Chapter 4
Planet Rube:
An ICLOWN Refining Plant
Vats and vats of it. ICLOWN had hit the mother lode: Chalk.
Standing over it all, Bluebell sighed in satisfaction. A Black Star moth fluttered about him. Completing a chaotic flight pattern, the female moth landed on Bluebell's prosthetic red nose. She twitched her antennas, sensing the air; feeling safe, she defecated, sprinkling a powdery white mist of Chalk dust. Bluebell smiled.
"That is right my sweet. You just keep it up."
Dabbing the top of his nose with a gloved hand, Bluebell inspected the Chalk residue and by licking it, in its rawest state, the Chalk sent a sudden jolt of energy through Bluebell's system. His eyes sparkled beneath his ICLOWN makeup, denoting his status within the company. He was a pure 'White Face', a leader of clowns.
Doused in the Chalk's embrace, Bluebell reminisced about his past - living on the mainland of his home world: Rube.
Back then, he lived a life free of hard work or responsibility. He spent his days as a Vice President of Interstellar Sales for KING (Kuningas Interstellar Nexus Group). He was one of many vice presidents - a group of thirty-six or more in his division. Business was booming. All he had to do was show up to a handful of meetings in a month. He had scores of employees to do all the business analysis, the hiring, the firing, and the compilation of reports.
Being a figurehead back then was a breeze, as long as one had the right skills to charm, inspire, and enthrall the clients and staff. When KING was at its zenith, perception was reality. And reality was sweet.
The 'Incident' cured that perception.
During KING's golden age, it had pioneered the pursuit of interstellar travel for decades. After mastering the starways between the six planets within the Pazzo solar system, that is when KING reached outside itself and blazed a trail to enter neighboring systems within the Triangulum galaxy.
Unbeknownst to Bluebell, his staff was more efficient and competent than he realized. They were the first division picked to arrowhead the first starway transit service to Glum54, the nearest star system to Pazzo. However, the genius of Bluebell's team propelled them into irreversible doom.
The contact with Glum54 harbored an alien apocalypse. In one swift stroke, the reality of the company's progress was maimed. The devastation of the 'Incident' wiped out all contact with other planets, Alien jungles sprouted throughout the mainland and on the big continent islands of Rube.
The first alien contact was not a race, but a spawn of infestations that killed over eighty percent of the population and sunk the world's economy into a backward spiral.
Alien spores from Glum54 clung onto and seeped into the first King scout ships to explore the planet's atmosphere. Upon re-entry to Rube, the spores fed on the planet's surface. Some of these KING scout ships were re-directed to scheduled lift offs to other planets. The full spread of the spores is still unknown to this day. 'Wyrd' was the slang term given for these infernal alien infestations.
Along with the treachery of the Wyrd came a strange salvation: Chalk. This one substance, created from the Black Star moths that fed in the alien jungles, was a multipurpose commodity with thousands of uses: fuel, food, medicinal cures that immunized the remaining Rube population from the toxicity of the Wyrd, ammunition, materials for construction; the applications for Chalk became innumerable within the following years.
The 'Incident' bankrupted KING and caused them to reform and recreate itself into two new sister companies: ICLOWN (International Chalk League of Western Nations) and ICLOEN(International Chalk League of Eastern Nations).
Bluebell was one of the few VPs to survive the lay offs, by being posted to this desolate Chalk mining/refining plant on the island of Jaggerwind - far from the surviving civilization ports of the mainland. It was a demotion that stung him deeply.
After enduring eight years, his fortune and fate, changed for the better. Chalk became Bluebell’s ticket out of the sticks. Without reason, a huge colony of Black Star Moths chose to congregate on this one western island and for the past five years it blanketed it with their powdery defecations. Chalk seeped effortlessly into everything: soil, plants, and stone. The value of the substance was beyond measure.
Bluebell did what he did best and capitalized on his dumb luck by preparing the first shipments of Chalk for next water vessels headed for the mainland. They were due to show up for the cargo within the next few days This success would absolve Bluebell from the stain of KING's demise and the high executives of ICLOWN had already decided to welcome him back to the fold by promoting him. From massive factory windows, Bluebell gazed out into the Wyrd horizon and dreamed about his impending return home - away from the filthy jungle.
I can not believe my luck , Bluebell hunched over, leaning, and rested his chin on the catwalk railing. It is amazing that I am in line to run the show.
It didn’t hurt that Bluebell was a direct descendant of the ICLOWN founder – Punchenello. However, nepotism only goes so far. He was sent on a fool’s errand and came out a winner.
In the distance of the one main road, Bluebell could see armed clown guards approaching, holding their Gatling chalkheg rifles at the ready, as the late afternoon tractorhauls dragged in their powdered loads. Bluebell grew anxious; they were over an hour late in returning
Bluebell's nose lit up as it rung.
He touched his nose, “Yes! Yes!”
From the catwalk, Bluebell could see the clown guard’s lips moving, while applying a finger to one of his ears, trying to drown out the refining plant noises. Just outside the factory doors, the supervisor guard's nose was flashing. However, Bluebell did not receive a response on his end.
“Cheap ICLOWN equipment!” Bluebell touched his nose, “Did not receive, please repeat.” He waits for a few seconds, “Bongo! Did not copy. Report!”
Bongo’s body language showed frustration, as his lips continued to move.
“Forget it. Report to me, once you get inside.”
Sifting back into his nostalgic state, Bluebell reflected on his uncle Punchenello.The founder of ICLOWN was a bit of a loon: a trust fund baby with nothing better to do then pull in his blue blood ties to finance his pet projects. His addiction to state-of-the-art technology and his love for prehistoric mythology, namely the legendary tales of some obscure world that contained an after-life/paradise called the Circus, caused him to structure the ICLOWN Company into an unconventional design. The hierarchy of positions created by these out-worlders held positions such as clown, buffoon, jester, and a series of other titles.
Fortunately for Punchenello ,in the more technologically advanced past, Rube had the capacity to collect and cipher information from thousands of belief systems outside of its galaxy via space probes. Being a wealthy collector, he had purchased many recordings, data, and transmissions gathered by these probes. He used them for both work and pleasure.
As ICLOWN celebrated its first year anniversary, the growing responsibilities of ICLOWN bore too heavily on him and stole precious time that he could have used researching his artifacts. Punchenello, eventually, sold off his shares to other members.
Not wanting to spend further funds and resources, the new owners decided to keep the clown hierarchy structure of management, instead of starting over again.
In homage to this Circus, the company apparel codes demanded that all employees dress up like these iconic figures called clowns during business hours. All management level employees were called White Faces while all entry-level employees were called Augustes.
The Augustes wore the required uniform. It consisted of exaggerated make-up accentuating the eyes, nose and mouth: giving a constant look of immense happiness. Employees, also, wore accessories such as multicolored wigs, ancient head gear and other props that may or may not be needed to complete their daily tasks.
The factory clowns scrambled everywhere, as Bluebell supervised their progress. Sleep deprived and working additional shifts, the
y prepared themselves for the incoming haul of Chalk.
The dust that permeated the factory was enough to enhance the worker’s abilities to endure long hours. However, the incessant grind, over the years, of mining and processing this mother lode had leached them. Their work tone was somber and methodical - forever shining with painted-on smiles.
Hoped you enjoyed the first series of Clown World and thank you for reading it.
If you wish to continue the Clown World saga, Clown World-Issue 2: El Barfo is now available for purchase.
A link can be found at the following web site:
happydaggerpress.com
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends