Don't Cry Cryo

 

You're racked with spasms of rage, weeping, denial, unnamable fear and yet more shrieking and crying. All because literal Hitler Kremlin asset is coming to get you, to hunt you down; it's a living nightmare. Fortunately there's a service to make it all OK, to make it better, Don't Cry Cryo:

Go on, trust the science, and thanks Big Pharma. 

Cheers,

LSP

Erebus Diamond - Ladies Side

Georgiana Spencer-Poyntz Cavendish, 17th Duchess of Devonshire, looked out on the manicured lawn of Green Park from the windows of London’s Cavalry and Guards Club. 

It was mid-May in 2204 and it was raining, predictably, spring's drops tapping and patterning the windowpane. England’s foremost adventuress and landowner of not inconsiderable fortune turned to her host, “Kitchener, what earthly purpose is there in weather satellites when they can’t control the weather?”

Lord Kitchener fixed Devonshire with a friendly eye over a cup of afternoon Darjeeling, freshly brought in that very day from Her Imperial Majesty’s territories in Burma. “Earthly, Devo?” he had known her since they were children playing on the grounds of Chatsworth, “I’d say more celestial, don’t you think?” Devonshire sat down neatly and helped herself to tea, “Celestial, Field Marshall?”

“Yes, just that. To be more precise, the Celestial Kingdom.”

“You mean Mars, New China? I thought that settled business.”

Kitchener frowned, “Settled? In a sense, yes. New China isn’t about to eject our Legations, the Dowager Empress is gone and Prince Qing sits on the throne. He’s favourable to us, as well he should be.” 

The Field Marshall thought back to the high orbit bombardment his Anglo-US fleet had rained down on the Empress’ forces. A merciless hail of incandescent fury which, as if out of spite, had obliterated the Chinese Summer Palace and the priceless artefacts therein. Well, war was war, even if limited.

“You see, Devo, the raid was successful, but there’s the small matter of a diamond, the Erebus Diamond.”

Devonshire looked askance, “The Erebus Diamond? What do you mean, surely we have that?” Kitchener smiled, and instantly they found themselves in Null Space, free from prying eyes and ears, the comfort of of 127 Piccadilly replaced by the no-space of Null, a grey background surging with damping static.

“There,” said Kitchener, above the hissing sound, “The diamond. As you know, Sir Carter Headington was carrying the gem in transit when we launched our strike on the Palace and lifted the siege.” Devonshire glanced agreement, “And?”

“It's disappeared. Gone. Lost, if you’ll forgive the phrase, in the 'fog of war,  Nebel des Krieges.' We suspect the Tongs have it, which means Empress Cixi intends to have it, which must never happen. You understand.”

“I most certainly do,” remarked Devonshire, tragically widowed when her philandering husband met his end in an alcohol-fueled duel on the Crystal Palace space elevator. His opponent had been in the pay of the Chinese Dowager Empress and of course she had killed him, a matter of honour. Yes, Devonshire knew something of the danger of Cixi. But so be it, the elevator incident had left her vastly wealthy and free to do as she pleased.

Georgiana regarded Kitchener with her famously insouciant grin. He replied, “I think you know what to do, Devo, old girl. Go out and get that diamond. And by the way, should Cixi disappear, which of course she has already, that would be helpful.”

Devonshire nodded, and in an instant they were back in the reassuring warmth of the club. She descended the long stairwell in a rustle of skirts, admiring the paintings of illustrious charges. Such was Empire. Then to her Brougham and a brisk clip past the Palace, Apsley House, where the Wellington's held court when in Town, and on through Hyde Park, and the towering Albert Memorial.

Georgiana looked up at the soaring gothic magnificence of its spire, which seemed to pierce heaven itself, and reflected on the Prince Consort's cryogenically frozen head, sealed there, in its midst. Her neural implants picked up traces of Albert's refrigerated voice, vestigial waves of the mind emanating from his frosty sepulchre, What of worth has ever been achieved which did not inspire fear? 

"Quite," thought Devonshire, "if Teutonic." The Consort had been dead, for the most part, for well over two hundred years and still the people wore mourning. She did herself, perfectly, in black. 

Perhaps this was about to change, but regardless, the heroine of Olympus Mons thought on the brilliance of the Erebus Diamond and plotted a mental course for Phobos, Great Britain’s Imperial staging post for the Red Planet.

Yes, this story writes itself... I think.

Cheers,

LSP

Time Traveler Brings Back Photos Of Life On Mars

Proof has finally emerged that life exists on Mars, in the year 3812. Photos brought back by a young time traveler known only as "Mary", reveal buildings, a cathedral, and humanoid creatures living on the inhospitable surface of the red planet.

“Mars was very interesting and at the same time very frightening," stated Mary, 37, "It looked like a desert with many buildings and York Minster, I immediately took a photo. You can see the spaceships on which we came, you can also see the buildings."

The time traveler met with one Mars creature who called himself "Justsin" and wore a black coat. The humanoid took her for a ride in his flying car to see "the Sentamu."

“I was walking through the city when a man came to me who was wearing a black coat. His name was Justsin, he asked me to follow him to see 'the Sentamu' and we walked away and went to his car. 

"I couldn’t forget that emotion when I was flying above York Minster, on Mars.”

Ad Astra,

LSP

Anglican Church of Canada's Theology Found on Mars!

Star gazing boffins at NASA believe they may have unlocked the mystery of the Anglican Church of Canada's (ACoC) missing theology, on Mars!

Mars

Hi-resolution images from NASA's Reconaissance Orbiter show the missing theology in a depressed area of the barren Red Planet, possibly the impact site of a meteor or asteroid. Resembling Morse Code, ACoC's theology consists of a series of dots and dashes which have been decoded by planetary scientist, Veronica Bray, to read:

Decoding The Theology

NEE NED ZB 6TNN DEIBEDH SIEFI EBEEE SSIEI 

ESEE SEEE !!

Others aren't convinced. "It's not really theology," stated one Xenologist, "It's more like a random series of dunes created by the swirling wind of ACoC's General Synod."

Off-World

Has the Anglican Church of Canada's theology finally been found and if so, what does it say? Or is the so-called "theology" nothing more than sand, blown by the fierce Martian wind?

Ad Astra,

LSP

Massive Dust Devil Spotted on Mars

Lucky NASA boffins have captured an image of a massive dust devil on Mars, much larger than it is on earth.

The photo of the enormous whirling dust storm was caught by NASA's Opportunity rover as it trundled across the red planet's Meridiani Planum, and it left scientists excited.

Dust Devil

"This is one of the best dust devils that we have seen in Meridiani Planum," said lead investigator Ray Arvidson, "We are lucky to have captured this one in an image!"

Dust Devils form when hot air connects with wind sheer, producing a swirling mass of airborne grit, sand and dust.

Aerial View of a Dust Devil

The Anglican Consultative Council was unavailable for comment.

LSP