his establishment. This, in a way, is how Mr Tick Tock screens his clients.

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