There is nothing sweeter than knowledge. Nothing more thrilling than pursuing it. Nothing more ecstatic than the realization of a scientific revelation.
In my whimsy I like to equate science to art, or at least draw parallels between the two. It is of little surprise to me that the science of the rubbery folk – for they do truly have a scientific field of their own – is much more akin to an art.
I have had the privilege of studying under rubbery artists and scientists at Helicon House. It was an exquisite honour to learn from them, see their unique perspectives, hear their peculiar theories. Although I have had previous run ins with their Art, there is truly nothing that can match true mastery.
In this way, I would like to extend a thanks for me and the larger community, and express my hopes of further Shaping society for the better.
Art of London
by Chronic Dreamer
I visited the cove whenever I could, a sparkling secret only known to me. They greeted me with splendor every time, rippling up out of the water and carrying me through the air. The white sand glittered in the sunlight, just as joyous as me and my secret friends.
No one knew where I would go on the weekends. Most assumed the worst, that I would go indulge myself. I gave them no reason to think otherwise, I would occasionally return exhausted the next morning. The next day would not be one of those days, this day I laid peacefully among my watery friends who danced about the calm shore.
An enormous screeching blot cast a bestial shadow over us. My friends dove back into the water, disappearing. The aphotic mass in the sky rushed towards the beach, the indistinct din becoming thousands of individual screams all cutting over one another. Countless shards of deep amethyst ravens raked at the sky while biting each other on their descent.
Just before they would have enveloped everything, one of my friends sprang from a wave and covered me. I was tossed off my feet as the land under me buckled to the force of the cloud’s impact. I called to my friend through the sudden onset of darkness. There was no response.
I could hear them, those horrors. They racked stone and sand all around me, their hysterical cries tearing my ears asunder. I spat sand from my mouth, calling out again to my friend. No response. The constant barrage made my whole body tremble on top of my fear.
Shards of something sharp embed themselves into my body, my cries unheard even to myself. My body convulsed with another shard cutting deep into my shoulder. Another two cut into my back, and another into my neck. With each stab, I could feel less and less. My body stiffened, unable to flee from the five, twenty, hundred shards all slicing into me.
…When I came to, my eyes were already open. I couldn’t move any part of my body, not even my eyes to look around. I couldn’t feel anything either, not the heat of the sun, the sand under me… No, it wasn’t sand. My eyes were transfixed on the horizon of the ocean. No matter how hard I tried to look around, they wouldn’t obey. I told my body, demanded it, to move. I laid where I was.
From my peripheries, I could see it wasn’t sand that I laid upon, but some kind of black shattered sludge that argued with light. The waves lapped with sorrow at, not the shore but, a beach of crystal water growing from the sludge. And above me… was my friend. They were the same crystal water, unmoving.
The day eventually fell below the horizon, and darkness overcame us. The day rose again, fell, rose, fell, and rose. Time became lost to me. I thought maybe someone would search for me, but nobody came. So, there I stayed, lost to time in a forgotten cove, waiting for the world to end.
News of Art, Art of News
Helicon House Opens Its Doors – Rubbery Art For All!
Standing in Ealing Garden, the newly-built yet seemingly ancient Helicon House hosts the Tentacled Entrepreneur’s candidate project. Though he had not won the election, it brings joy to us to see the efforts of not only him but of his supporters come to fruition so fast. Walk with us then, metaphorically, into the Helicon House.
It is important to bear in mind that these are merely beginnings of the project, yet one must admit they are impressive. A solemn clay man guards the entrance, collecting donations from visitors. The currency here is beauty and art – and such is what welcomes all that enter the Helicon House.
From the moment one sets a foot in the parlour, amber fills the world. It is indeed one constant gallery, with artists (largely of the rubbery disposition) commingle, share, and – yes – create. Expositions and impromptu workshops are a daily Helicon bread, as painters capture the world around them, sculptors give form to dreams, and musicians expose their souls on a stage.
The main attraction here, of course, is art of the rubbery folk. Besides the countless amber statues and bazaarine-inspired paintings, novel and strange music fills the House. Soulful, yet clearly not human, to its benefit rather than detriment. It does not seem to follow the usual scales, adhere to repetition, or many other of our musical principles. It is something wholly unique and enamouring.
Closer examining the sculptures of the rubberies, it is clear that Shaping is natural for them. Amber bends under tentacles, warm, warmer, suddenly fluid, then rigid as it stops in what can only be considered the most perfect, most desirable shape for that particular piece. It is perhaps not an exact science, though that only elevates it higher to the notion of an Art.
We encourage and welcome you all, our dearest readers, to board a train (tenpence a ticket) and visit the Helicon House for a truly magnificent experience.
Ask Mother Goose
Dear Mother Goose,
The stars and the squares and the dots and the lines – all dance, all conspire, all see.
Ah, the plethora of mystery. The pure joy of discovery. May it never expire and fill your world with wonder.