Kumango

by Ovidiu Bufnila
Translated by Ioana Bostan

"My name is Magicien! And who are you, punk? Are you the pathetic wise man from Takla Makan? Is it you who are withstanding the priestess Enciclope? What? Do you not believe in the imminent discovery of the secret of the solar worlds? That is why I left my narrative structure, dummy, to clear you up. It is not the politicians who get things done around here, on Terra Encyclopedica. Neither do the demons, nor the motor-bikers from hell. Not even the anarchists. The things are spun by the virtual whirlpools and by magnetic fields. Do you know what is a fifth degree utopia, dummy? Or maybe you're a determined Euclidean fan? I, Magicien, can unveil for you the mystery of the worlds, not the one of the laws; they do not really exist, as they are nonsense."

That is how Magicien whispered in the ear of Azgozbanian Azgoban, the first physicist of Klemuria. Of course, the wise man rushed right to the Interpol, then to FBI and to United States where he made a complaint against Magicien, this fabulous figure who came out of a free and independent imagination. The American encyclopedists looked for Azgoban and invited him in a live TV show by WorldNet while ECOLON—the main electronic watcher taped everything that the cells of Azgoban whispered. His cells split with laughter during all the show, because it was only them that knew the terrible truth of all the worlds. And the truth is that poor bodies are nothing but huge containers in which the free states of the consciousness are transferred to lower energy levels so that they might be protected of the pressure of magnetic fields. The one who deals with such fascinating things and the way he actually does it, is a matter of galactic security.

"I, Kumango, am the conductor of this cosmic ballet. Who am I? What do you mean 'who am I?' I am your ringleader, you fool, I rule this bloody stellar barracks that you're calling galaxy. That is it! Go to work earth people, look, the pressure is going down and the rollers are stopping! What do you mean which rollers? It is those things in which we chop all the meat of the moribund species to make meatballs out of it, for the feasts of the big guys of the Universe. Magicien? No, he is a jerk, a conjurer who wants to ease you of your purse. He is not an illusionist. He is the chef who will cook a pie á là New York Encyclopedicus out of your flesh, you morons."

Copyright © Ovidiu Bufnila 2003

Bango Saradai

by Ovidiu Bufnila

"Bango saradai!" shouted the captain of the whaleboat, taking out his filthy cap. I didn't understand what he meant. I left my rifle the barrel down and I hailed him on my turn. He brought with him "The Big Blue Whale".  His big-bellied ship was approaching the gulf really slowly.

"Bango saradai!" whispered to me Elbina, the landlady of "The Silver Bed".

"Bango saradai!" whistled Montgolferrer, the captain of "The Yellow Dirigible Ballon" who had just passed swishing over our city.

"Bango saradai!" cried cheerfully Patrowsky, who had just got out of his Martian rocket.

"Bango saradai!" I cried out, watching the sheriff riding a virtual pterodactyl. The sheriff was really upset of me making a hare of him. He digitalised me for two months and a half.

When turning back from Patagonia, Montgolferrer got me out on bail. The moment he saw me passing through the jail gate, he cried to me laughing:

"Bango saradai!"

And I punched right his nose.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bufnila 2003

The Fortress

by Ovidiu Bufnila
Translated by Ioana Bostan

George rushed to me his fists clenched. I got the time to mind my head. I rolled down on the hillock. George had fallen down on his knees; he was angry and he shouted at me:

"You said this damn ship would bring us on Venus. Do you happen to know where we are? We'll fucking die in this desert until someone comes and rescue us! We'll die like fools! First of all, we'll get thirsty, then we'll start laughing, don't look at me like that, we'll hear a strange music and we'll dance like we've never done it in our whole life! And, finally, death!"

"Are you afraid of it?" I asked him calmly, trying to cool him out. But he outburst:

"Don't be stupid, you're afraid, too, not only of this, but also of the way you'll die. Don't you believe it would be better if this thing happened in a bed and at a pretty old age?"

"Let's keep looking, maybe we find some water," I mumbled vaguely.

As for the water, we did find it, right when we expected less, when we were too exhausted to fight with one another. Later on, we thought of a shelter. We couldn't just sleep in the open. There were plenty of sun burnt rocks around us.

"Let's build a house near the lake," I suggested to George.

"It's not a bad idea, but I think we should rather build a fortress."

I didn't really get his point.

"Well, we're not fighting with anybody!" I replied.

"And what if somebody attacks us?" George persisted.

"In this desert?"

George didn't answer my question. Days and nights were passing by so fast; sometimes, in the daylight, stones were moving in the air all of a sudden; we couldn't explain all this, but it definitely made our work much easier. Now and then, we heard voices and laughs, but of course, they were nothing but auditory illusions. Once the shelter built up, it seemed magnificent to us. We entered and closed the door.

"Now we're safe," George said proudly.

A deafening whistle followed by a strong explosion disturbed the silence of the desert. The missile had passed right over our heads. We ran and climbed up the walls and we watched. At about 200 meters in front of us, there was floating a cloud of smoke. When it scattered, we saw a huge stone cannon and two men standing near it, trying hard to load it up. One of them was GEORGE, the other was ME.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bufnila 2003

Slow Universe

by Ovidiu Bufnila

When the drops of the night sizzled on famous Magicoon's forehead, NASA recorded the first speed slowing and China was covered by a vapor, the Russians lost their submarines into a virtual bag and Magicoon the Magician declared for the first time the principle of One who multiplied Himself bewildering the secret services and taking by surprise the philosophers of the Weimar school, the president of Nepal saw his lizard growing long and turning into a magic circle and Hoba Buba, the jazz singer from the United Nations succeeded the longest octave in music history, the ozone layer turned into a stargate and Barishnikoff, the first physicist in Russia, made peace with Elvin, the first physicist in America, the Gian Mora hurricane stood still in a sculptural formation stolen by the Corsican brigands, Europe broke in two following an eschatological script made up by the Jesuits, princess Margaret got lost inside a silver cloud and important members of the Tin Party found themselves arrested in a Salvadorian painting, the twilight from Malta ran in a great speed towards Borneo burning the tropical forests, Magicoon proclaimed the Principle of the Saturation while the German physicists published the Exophysical Bulla from the Seventh Passing of the Bantuliasan comet, the whole planet started a rapid process of slowing down and the artillerists' chorus from Kursk also stood still in a minor scale, we're losing speed, the Japanese emperor would have whispered calling his secret samurai, slowly, slowly, the words spread out, the language lost its color, the statues crashed, the oceans evaporated, the satellite on duty crashed too, the first Sound of the Universe was heard from all the corners of the energetic patterns and the magnetic fields coiled up in a ball. And then the Voice of Politics was heard.

Copyright © Ovidiu Bufnila 2003