LUNATIX

There are very few things that I enjoyed more in life than: eating my steak with sauerkraut, skiing the slopes of the Alps, looping a Messerschmitt, listening to Rivkah and letting her loose on me.

Today is the day when I met Easter. Alain calls her the bijou goddess. This is correct. She is more than a head taller than me. For this matter, said she, I’ll be better standing and she will be pleased kneeling in front of me. She walks naked all the time, which is no major surprise for a guy who was around Rivkah as much as I’ve been.

We shake hands while Alain makes the introductions and then Easter unbuttons my uniform, pulls down my trousers and stares up at me. Her glittering eyes asking. I wish to say that it hasn’t been an hour yet, since Rivkah drained my balls. But Easter’s finger freezes my lips with a tender touch. Speechless, I let her loose on me.

The head I’ve got from Easter is one of a kind. My head, the other one, is whirling. Think that I’m about to pass out. Like minutes before, above the abyss. There I faced the untold fear of the pit. Here I close my eyes to sleep on the telling euphoria of Easter. Rivkah won’t mind. She is the one who sent me to Easter, didn’t she?

Sandman is here, sprinkling little stars behind my closing eyes. I sleep. [...]

“He must look, feel and sound like Mother Rebecca.” I hear my bijou goddess on my waking way out. Looks like she’s arguing with someone.

“I can shut down Astarte’s memories about Rebecca,” says another crystal voice, “and this would make more sense than transvesting this man.”

“Sure, Aunt Beatrice, you may shut down her memories with Mother Rebecca. However, I fear that she will realize that something is wrong. She hates being lied, especially by you. If she arrives to suspect that you are deceiving her—the last person she totally trusts on this planet—then, well, I don’t know what to say.”

“Look, Easter, this is a covert op and the crux of it is having Astarte believe that Rolf is Rebecca. As simple as that. What is your plan? I am all ears.”

“First, Saturn and I have already activated a filter in the natural feeds to Astarte. But this filter only prevents information from being shared. Nothing more. I hope that she won’t notice but I can’t tell for certain. So I was considering to ask you for an alteration of our perception.”

“What alteration?”

“Whenever we shall see and hear Rolf, make us see and hear Rebecca. This is my plan.”

“Daemon deceitful tactics. You are asking me to apply your own methods on you?”

“This is what I do ask from you, Aunt Beatrice.”

“Wow, wow, wow,” say I standing up on my feet, “heard that you’re talking about me. Could you...” Oops, I am naked in the presence of these women, or goddesses, or whatever persons of the female kind they are.

Wondering, won-de-ring... A-haa, the answers to my questions abound, my mind rains with Bach and dances on the lyrics that have the power to tame my curiosity.

I get the picture now. Rebecca is my Rivkah (easy to figure this one) and she is no natural mother to Easter but her godmother; while Astarte is the natural mother of Easter and (come again?) even if this is tough to believe, Astarte is thirty-four meters high, the kind of the giants (red blooded giants, not like my blue blooded avatar inside the Moon); Beatrice is no aunt to anyone either because she used to be a nun before being shot in the heart by a Negger, fixed and kissed by her husband who is, W-who is... no other than Jesus.

Okay, my head would rather return to sleep some more but Beatrice (the Bach fairy) pours more celestial symphonies over my neurons. Sleep is no option, at least as long as Beatrice keeps a finger focused on me.

“This, my dear Rolf, is what twenty-first century people call the Cloud,” says Beatrice approaching to touch my hand with the aforementioned finger. “We won’t waste time speaking to you and you won’t suffer in desperation, trying to make a sense out of our sayings. I see that you wish to help, do you?”

“I always did.”

“Nice, so what is your take on this covert op then?”

“Make me sound and look like Rivkah if this is what it takes. But don’t put me near Astarte because I am afraid to fail feeling like Rebecca. Guess that I should stop calling her Rivkah from now on.”

“Very good!” States Beatrice. “Rebecca will get busy and very busy and even busier in her command center at level 191. We’ll ask Rolf to make her look and sound a bit hysterical at times, so that Astarte won’t mind missing her presence too much. Are we on the same page?”

Seems that we are. My mind told me this 145 milliseconds before hearing the words spoken by Beatrice. Oh wait, milliseconds? Ain’t that krass?

It is, yeah, thought so. Thanks for welcoming me to your club. Now I can speak in many languages, make an accent sound original and look like the woman I love.

By the way, Beatrice! Could you please inform me what is Rivkah, er, Rebecca doing while we cover up for her?

Ah, so. I see. Classified information. Can live with that. This is what I did my entire life. Living with that.

Moment mal. Easter and Saturn are twins. Their father is Kronos, another red blooded giant. Okay, got that. But who did you say was their greater bro...