From “Voices” by Sister Xerndru Volxndí

 

V. The Diabolical Dialogue

 

I began to believe then that my first hope would be to flatter the Tattered Tempters and praise them sky-high. I would greet them as they desired and expected, from the bottom of my heart, as divinities of the planets, the soil, the rivers, the sky, the weather, space, and time, although their existence pollutes the past and the future, and threatens the stars, and prevents our World from being happy or brave. I would not restrain myself from saying how genteel they were, and how meritorious, nor how great was their intelligence, their ability, and their knowledge, how notable their feats, how laudable their achievements, and how wondrous the Empire they had created for themselves and all the dead, which they rule from the Paranoiac City. I announced my presence clearly, saying:

 

“Splendour and a strong arm to you, O Vessels of Magnificence! The exile and the runaway have no roots, even in their own land. I have fallen through immeasurable depths containing World within World. I have swum across the main and trudged through the forest and the jungle, and have reached at last the stairs of corundum, full of vines and fungus, ruined for millennia, that lead to this place holding a blister of the eternal present.”

 

These are the reprehensible regents Mazid, Bavaz, Kemal, Havon, Dokuh, Vohur and Tuhom, who control the forces of annihilation, fury, wrath, iniquity, formlessness, emptiness, and endlessness from the strongholds of Taril, Zidun, Gamor, Sudom, Tharah, Khuleth, and Shilig. Their totalitarian power, authoritarian commands, and labyrinthine hierarchical organizations work to displace those with peerless talent, inexhaustible creativity, and indefatigable intelligence, and promote faithful fools and committed crackpots in their stead. It is these who bullshit insouciantly, fluently, and eloquently to acquire and accomplish whatever the lazy, bombastic governors want. I said:

 

“These are the ruins of the Radiant City, the beautiful Nelvel, the new Qo-higanom. And here, in this sanctuary, I have come to find the Sublime Ones, rulers of the in-between states, divinities of the heavenly wheel, harmonizers of the base and the exalted, judges of the dead and the living. You are the Bornless Ones, possessing ambiguous bodies, not one species or another, who unite earth and air, the pure and the defiled, who are neither naked nor clothed, and who take but without possessing. So eclectically baroque is the mythology in which you partake so freely, manifestations of the old heroes Zarlé, Folré, Davdí, Rilfé, Vensé, Kamthí, and Sovfí! With an unstoppable deluge you reconciled terrible evil and the greater good, and relieved subjugation to deadly disobedience for ever.”

 

The rabbit-warrens of the Blessed Bureaucracy house a barrel-load of bad apples bristling with back-biting and back-stabbing, crazy power-games, legalized drudgery, mortally unhealthy patronage, shady dealings, and illicit but steamy sexual relations between employers and employees. Here, it stinks of the corrupt enchantment and the priceless allure belonging to purposeless things made only for pleasure, diversion, and idleness. The legal delinquents propping up the corrupt system are puffed up with pride, and so full of themselves that they are incapable of feeling the lightest shame. The sadistic leaders constantly disgrace themselves by telling so many lies that the boundary between fact and fiction dissolves. Despite that, it is impossible to embarrass them as they stuff themselves, booze, and brawl in this shambolic, decaying, hermetic bubble of inherited privilege that will never die. Trying to interact with them is like starting a conversation with a gang of surly standoffish teenagers brimming with hormones who communicate only in grunts; fighting to reason with a riotous mob of drunk or drugged-up persons waving home-made bombs in your face; or struggling to discipline a herd of adult babies with superpowers who have been horrendously spoiled. But despite all that, I went on:

 

“It is you who control the motion of stars, the pull of gravity, and the dreams of nations in the past and the future, so full of tears. It is you who steer the unseen hand of time, the best painter and parent of transformation who teaches every Wizard. Here I am, on the threshold of the Blue House, the wintry hell, where the eternal flames surrounding every globe swirl. Here, I hear enchanting music, semi-random, repetitive, and inhuman, distorting all the angles to form an incredible geometry. From here, the traveller will be sure of falling down to an infinite multiplicity of Worlds if he yield to the strongest attraction and jump into the abyss, throwing away his body like a dirty glove to become a fleshless spirit, blind and wild. Here, it is always the exact middle of both night and day, that shadowless hour, neither dark nor light, the time of vision and revelation, when nothing moves despite the storm of change thundering beyond, as you, the Spectres of Salacity, take counsel amidst the living stones.”

 

The Terrible Divinities are old hands at hiding themselves like begonias amongst roses, poinsettias, poppies, tulips, and petunias, whilst broadcasting their control-signals like sickeningly sweet scents through the aether. At first, I did not see them, although I sensed their cold, calculating presence as I stood there, spinning blandishments. I thought then that it is I who would play the part of Shekhis the master of burning, who once plotted against them in the underwater lair of Mulond, until he was betrayed by Hlodeh the vassal who was a double-agent and turned into a living idol. At last, they started their verbal assault on me by saying:

 

“We are the Superb Authorities! We are the Lords of the Self-generating Vaticinatory Blueprints and the Incandescent Anomalies, who possess the astounding ability to shake the All-World, and influence directly and indirectly all of nature’s forces and all the senses, causing effects that will reoccur ever and anon, and shaping and changing reality!”

 

The Seven Old Masters had bushy, glowering eyebrows, and long yellow fangs, as well as sparse fur all over their bodies and bestial dewlaps, although I was not able to discern that straight away. By the time you reach the Inverted Tower, which is home to the Unclean Temple, it will not matter whether you believe faithfully in these phantasmagorical creatures. They continued, lugubriously:

 

“Welcome, exhausted traveller who’s journeyed so far to be here! Relax, stop worrying, and trust us. Maybe then you’ll be able to give up pushing forward thoughtlessly all the time, and have a break, and analyze things aright, rather than spitting in life’s face like rest of your pitiful race.”

 

These are the Great Debasers. They are egotistic, irresponsible, manipulative, megalomaniac, ruthless, psychopathic, self-deceiving, and spiteful. They stink of unashamed entitlement and the pernicious products of privilege. Sister Xonuxa has alleged that it is they who kidnap the prospective Enchanter from the Eyrth as a child and teach him occult secrets before erasing the memories, only to leave hidden learning locked in his mind. When they arrived amidst all the pomp and vanities of their wicked World, I greeted them thus:

 

“Hail to you majestic, self-created spectres! I acknowledge you and greet you! Salutations to the Lords of the seven foundational attributes – nig-amyn taspe – nog-itseref, neg-ogozno, nag-ilag, nog-irape, yn-ogedo, tas-koyasi, peam-orgumo lir – obedience, discipline, education, control, mastery, awe, and dissolution. I am but a pilgrim on my way to the Underworld. I have come to bid you well as is set out in Zleba Hava·róth before going on my journey into darkness, and cold, and oblivion. And so, I shall fall silent before departing in peace.”

 

They delight in making their committed followers – adventurers, canons, commanders, consultants, councillors, counsellors, deans, demagogues, elders, outcasts, professors, rapscallions, slaves, and quacks – abase themselves as they struggle to justify the existence and hateful actions of the self-absorbed slave-drivers {Self-Reflection}. They will offer tempting invitations to commune with them, raise expectations, distort and manipulate beliefs, promise ancient documents containing “reality fiction” which tell the history of the future, and give partial information to drive those who engage with it mad. I remembered too, however, that Hlodeh had become a pillar of chalk in the wake of the treachery, which exploded when it absorbed one of Shekhis’ tears, spreading through the All-World the magic that had enabled me to come to this place. Furthermore, I had studied all their weaknesses in detail, and come to know my own only too well, and so I hoped against hope to prevail as they drawled:

 

“Only we can sit and speak with the dead from the Other Side of the Veil who do not understand time or space because everything there is one, and share bread with them, and hear tales about the forgotten ancestors in their mute land deep below the black mud, thousands of centuries’ travel away. We have delved down so deep into the earth where there is no light at all in the pitch-black of the eternal night. And that is why we truly are the Majestic Masters of all existence. And there, in the abyssal depths, we found the primaeval black liquid, substance of death and life, the All-World’s ordure, remains of millions ancient extinct species. And we’ve used this to build New Worlds and populate them.”

 

And so, the Ancient Divinities lounged, crafty but ignorant, like cruel feral predators slavering over their prey, their stinking breath poisoning the foul air, and their black claw-like toenails threatening to burst out of their ill-fitting two-tone shoes. The cheap pinstripe suits with blood-red carnations in the lapels, the fedoras, and the poisoned stilettos up their sleeves made them seem like the most brutish Members to be found in Government House, the Big Furry Dogs and the Fattest Cats who love gobbling the red meat of the common-folk, and who would sacrifice the All-World without a doubt to live for one second longer even if they were under an irrevocable death sentence. I realized that I had to acknowledge them, and then declare their characteristics, their abilities, and their names:

 

“Here am I in the Court of the Harsh Planet. Lo! The rulers of the place appear, who are not people, nor animals, not spirits either, but some wondrous combination of the three things, magical beings with personalities most similar to those of fabled beasts. First comes the Lord Lusave, the hunter, like a water-horse, and his sister Thevenathu the musician in the form of a wine-dust-bird. This is Lusave who came to exist in three other aspects, namely as Sasali the teacher, Selehi the thief, and Falesi the butcher.”

 

I was being overwhelmed by the stench and the hysterical, hypnotic atmosphere, and starting to panic. But then there leapt into my mind an image of my hero, the Blessed Kolaza Vrasika, Lady of the Oil. I remembered then that she was famous for calming choppy seas, conjuring lubricant and fuel from nothing, feeding lepidoptera larvae and charming honeybees with delicious nectar, and causing and curing cancer and a host of other ailments. And that put the seed of a plan in my head. They, however, retorted:

 

“The whole pre-history, history, present, and future of every civilization is a hateful record of affliction, brutality, destruction, disease, famine, filth, horror, immorality, literary vomit, massacre, plague, pornography, prodigality, terror, and war. Here’s how to save the Cruel Eyrth and transform the All-World! Be clever! Grow up! Become an adult with dirty hands! Give up looking for inspiration in some imaginary place like a stinky little kid.”

 

At this juncture, with a flash of inspiration from beyond, I knew I should be ready to offer them presents that I summoned to appear from my imagination. Here are some examples for you: sorrel, acorns and other nuts, yamboo fruits, white flowers of the yulan, fat berries full of blood-red flesh, wrinkled cress, branches of sloes bursting with juice, whortleberries, plums, and speckled eggs. They then tried to capture my imagination by promising intellectual baubles of all kinds:

 

“You’ll learn instead to trust in numerology, in logic, and in the magic and wonder of numbers. We’ll explain to you priceless wisdom, hold forth about gems of scholastic sophologia, and teach you beautifully painful lessons full of axioms, casuistry, idioms, laws, maxims, principles, reductiōnēs, rules, truisms, pithy quotations, and proverbs, if you’ll listen.”

 

But I would not let them hamper my oration, nor stem the outpouring of my largesse. I conjured for them: piles of browned sausages, salads, custard, rhubarb, olives, rabbit pie, smoky spit-roasted venison, and cups of strong black tshay. Whilst allowing the sweet but incredibly complex words to drop from my lips, I concentrated on making them rejoice, and perhaps I hoped I would manage to charm them, lessen their cares, and lull them to sleep, and I went on:

 

“Second, comes Nuhuthi, the farmer, in the form of a white sow or an albino boar, and with his sister Ehefi, the smith, who looks like a bony mare. This is Nuhuthi who changes from being a man to being a woman every other year, since he stared at the face of the Fickle Moon for too long when he was a child. Third, come the brothers Urozi, the scholar, like a flaming black dog, and Ithesi, the sorcerer, in the form of a flying water-beast. Last comes Nesefi, the sailor, sister to Thuhuthi, in the form of a water-leaper.”

 

They lack conscience, empathy, integrity, and morality, are ethically dislocated, and are yet untouched by the slightest shadow of blame, shame, or guilt. They trample on decency and desecrate good faith with the unwavering belief that responsibilities and consequences do not matter, and that they are above the rules and untouchable. As a result, they are disdainful and indifferent to criticism, trapped in a pathocracy of their own making. I gave them: an orchestra of big bass drums; armour-plated pumpkins; booby-trapped candlesticks; dustpans and brushes; piles of loot, lucre and treasures; miscellaneous occult items; sausages, chips, ketchup and gallons of frothy white khawví; stolen account-books; thousands of king-size sheets; and umbrella-syringes. The flow of words continued in the same vein, as they murmured and posed:

 

“We’ll show you how to control the body, damn the flow of mental energy, and use the will to drive the imagination. Then it’s you who’ll create the patterns, commanding day and night, sun and moon, spring and wilderness, city and family, law and song, in our names. You’ll change the All-World to conform with your ideas under our leadership and with our counsel. So, in the end, you’ll be able to rid yourself of conscience, embrace unfettered progress, and spark Societal Revolutions. Who knows, with our help, it’s likely that you’ll manage to abolish all the hateful disorder caused by all those awful unruly forces: women and men; south and north; fertilizing and bearing, working and building; breath and soul, water and fire. And as a result, you’ll be a World-King, joining us in our Perfect Kingdom of harsh beauty and heavenly propriety.”

 

Beware the masters who claim they want to be comrades; they know you too well and wish to conquer you and control you! Guard against the snakes under the innocent flowers! They are an embodiment of the fact that beings of genius never as a rule consider the lives of those they shatter through their negligence. Be wary of the fine words of those merciless wolves in sheep’s clothing, who spin barefaced lies in claiming they are fallen angels! Take heed! – If you pity them or feel fear, they will destroy you on the spot! I said:

 

“And so, in the name of Zundlakla whom no-one mentions, the bond-servant who became a willing sacrifice, and succeeded in ruling and releasing the others, I declare: Display your glory! – Kluzvlé, the bonfire that’s always consuming; Devdnutí, whose slothfulness tames every power; Tlemblé, the tempest who bellows all over; Mundumgí, the essence that both feeds and kills; Khultzira, the void-space who’s ceaselessly boiling; Izlentlí, the energy filling all nooks; and Memblenzlí, the river that cannot be halted.”

 

They, chuckling and wringing their hands, said:

 

“With our help, you’ll create very effective drugs from addictive spice, new forms of technology to warp bodies, and anti-social media to snare minds, and use them to achieve great miracles. You’ll catch the thoughtless, corrupt the strong, and feed on the souls of the great and the small alike. Peoples and Worlds will come to believe that life is pure torture, and that suffering is the inevitable fate of all, especially the least. Everyone – the mighty and the puny, the wise and the foolish, the rich and the poor, the grave and the lively, the pure and the debased – will have to accept this pain without complaining. You’ll turn the ineffective battlefield called society into an efficient slaughterhouse to supply the things we need. Every race – Mbdzu, Zrghlé, Ldndo, Mnmna, Nkndlu, Zlghba, and Lkghru – will take part just as ferociously as the other. You’ll persuade them to worship us using perplexing rites involving an enormous cauldron of green brass. And then, you’ll cause the Last Days to arrive.”

 

You must bear in mind that the Old Masters will threaten you, tell lies to try and hoodwink and mislead you, harass you, play all kinds of cruel tricks, and use your love and your hopes against you to turn you from your task and put you in the Dark Dream. I finished my declamation, saying:

 

“It is I, Zundlakla, the desert that covers its face, who declare the names of the Seven Sorcerers: Kluzvlé and Devdnutí, Tlemblé and Mundumgí, Khultzira, Izlentlí, and Memblenzlí. And it is I who publish and confirm that by winning one loses, and he who fails shall win!”

 

I produced: the anguished voices of children at death’s door fading to nothing, beds of polished copper mesh, gold and onyx tables, icicles that will freeze the oceans, invisible ink made of sulfate of quinine, ivory chairs, the scaly whiteness of a leper’s hands, shrouds for all those who would die in the next year, and twenty-seven volumes of forgotten lore. Fidgeting terribly, they whispered:

 

“You’ll be the one who brings the inevitable, prescribed, calamitous fate to every globe that contains the unendurable abomination of impure societies, spreading discipline as tender as steel. Entire Worlds will become herds of pure, innocent, terrified sacrificial bulls – be they Thorlin, Delkurí, Deklo, Humankind – and using them we’ll feed each other! You shall be the presiding priest, wielding the deadly knife. You’ll rip our enemies to shreds; squeeze out their life-force with an iron fist; boil their remains in an enormous cauldron; feast on their guts; chew their bones; and put their ashes on the fire. Through this continuous human sacrifice, we’ll remain immortal, and maintain the ability to steer everything in the Two Worlds. And their well-deserved screaming will open the Painful Path to the Other World.”

 

Although I was frozen almost to death by the grisly visions awoken by their over-the-top oration, I next tried to change the direction of proceedings and began to set my trap for them, teasing them like this:

 

“My Most Esteemed Lords and Ladies, you know everything worth knowing. However, despite your prodigious powers you have not noticed various important facts yet which I grasped long ago, even though I am so small and so insignificant compared with you. These hidden things I have learned from the teachers kfoive-Vueluguig and Ahoekasawf who counsel that we must discard confused mental concepts and the mistaken impressions of our senses in order to connect fully with the entire, undifferentiated, raging, procreative energy of the All-World.”

 

The Loathsome Lords’ behaviour is always naive, idiotic, complacent, cavalier or arrogant. They delight in creating laws only to shred them, precipitating crises, celebrating folly as if it were totally reasonable, destroying faith, and poisoning ancient truths. They carried on prattling:

 

“You shall be our favourite puppet queen, ruling on our behalf over an age of stunning materialistic progress as soft as an amoeba’s protoplasm, which will spawn esoteric cults mixing science, symbolism, sour chuckling, terrible fear, incomparable satire, and the occult. Be brave enough to accept your fate and ready to become one with us, the Seven Seraphic Sorcerers and then we shall rejoice together. Come! You’ll just have to give yourself up and do a few little things. Kneel before us, eat these life-giving seeds, and you’ll feel the sorrow and share in the pain of every living thing. Sacrifice yourself! By dying, you’ll be born again! Jump, jump into this cauldron of green brass. Then you’ll be our Faithful Servant, and we’ll be your Masters, and will be able to welcome you in glory. And after that we’ll feed you and cause you to flourish.”

 

Then I set before them: sheaves of golden barley, firkins of curdy cheese, melons, marrows, earthenware jars of sack, porcelain pots of foamy lager, cakes, cold cucumbers, elderberry wine, molasses, mushrooms, and honey from mountain-bees. I carried on, discoursing as follows:

 

“From Kehtuhw Fawh, and Knefulig, I have come to understand that only through the practice of ‘hey-pístis’ or faith we can obtain dark knowledge, ‘hey-gnówsis.’ From this viewpoint it would be fair to say that answers are more important that questions, and there will be no response at all to the very best enquiry. After all, with regards to discovering and revealing foundational truths, ‘ars est cēlāre artem,’ as the Etruscan sages on my World used to say so perspicuously.”

 

They in turn rejoindered:

 

“Only we can save you from drowning in the infinite lake of imagination and the bottomless sea of speculation. Only we will succeed in pulling you back from coming into contact with the primal chaos that likes under the surface of everything and getting lost for ever. We will direct you while you steer the creation of the future. Then you’ll be able to commit with impunity and profit from the seven sins leading to violence, that is: getting wealth without working, glutting on pleasure without pangs of conscience, seeking knowledge without strength of character, doing business without morals, using science without humanity, celebrating faith without sacrifice, and playing politics without principles.”

 

I brought forth then berries, birch, birds, fish, frogs, horned mammals, lichen, mosses, snails, willow, and worms; skin-drums, elk-femur flutes, sacred stardust maracas, stone glockenspiels, and moon-shine sandwiches. I asserted:

 

“Here ye this! You are not, each one of you who is multiple but empty, the same as I, since my life is so fragile and strange. Behold me, the woman, who is enslaved to the body and the face; stare upon me – a being who is bound by living, and dying, and the flow of time – and weep!”

 

I gave them next: goblets of spice-mead, mugs full of viscous tar-black honey-wine, oatcakes soaked in liquor, grain from the granaries of the Great Eastern Desert, tobacco and cherry-wood pipes, bacon-flitches, lamb-chops, and big ripe yams. They were almost leaping on the mossy stones as they declared:

 

“Together, we’ll build a palace where there are rivers of tears, ivory towers, caves full of obsidian spiders, and gem-studded woods, experiencing every pleasure and indulging every vice. Come, drink the nectar, eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, so you’ll live for ever rather than die, turn to dust, and be forgotten. You’ll learn to turn your back on the human senses and manipulate the mental sparks, which’ll let you open a gate to so many Worlds, walking the paths of the mute, following the streets of the deaf, and treading the paths of the blind, uniting your will with our appetites. You’ll sacrifice the other on the altar of the self, covered with purple velvet, exchanging trillions of lives for all of creation, so that you shall be the lock and the key, the One who can open the Doleful Gate and stride over the Starry Path towards the Southern Reach. You will be the creator who becomes one with his actions, fashioning stupendous new Worlds. And there, truth will blow hither and thither on the wind of our desire.”

 

When I had attracted their attention like this, I placed before them other objects such as: flint bowls, stone griffons, flower-boats, spider-webs of green glass, and statuettes of sombre ice-gods, saying:

 

“Here, in your midst, in your City of Broken Dreams, I name you, seeing, and hearing, and feeling the words changing as soon as they come out of my lips: Lusave and Thevenathu, Nuhuthi and Ehefi, Urozi, Ithesi, and Nesefi. I have listed your successes, your weaknesses, and your failings. It is I, Thuhuthi, the fool who knows the truth, who proclaims and ratifies like a three-headed dragon that constant mutation is the nature of all things, and that every thing that is begun, will also end.”

 

Then, as we all loitered amongst the razor-sharp alien grasses, the bruised mouldy boulders, and the stunted shrubs stinking of ammonia, they responded:

 

“You’ll be the one to leave behind the shattered city, the poisoned forest, the moribund sea, and the moonless, starless night sky, and depart through the ghost-door to the place of phantoms. Then, before you on the enormous field called the Doleful Plain, the awful altar will appear, an enormous structure of black marble in the form of a truncated pyramid, where the future’s most worthwhile hopes and dreams are put in order and organised by us. This’ll be the start of the final test. A thunder-bolt and the peal of a leaden trumpet will split the tacky heat filled with the foggy cloud of unknowing. The void will open, with a violet glow and ozone stink, making a breach in space and time and spreading frustration and angst. Lighting will pass through the sky on the left, forking towards the right. You’ll see that mortal existence is just a shivering flash, but one full of spiritual energy. And then it’s you yourself who’ll be making sacrifice with a knife, and waiting for the beast to be killed, and chopping up the body, and putting it in the flames of the fire to burn as a burnt offering to the Old Masters, so that we all shall feast on the tasty flesh in perpetuity.”

 

I produced for them: white silk handkerchiefs; the root of a putty-orchid; a loaf of black bread baked by me; massage-oil containing distilled spring flowers and secret chemical extracts; a fistful of soil I had rolled about in stark-naked under the light of a blood-moon; the song of a nest of toads; and a vial of sunshine I had collected on the top of the Jadeite Hills. Having had piqued their interest so much, I thought I should go on to tempt them further by suggesting:

 

“As pleasant as Springtide are you, the ‘lūsūs nātūrae,’ as comforting as Summertide, as fruitful as Autumntide, and as terrifying as Wintertide. I am an insect-like dwarf compared with you, who struggles, lusts, fights, betrays, sickens, plays, laughs, works, enjoys, and dies. But then again, it is I who am overflowing with creative power, whist you cannot imagine, or innovate, or produce. It is I who can procreate and kill, according to need and desire, whereas you merely reorganize elements already existing, you who are compelled to feel that reforming and perfecting are the only true magical activities. After all, you, the Dire Old Masters, have always striven to keep everything perfectly stable, and pristine, and utterly unchanging, whilst longing in secret to die, in order to escape from your eternally boring and frustrating existence.”

 

When they are caught out, they immediately begin lying, making excuses, harping on about technicalities, denying, digressing, distracting, minimising, justifying, changing the subject, or blaming others. I created for them: cauldrons, ice-buckets, kettles, knives, napkins, saucepans, and tablecloths; sacks of beans, flour, and gravy-browning; mint chocolates and strawberry jam. They continued like this:

 

“You will be Adauvam Dlndva the Son with a strong voice, yelling out the sentence over the puny body of the Father, Ishakí Zlnklé. And then, swimming in a river of fire without being consumed, you’ll turn the knife on him, and shove the sharp dagger into the old blighter’s chest without delay, and slash him, to release incredible forces. To possess unlimited power, you’ll throw all your enemies into the pinewood bonfire at the same time.”

 

I steeled myself and remembered that I had chosen the active path. I knew it would be essential for me to avoid stammering or stumbling, even whilst facing the deadliest danger. I loaded them with presents such as: feathers of the raven, the goldeneye, and the snowy-owl; fiddles, mouth-organs, tambourines, and triangles from a fairy-orchestra; finned birds, gold-plated playing cards, photographs of furry ancestors, scraps of scarlet satin, and stilted fish. And after this, I tried to fill them with rabid envy, by adding:

 

“You cannot eat life, nor drink it, nor put it in your pipe, nor wear it like a rain-coat, nor make love to it, nor burn it to keep you warm, amidst all the ageing, the death, the sin, the tribulation, and the procreation. But despite that, so sweet and lovely is fornicating and harming, damaging and mending, guzzling and quaffing, building and smashing, inventing and destroying. Observe how much the least person can create by noting that when I die, sooner or later, an enormous number of paltry things will die with me, such as my voice and appearance; my worries, fears, and hopes; the love and hate belonging to my best friends and my worst enemies; the smell of incense filling my lungs as I purify my private temple; and the image of every instant I have ever experienced, from the first moment that I came into the Gorgeous, Grieving World, to the last one when I shall depart for good. But despite that, in the All-World’s memory, you shall see that an immense number of actions begun by me, big and small, will remain, create effects, and echo to eternity. So, I indeed can instigate such tumult, tragedy, and joy, although I am so fragile and disappear so soon!”

 

Their pride apes humility as they answer official questions with barefaced lies that they judge to be bally wonderful and all-encompassing (which are, in truth, longwinded and utterly vacuous), regarding all their misdeeds from pathological negligence in public office to corporate manslaughter. I set before them: leaf-birds, light-shadows, and black-bag bats; cakes containing the colour of khawví, the smell of blood, and lark-vomit; and a goblin organ with multicoloured keys, aluminium pipes, and whirling tantalum cogs, similar to a steam-engine or threshing-mill. They persevered:

 

“Through the strength of our inventions, you’ll extinguish everything made in the Two Worlds, all the filth, disobedience, and disgusting disorder, leaving only the fresh sprigs of rebirth in the dusty ruins of tragedy. You’ll open a door to a Pure Technological World where every object is well-wrought, delightful, perfect, where every idea, word, and image is unique, unmistakable, and unambiguous. This you’ll accomplish in the secret names of the Seven Most Cruel Divinities: Las-ven, Kas-las, Nek-vas, Sak-sal, Ven-sak, Sal-kas, and Nev-las. And the air shall be filled with our wild cackling.”

 

Their legate is a living breathing wig with its tongue shoved so far up the lords-and-masters’ arsehole it can scarcely utter the usual obsequious sycophancy [1]. And by being forced to observe such ugliness day after day, the populace begins to behave repulsively, turning towards evil. I created the taste of pumpkin, the sharpness of a flint-shard, the despair of a demon, the scent of a woman, and the stubbornness of an ass; lacy bonnets, satin earmuffs, linen sheets, and velvet scarves; and casual sounds that appeared important and meaningful. Then I said:

 

“Every individual contains all the Thorlin, the whole race from its inception until its end although the majority do not realise this. The life of the Thorlin is a glittering spiral that wants to expand unimpeded to illuminate the All-World, and wondrous enlightenment is granted to those who seek the highest places. This is light that has not existed on the land nor in the heavens, the poets’ hope and the peasants’ dream. This brightness contains some influence, unusually ancient, unseen, unknown, and mysterious, lacking eye or mind, which is at work from very far away in the blood circulating through our veins, bringing the angst of the majestic, moribund ocean, as well as the sunshine, the mist, the currents, and the spray. In warm twilight, the future waits silently for us to live wisely and shine the light further, the last chord of some anthem too wistful to understand completely echoing back to us through the flesh and bones of space-time.”

 

They shout from the rooftops that trust is the most valuable thing in public life whilst squandering it so profligately, having perfected government by press-release. They insist they will put loving arms around the people (to crush them, choke them, and steal from them), and put a protective ring around them (to entrap them, oppress them, and kill them). They delight in rewriting the rules set down in red ink on sulfurous papyrus to allow law-breaking in limited and specific ways whenever necessary, to save their own skin (and their monstrous egos) by deleting every reference to honesty, integrity, transparency and accountability. Then, they rejoice in waving bottles around containing their human sacrifices’ hot blood before quaffing it down until they are drunk as skunks in the midst of the slaughter. However, despite all my best efforts, I was shocked and chilled to the bone when they addressed me bluntly like this:

 

“It’ll make no difference if you succeed in breaking the secret code, solve all the riddles, and learn and interpret and the names of the archangels. You’ll come to the conclusion only too soon that they’re just common-or-garden words created by human beings. The key is that not a single one of them’s magical. Not one syllable will work even if you sing them out loud with the purest magical intention. You’ll see that soon enough, at the cost of your life!”

 

I struggled to recover myself, putting before them several forbidden things: the fake smiles on the many faces of a senior chief administrative dean of unbelievable activities and inconsequential outcomes who used to wear so many hats that neither he (nor anyone else) knew who he was anymore; a small gilded fetish of an old woman with a sickle on top of a box full of springs and brass wheels which distorts time; a bottle liquified spite distilled from the auras of arrogant bullies who were experts in physical torture and numerological obfuscation and used to moonlight as renowned necromancers, feasting on souls; and an odd mirror with orange and white stripes which burns the skin before fragmenting and melting away like a thick liquid evaporating in black smoke, warping space. I told them:

 

“Hear me now! This is the Insoluble Riddle of Existence. The theoretomancers of Anopgalvwa teach that the Perfect came into the World to allow us to know it. They say that plus-one is creating, minus-one is destroying, and zero is the sum-total of the All-World. The All-World produces Power, which brings forth Law, from which comes Principle, which defeats Injustice – ‘fol lu pol lu re lu hu lu ru pafabi.’ Furthermore, S’hup-S’hep propounds the Dialectics of Futility, namely that something comes from adding nothing to nothing, if one knows how to add correctly; whilst Zitté strongly denies that anything at all derives from nullity. By meditating on these holy opposites, I have determined that Perfection is the square-root of minus one, which cannot be grasped by mortal minds, whilst Evil is finite and comprehensible. Truth is odd, and untruth is even. Because of this, by adding falsehood to veracity one creates truth; and by multiplying truth with falsity one fashions fallacy [2]. In addition to that, two rights will never make a wrong; but it is possible for two wrongs to make a right. That is why truth, like conscience, is always naked. Explain the following to me, therefore, if you please, Most Illustrious Leaders: What is the true nature of combining and separating? And what is the essence of ruling and submitting? After all, it is you who understand that ‘maybe’ is a better word than ‘yes’ or ‘no,’ and that asking questions is the beginning of wisdom in terms of turning everything to your own advantage. Come! Take! Eat! Drink! Who will have what?”

 

These are the greatest pedants, who run the Demonic Cosmo-telegraphy Company. They produce and broadcast misinformation in perplexing dialects designed to bewilder linguists from age to age whilst ensnaring minds. Through this, they enforce alien and occult systems full of definite but illusory facts on people to infect them with questions and complaints This makes the sure feel unsure and opens the door to doubts that no-one but the ministers of the manufactured faiths, the con-men, the fortune-tellers, the dream-interpreters, and the members of the esoteric experiment crew can hope to answer. And as a result, their vassals become flesh-engines which transmit and magnify the hellish vibrations without understanding them. I presented to them next: the Ancient Mariner’s crossbow, the ash of the forefathers of the Seven Lost Races, the black pigs of Death, diamond crowns set with eyes gouged out by tail of a flying horse, a hare carrying a perfect model of the All-World showing every profane massacre, a hovering bejewelled skeleton ringing bells to call the storm-demons to dance, the north wind carrying the green ocean’s fresh spray and the salty sweat of myriad galley-slaves, the twisted reflections from every shattered mirror that has even been, and the sounds of a joyful trek through the asphodel meadow. Peevishly, the Devious Demiurges started to bluster threats:

 

“How dare you question us, miserable creature, who knows nothing compared with us? It’s us who set the puzzles here, and create the rules. By now, every syntactographer and mentalist who’s played with us – and lost – is wallowing in the Well of Souls. To you, time is just a confusing sign of decay, something that feels like a continuum of lost instants, a reservoir of despair, a sea of unreal events, and the most incomprehensible element of the All-World. That’s why you don’t remember your old age, whilst pretending to relive your childhood. And there you are, still trying to debate using broken words, but failing to give names to the things you don’t understand or meaning to whatever’s beyond your pitiful intellect. Reality escapes from all your concepts like a golden sparrow flying away. When you try to discuss the chief abstract things – existence, living, dying, damnation, oblivion – you just prattle, jabbering random words with no meaning.”

 

Sensing that I was succeeding in goading them into losing their temper and their self-control completely, I produced for them many gifts befitting the greatest Sorcerers: fingernail and toenail clippings from a new-born baby; a rag, a bone, and a hank of greying hair from an ancient general’s corpse; a hand of glory; Arethefí’s traditional esoteric magnet; a magic-wand of weeping willow with a dragon’s feather as its core; and an artificial brain in the form of a winged woman made of un-melting ice, whalebone, silicone rubber, a stopped clock, a small re-forged dagger, and titanium-alloy springs. I said:

 

“I understand your concern and feel your pain, O Primates of the Purest Perfectionism! And out of respect for you I shall endeavour to be as precise as possible from now on, despite my inexcusable failings, as I crave your indulgence and beseech your aid. So, I note that in the first-times there were eight of you, the Éminences Grises, eight habitats, and eight modes of seeing: that is two to the power of three; that two is the first prime number, the only one which is also even, created by splitting unity into opposites; and that two to any power is even. However, after the treachery of the One Who Shall Not Be Named, that is Shekhis, there were seven, which is also a prime number. Numbers are the only reality. And by measuring things and then discussing them in terms of statistics one will gain correct knowledge on any topic. If one were to understand them perfectly in their union and their division, he could overcome the All-World. Now, see all this, and share the gifts I have provided!”

 

Only an exceptional force can show such contempt for the faithful who obey it whilst wallowing in the filthiest slime through an eternity of universal night. Needless to say, this power yearns to see not integrity but confidence, as the peons express the overseers’ will. Even the worst hypocrite would envy these cloud-brained masters for managing to steer the course of history using corrupt data, skewed samples, and defective information, and then blaming their staff whilst brawling, shagging, and throwing up in the middle of a lake of wine. I went on:

 

“Because of all that I have said, you will see that the Thorlin’s greatest suffering is caused by figures. For example, some have to calculate whether every number they come across is divisible by seven, while others organize everything according to triads [3]. The former tend to die before their time, and the latter to kill themselves. ‘Stultōrum īnfīnītus est numerus,’ say the despicable sages who fail to grasp Human suffering. I am very aware of these facts when I say that it is obvious that you possess momentously original minds, but note also that even the greatest can suffer from lamentable simplicity. You study us without seeing us; you listen to us, but you do not hear us; and so, you know about us but do not appreciate us. I ask you plainly: In all your majesty, will you not do this simplest thing and be willing to share the thoughts of an ant in order to expand yourselves beyond measure? For I am, I regret, a musician, not a mentalist, a numerologist, nor a hermeneutist. Come! Claim your part of the spoils!”

 

I proceeded immediately to tempt them with all kinds of rude things I knew they would never be able to resist having: toilet-brushes, nickers, and underpants; dozens of bedpans and meters of toilet-paper; the dirty sheets from the bed of a perverted priest who invented his own religion to continue sinning; and seven enormous red phalluses with yellow polka-dots. Of course, I arranged for all my gifts to appear as delicious, desirable, and indispensable to them, the Immodest Immortals, as possible. Nevertheless, they raged:

 

“Hear now the Vexatious Voice roaring amidst all the other chilling sounds: the bones crunching and blood boiling, the beetles ceaselessly whispering – er-chep, pech-re, er-pech, chep-re, pech-er, chep-er, re-pech; and the must-stained fantods howling at the warlike doves as the warty bogeys compute the fate of the All-World, their enormous, biological contraptions screaming! We promise this to you: you’ll regret casting spells. You’ll be punished like a rag-doll, your body torn to shreds but not killed. And to your great terror, you’ll understand that we are the Masters, and there’ll be nothing for it but to obey. But like a dead woman who’s not carrying two coins in her mouth as an offering, you’ll not be able to go on. No matter if you swear and promise in vain, praying for respite, and solace, and oblivion, for you are a worthless insect. This is what you’ll be then: a broad laden with possessions, and wealth, and parchments, driven by a lame mule along the boundary between life and death. And then you’ll tumble to drown in the river between the kingdoms of being and non-being but without ever being able to depart.”

 

At the first opportunity, however, they sniffed my offerings, redolent of asafoetida, black limes, black pepper, capers, caramel, cardamom, cassia, cloves, coriander, cocoa, cumin, ginger, nutmeg, paprika, praline, vanilla, and violets. As soon as they begin to squabble over the dainties, I offered them a very odd drink, containing grain alcohol, beef tshay, grenadine, cough syrup, valerian root, mugwort, and hoodwart [4]. Then then became like swarthy porkers fighting to sup from the sow’s teats, slobbering wide-eyed, bawling. I replied, as civilly as I could:

 

“Although I do not understand your superb genius, I see the problem with thinking as quickly as you the Seven Seraphic Sorcerers. And so, I beg leave to bring this little matter to your sublime attention so that you can become more perfect. I wish only to help you, for I believe that you, the Divine Beings, are committing the logical error of ‘ignōrātis elenchum.’ That is why ‘yes’ is mistaken for ‘no,’ untruth is exchanged for certitude, and illusion replaces reality and vice-versa. Come, taste these amazing delicacies, do not waste a morsel! And be sure to have a tipple of this scrumptious scintillating concoction before it is all gone. Good heath, and down the hatch!”

 

That was the start of a shocking carousal that would stimulate regression and disintegration. The Terrifying Tormentors began slavering over the gifts, clapping their hands, stamping their feet, humming tunelessly, and writhing painfully. The sound, like the murder of entire cultures taking place in Alternate Worlds millennia away, grew, causing my wounds to throb as if I were standing in a pool of devouring flame spilled from the heart of the Resplendent Sun. I added:

 

“I must speak truth to power, and so I shall share several crucial ideas. Vzdrl’s Kataphysics teaches the following regarding the Latent Obscure. Goodness is the necessary, hideously symmetric reflection of badness. This foundational hermaphroditic dualism gives birth through insight to good to a certain extent, or at least to indifference. The child is like the legendary six-headed, six-tailed serpent, and the majority fight to imprison the new-born monster in the rational blood of the vitreous palace where it will stay until it gets old and drowns in the sea of time. Furthermore, the Pantachemy of Thofolothatho Alanenani adds this. The sound ‘A’ is the start of everything and so is greater than itself. It keeps on asking question after question whilst awaiting beyond space for evolution in a series of events through time. From this arise two operations. Plus (⊥) with its ternary nature is masculine, and Minus (—) with its binary nature is feminine. They are identical inasmuch as they are opposites, which unite, cancel, and give birth to Zero (ϴ), the seed of Time (H), the parent of Life (ח) [5]. Listen! Feast on that which is yours by right!”

 

Then, I saw them prancing about in the most absurd way, mocking every graceful dance there ever has been. They were somersaulting, turning cartwheels, and leaping with such little pleasure, whilst one whacked the other hard with various items, miming out acts of salacious and bestial violence, in between stuffing food into their mouths. I offered: the best hotdogs from the Elected Autocrat of All Meryk-land’s kitchen, pint-pots full of birch-sap wine (and pots of blood-red paint), and salad-bowls with hundreds of sugar-mice in them. They said, panting:

 

“Much harder to follow than the left-hand path is the right-hand one, which is so misleading to the unwary! It’s only us who can perform the heterodox magic using quasi-mechanical causation to compel absolute knowledge of the ‘verba ignōta’ and produce uniquely destructive weapons, pneumatic psycho-chemicals, unspeakably dangerously drugs, and magnificent contraptions to burn all of nature and annihilate time. Through necromantic doubling, you’ll use mirrors, darkness, and incomprehensible language from all the hypothetical novels to harness the spirit-energy of the inescapable light that sees everything. We’ll lead you to a forsaken spot and put in your hands an unreactive but unstable trigger and a catalyst to start the reaction. You’ll bring the random element from your unknown context to begin the process of ruthless rebuilding and implacable healing. And after destroying the World with blue flame that knows the name of everything, you’ll recreate it with pre-biotic grains, avoiding the mistakes and making a copy better than the original. Come on mun, you who fear dying so much: join us, or you’ll be so sorry!”

 

The cruel motions, the twitching and the spasming, caused them to sob out loud as if all the Worlds were ending, their voices full of panic and hysteria. In the end they were moving so quickly, snarling and thrashing about, snorting and moaning, that they created shadows that did not obey the normal laws and threatened to summon the primal slime to rise up and abolish all life in the City, as the mad and ecstatic tarantella pulled the place apart. And then I added:

 

“Forgive me, but I must continue! I am but a famished, needy she-creature, possessed and enslaved by blood, guts, money, shit, sweat, shagging, and piss. But, in my opinion, Your Totalities are suffering from Rwff-Shatalotte Anosognosia regarding your condition, and I understand why. In this unreal existence, here in this ‘mundus alter et īdem,’ amidst all the grandiose phantoms, it must be so easy for even yourselves to conclude that two plus two is five, more often than not. And then, when you see four fingers in front of your eyes, you will believe that there are five there. And if this is the only difficulty exercising you, I ask you who amongst you can hope to understand the dark thoughts darting about in the head of a fool such as I, who lacks history and memories since the past is so abhorrent, and is without hopes in the present as the future is so terrifying? Look! Seize what you are due!”

 

And so, the shadow of refulgent improbability began to cast foreign transformative magic over the ruined location, with them thinking they would live forever, having found endless freedom on the waters which are always moving beyond time and history and contain every instant at the same time. I conjured for them: the desolate cry of a blue heron, enormous spaghetti spoons made of rhodium-iridium alloy, the faithful love of a velvet ant, and mixed smells of mothballs, baby-powder, and newly-cut vetch. The Malicious Masters blustered:

 

“We’ll steal from you location, size, and definiteness, take away zest and instincts, importance and meaning, and annul wisdom and dignity, leaving nothing behind. Then, without you being able to see, we’ll mince your body in the middle of an unbearable flux of smells, memories, desires, and colours. You’ll go round and round, over and over without end, beginning things without being able to finish them, rediscovering the familiar, and re-experiencing old torments. Our words’ll be in your heart like engine oil and dense salt water, and our thoughts like burning fire in your bones. You’ll always be seen, from the farthest corners of the All-World, stark-naked, utterly impotent, and begging for mercy as you melt away to nothing before being reborn to suffer again.”

 

And there was I on the imaginary crossroads in the soil-less wilderness where every direction becomes one and other-worldly fugues enchant the senses, distract, and excite, existing in a space that was constricted and unbounded at the same time. I could but push on with my venture [6]:

 

“O Lords of Limitless Lamentation! Through your exquisite dialogue you have conjured before my mind such unexpected ideas and unthought-of images. And now I cannot but consider the never-changing clowns who cause to laugh all those who do not make themselves giggle, so that they can learn to rein in their fears. Let me ask you: Who makes the teary-eyed jesters chortle? Who can satisfy me? For, as I said before, there are no answers to the best questions. On the other hand, I may just be speaking rubbish due to my terrible fear. But then again, it is incontrovertible that sometimes even the silliest woman can speak sensibly to some extent in the midst of utter folly. And now, listen as carefully as possible, and believe you me: I say with complete confidence and total sincerity that I, in truth, always spin tissues of lies. Embrace the Method of Constant Satisfaction: take thoughtlessly, and devour with greed!”

 

As soon as I had put such a paradox before them, the Shabby Charlatans, utterly bewildered by my deranged logic, joined in with the Dance of Death that called up disorder, despair, upheaval, vinegary mirth, destruction, heedlessness, wretchedness, freezing blizzards, and loneliness, turning today to yesterday and deleting the future. . As they violated the shameful memory of the hyper-historical and extinguished the retrofuturistic’s crazed promises, they screeched:

 

“But you’ll have to endure. You’ll be plagued by shapeless conjectures, weird hopes and fears, unspeakable spasms, and portents of creation, change, and destruction, as well as torture by divinities, devils, angels, and every treacherous politician and unfaithful lover who ever lived! And in the middle of your agonizing tribulations, you will always remember that we hate you with a vengeance because you have not chosen to love us, the Most Magnanimous Magicians!”

 

It was as if there was a pile of dismembered corpses there, juggling their own limbs. Then, at the zenith of this disgraceful performance, so full of pride and lust – they disappeared – leaving nothing but empty rags, like shrouds heavy with mud, shit, and vomit, fluttering provocatively against the green sky. It felt like the half-light permeating the pitiful place had weakened in an instant, as the gloomy overgrown garden got colder, and the air-pressure simultaneously rose. All at once, the only sign of the Maniacal Ministers was their last curse echoing like a prolonged, tortured caterwaul through the hissing, foaming firmament:

 

“We are the Wonderous Wizards who’ve called you and raised you up from the depths though you’ve been so unwilling and slow to come. And it’s us who’ll cast you down like a rotting corpse into a bitterly cold snowy grave for eternity, where you’ll scarcely be able to move or breathe as you behold our glorious successes and increasing magnificence. And there you’ll beg in agony over stupendous aeons for a freezing death that will never come!”

 

I could not but believe there had never been anything in them, just dry bones excited by strong wills and voices like gusts from demonic bellows, wheezing:

 

“What a stinking poultice – you ugly moo – you pissy louse – you stupid llama – you two-timing trollop – what an ungrateful imp – you rotten old devil! GO TO HELL!”

 

And that is precisely when I knew I could slink past them and fly away like the wind. I also decided that this would be the correct time to entreat Tzluktnakhu and Johgotelo to appear. Although they are accustomed to fight with each other without respite, I hoped they would pull the others with them, and keep them from interfering with me further whilst I moved on. That is what I did, and that is what happened. But still the Odious Overlords demanded prizes from beyond the veil, desiring to possess all things in creation. And so, I kept on offering gifts according to “The Sunsong” or “A Davuth-e-Kanu,” the words of making flowing from me until I was completely spent —

 

“ … Bears, bees, buffalos, cockerels, crickets, dogs, goats, hens, horses, houseflies, lynxes, martens, mice, moles, moose, owls, polecats, pigs, rabbits, ravens, sheep, snakes, spiders, swans, thrushes, toads, worms …”

 

But when the time arrived to complete the litany and offer the Thorlin, I could not sing the name. Then, that very instant: a screech like acoustic feedback from a supernova, the long cold cry of a clarion, and a flash of heat from a fleshy kettle-drum. The hellish rhythms flowed through me without my knowing to start with, like a tune from afar, not classical, nor popular, nor jazz, jaunty and catchy but extremely menacing and chilling at the same time. And there was the spectre of the Venerable Absent One, who had been exiled to guard the Castle of Lost Causes with its towers full of eyes and beaks, and its horned and ear-strewn turrets. He came like silence in his mask of the most beautiful yellow leather and wearing a misty cope, turning his face away, keeping his lips closed and with his eyelids lowered. By appearing, mute and blind, he engendered in me a feeling of the deepest terror as the words filled me and possessed me, and, with utmost certainty, I realised I would never understand or control them —

 

Tha la safe fahe tha furulu;

Sizeni la ra nara la sifi;

Thuri the thi ropupaha hapi lisapa;

E thi tha a thi sali la leni the;

Poru punu ele tha ua la thi aha;

Afi ra seho uro uhufi life sesiha;

Filisi tha hui hafa tha leri thehe lo.

 

I had a choice. Broken and downhearted I began to vibrate the incantation over and over, and staggered forward towards the Fictive Folly, hoping that my voice would continue to work. And on the threshold between failing and succeeding, I, who had been violated, but had fought like a hyena to maim the cowardly cur of an attacker so terribly, said my own name, and gave myself, almost willingly, casting everything away.

 

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

[1] I have to mention here the Ratification Ritual of Kyning Kalkevork the Canny. This was the most costly occasion in Pretany's history up to then, and the most inexcusably profligate under the circumstances, especially given that there were people dying in the streets, selling their children, and eating their grandparents due to their adversity. The Monarch was bedizened in opulent fancy-dress consisting of: silk stockings, velvet breeches and buckled shoes of claret lizard-leather covered in diamonds, emeralds and rubies; a full-length, long-sleeved tunic of gold silk; a heavily-embroidered four-coloured linen stole; a robe of damask, ermine, satin and velvet; and fantastical headgear representing mastery over all the forces of nature as Titular Gerent of the Pink Empire and Commander-in-Chief-in-Waiting of the Holy Army. Inside the womb-like tent of cloth-of-gold borne by a host of chubby little aristocratic children, the Cosmopolitan Ceremonious had to pour consecrated oil from the blessed ampoule onto the sacred spoon (so it is said) [⁑]. Then (although no-one knows for sure) he anointed the Kyning with it on the hands, breast, crown, and every one of the nine royal orifices (and, say some heretics, kissed them tenderly), before prostrating himself and declaiming the new Inauguration Ex-Saltation (allegedly by Leskov): “All Praise to the Universal Lord; May the Inexhaustible Force Have Mercy on Us, the Most Unworthy.” (It wasn’t the Loose-Loined Loon who wrote and composed this of course, but Pete M. and Gertrude!). — Ff.Ll. [⁑] This is Pretany’s Patriarchal Prior [⁂] who declared that he was delighted that the Church had decided to accept in principle the notion of forgiving sins before death, but that it would be commanding its ministers to do no such a thing on practical theological grounds, since more useful than the delusive promise of temporary release from pain is the ever-present purifying shadow of guilt and shame. — D.B.P. [⁂] There was, clinging to his side, the Hereditary Champion of the Steely Ramod in her great golden spurs. Her office was to grease the palladium sceptre and fondle the ruthenium orb when the Most Refined and Gracious Sovereign was not toying regally with them. — P.M.

 

[2] I think Gertrude is trying to express the following mathemagical statements here, for integer values of a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, k, m, n, p: (i) [2a+1] + 2b = 2(a+b) + 1 = 2c+1; (ii) [2g].[2h] = 2(2gh) = 2k; (iii) [2d+1]+[2e+1] = 2(d+e+1) = 2f; (iv) [2g+1].[2h+1] = 2(2gh+g+h)+1 = 2k+1; and (v) [2m].[2n+1] = 2(2mn+m) = 2p. I don’t know what she intends by the other statements, although she was reading a lot in the mentalist Naxal and the hermeneutist Steykhweydos at the time. — P.M.

 

[3] Consider a number (e.g."ferox”), where the position of the symbol represents its base-10 place value as usual. Calculate the difference between twice the units digit (2x) and the rest of the number (fero). If this difference (i.e., |fero-2x|) is a multiple of seven, or is zero, the number is divisible by 7.— P.M.

 

[4] Gertrude told me on more than one occasion when we were alone that she’d added a couple of drops from the Eternal Pool of Mlomegwlo to the fiendish brew. — P.M.

 

[5] These are the Heladic characters “théyta” and “éyta” together with the Vrethian letter “khet.” — P.M.

 

[6] Gertrude was somewhat obsessed with the “Pseudómenon” or “Liar Paradox,” that is, self-referential statements like “The collection of X-ers that X all (and only) those who don’t X themselves.” She’d convinced herself that this had destroyed logic, leaving the Thorlin under a cloud of eternal ignorance. This idea helped to justify her belief that music was the only way to solve all the World’s problems. I tried to explain to her that such paradoxes were meaningless (according to the greatest minds in the land), since they don’t refer to anything beyond themselves in the real world. Some allege you should use an ordered system, where the concept of “true of false” is different on each level, and only statements on a higher level can talk about those on lower levels. There again, others shout that that’s utter nonsense. The latter say there’s no problem in the first place because every logical relationship already contains the pattern of what it describes, and so it’s impossible for it to refer to itself. No surprise that so many superlative mentalists go off the rails so often! But I love her music, anyway, no mistake about that. Maybe she was right after all! — P.M.

 

 

O “Lleisiau” gan y Chwaer Xerndru Volxndí

 

 

V. Y Ddeialog Ddieflig

 

Dechreuais gredu wedyn mai fy ngobaith cyntaf fyddai seboni’r Llithwyr Llarpiog, a’u canmol i’r cymylau. Penderfynais y cyfarchwn i hwy fel y dymunent a disgwyl, o eigion calon, fel duwdodau’r planedau, y pridd, yr afonydd, yr awyr, y tywydd, y gofod, ac amser, er bod eu bodolaeth yn llygru’r gorffennol a’r dyfodol, a bygwth y sêr, a nadu i’n Byd ni fod yn hapus na’n ddewr. Nid ymataliwn i rhag dywed mor fonheddig oeddynt, nac mor uchel eu clod, cymaint oedd eu deallusrwydd, eu medr, a’u gwybodaeth, mor nodadwy oedd eu campau, mor cymeradwy eu cyflwyniadau, nac mor rhyfeddol yr Ymerodraeth a greasant iddynt eu hun a’r meirwon oll, a reolent o’r Ddinas Baranoiaidd. Cyhoeddais yn glir fy mod wedi cyrraedd, gan ddywed:

 

“Areulder a braich gref ichwi, O Lestri Godidowgrwydd! Nid oes gen yr alltud na’r ffoadur wreiddiau, hyd yn oed yn eu gwlad ei hun. Yr wyf wedi syrthio trwy ddyfnderoedd anfesuradwy yn cynnwys Byd y tu mewn i Fyd. Rwy wedi nofio tros y cefnfor ac ymlwybro trwy’r fforest a’r jyngl, ac wedi cyrraedd o’r diwedd y grisiau o gorwndwm, yn llawn gwinwydd a ffwng, yn adfeilio ers milenia, sydd yn arwain at y man hwn yn dal chwysigen y presennol tragwyddol.”

 

Dyma’r rhaglywiaid gwarthus Mazid, Bavaz, Kemal, Havon, Dokuh, Vohur a Tuhom, sydd yn rheoli grymoedd difodiad, cynddaredd, dicllonder, drygioni, aflunieidd-dra, diddymdra ac annherfynoldeb o gadarnleoedd Taril, Zidun, Gamor, Sudom, Tharah, Khuleth, a Shilig. Mae eu pŵer unbenaethol, eu gorchmynion awdurdodus, a’u sefydliadau hierarchaidd labyrinthaidd yn gweithio i ddisodli’r rhai â dawn ddi-ail, creadigaeth ddihysbydd, a deallusrwydd anniffygiol, a dyrchafu ffyliaid ffyddlon a hurtynnod ymroddedig yn eu lle. Y rhain sydd yn malu cachu hwch yn ysgafala, yn rhugl, ac yn huawdl i gael hyd i, a chyflawni beth bynnag y mae ar y llywodraethwyr rhwysgfawr diog ei eisiau. Dywedais:

 

“Dyma adfeilion y Ddinas Ddisglair, y Nelvel brydferth, y Qo-higanom newydd. Ac yma, yn y noddfa hon, yr wyf wedi cael hyd i’r Rhai Aruchel, arglwyddi amwysedd, rheolwyr y cyflyrau rhyngol, duwdodau’r rhodd nefol, cymodwyr y brwnt a’r clodwiw, barnwyr y marw a byw. Chwi sydd yn Byw heb eich Geni, yn meddu ar gyrff amwys, nad ydynt y naill rywogaeth na’r llall, sydd yn uno pridd ac awyr, y dihalog a’r llwgr, nad ydynt yn noeth nac wedi dilladu, ac sydd yn cymryd ond nad ydynt yn meddiannu. Mor faróc o eclectig ydy’r fytholeg ymhle’r ydych yn ymgolli mor rhwydd, ymrithiad yr hen arwyr Zarlé, Folré, Davdí, Rilfé, Vensé, Kamthí, a Sovfí! Gyda dilyw anwrthsafadwy y gwnaethoch gymodi rhwng drygioni enbyd a’r lles cyffredinol, a gollwng darostyngiad i anufudd-dod marwol am byth.”

 

Mae cwningaroedd y Fiwrocratiaeth Fendigedig yn gartref i lond casgen o afalau drwg yn orlawn o absennu, ddelio amheus, gemau dominyddu gwallgof, nawddogaeth feidrol o ddrwg, slafdod cyfreithloni, trywanu yn y cefn, a chyfathrach rywiol anghyfreithlon ond angerddol rhwng cyflogwyr a gweithwyr. Yma, mae’n drewi o’r gyfaredd halogedig a’r hudoliaeth amhrisiadwy yn perthyn i bethau dibwrpas a wnaed dim ond at bleser, difyrrwch, a segurdod. Chwyddedig gan falchder ydy’r troseddwyr cyfreithlon yn cynnal y gyfundrefn lygredig, sydd mor llawn ohonynt eu hun eu bod yn analluog i deimlo cywilydd. Mae’r arweinyddion milain bob amser yn dwyn gwarth arnynt eu hunain trwy hel cynifer o gelwyddau nes bod y ffiniau rhwng ffaith a ffuglen ymddatod. Er gwaethaf hynny, mae’n amhosibl peri iddynt swilio wrth iddynt rofio bwyd, potian, a ffraeo, yn y ffradach hwn o swigen adfeiliog, hermetig yn llawn breintiau wedi’u hetifeddu, na fydd fyth farw. Mae ceisio rhyngweithio â hwy megis tynnu sgwrs â gang o blant anghymdeithasol surbwch yn eu harddegau sydd yn orlawn o hormonau ac yn cyfathrebu dim ond trwy rochian; brwydro i resymu â chriw afreolus dynion meddw neu dan ddylanwad cyffuriau yn chwifio bomiau cartref yn eich wyneb; neu stryffaglu i ddisgyblu haid o oedolion plentynnaidd ag uwchrymoedd sydd wedi’u maldodi’n arswydus. Ond er hynny oll, euthum ymlaen:

 

“Chwi sydd yn rheoli symudiad y sêr, atyniad disgyrchiant, a breuddwydion cenhedloedd yn y gorffennol a’r dyfodol, mor llawn dagrau. Chwi sydd yn llywio llaw anweledig amser, y peintiwr gorau a rhiant trawsffurfio sydd yn dysgu pob Dewin. Dyma fi ar drothwy’r Tŷ Glas, yr uffern o aeaf, ble mae’r fflamau tragwyddol yn amgylchynu pob glôb yn chwyrlïo. Yma, rwy’n clywed cerddoriaeth swynol yn lled-ddiamcan, ailadroddus ac annynol, yn ystumio’r onglau oll i ffurfio geometreg anhygoel. Oddi yma y bydd y teithiwr yn sicr o syrthio i lawr i luosogrwydd anfeidrol o Fydoedd os bydd yn ei ildio ei hun i’r atyniad cryfaf a neidio i’r agendor, gan daflu ei gorff ymaith megis maneg front i ddod yn enaid heb gnawd yn ddall ac yn wyllt. Yma, canol union y dydd a’r nos fydd hi’n wastad, yr awr honno heb gysgod, nac yn dywyll nac yn olau, amser gweledigaeth a datguddio, pan na fydd dim yn symud er gwaethaf storom newid yn taranu’r tu hwnt, wrth i chwi Fwbachod Blys ymgynghori ymhlith y cerrig byw.”

 

Mae’r Duwdodau Erchyll yn hen lawiau ar eu cuddio eu hun fel begonias ymhlith maes rhosod, poinsetias, pabïau, tiwlipau, a phetwnias, wrth ddarlledu’u signalau rheoli fel arogleuon cyfoglyd o felys trwy’r aether. Ar y dechrau na clywn i hwy, wrth imi sefyll yno’n rhaffu gweniaith. Meddyliwn i wedyn mai myfi a fyddai’n chwarae rhan Shekhis y meistr ar losgi, a gynllwyniai yn eu herbyn unwaith yn llechfan dandwr Mulond, nes iddo gael ei fradychu gan Hlodeh yr ysbïwr dwbl o daeog a’i dro’n eilun byw. O’r diwedd y dechreuasant eu hymosodiad geiriol arnaf trwy ddywed:

 

“Ni yw’r Awdurdodau Gorwych! Y ni yw Arglwyddi’r Cynddelwau Daroganol Hunangynhyrchiol a’r Anomaleddau Tanbaid, sy’n meddu ar y gallu rhagorol i ysgwyd yr Holl Fyd, a dylanwadu’n uniongyrchol ac anuniongyrchol ar bob un o rymoedd natur, ac o’r synhwyrau, gan beri effeithiau a ailddigwydd drosodd a thro, a saernïo a newid realedd.”

 

Yr oedd gan y Saith Hen Feistr aeliau cuchiog, trwchus, a dannedd hir melyn, yn ogystal â blew tenau dros eu cyrff i gyd a thagellau bwystfilaidd, er na allwn i ddirnad yr olaf yn syth. Erbyn i chi gyrraedd y Tŵr Gwrthdroëdig sydd yn gartref i’r Deml Anghysegredig, ni fydd gwahaniaeth a ydych yn credu’n ffyddlon yn yr endidau lledrithiol hyn. Parhasant hwy, yn ddilewyrch:

 

“Croeso i ti, deithiwr llesg, sy wedi dod mor bell i fod yma! Ymlacia, stopia boeni, ac ymddirieda ynon ni. Falle galli di roi’r gorau wedyn i fwrw ymlaen drwy’r amser heb feddwl, a chael saib, a dadansoddi pethau’n gywir, yn hytrach na phoeri yn wyneb bywyd fel gweddill dy dras druenus di.”

 

Dyma’r Lygrwyr Mawr. Maent yn anghyfrifol, didostur, egoistaidd, hunandwyllodrus, maleisus, megalomanaidd, seicopathig, ac ystrywgar. Maent yn drewi o synnwyr haeddiant wynebgaled, a chynhyrchion andwyol rhagorfraint. Mae’r Chwaer Xonuxa wedi honni mai hwynt-hwy sydd yn herwgipio’r darpar-Hudol o’r Ddaear yn blentyn, a dysgu cyfrinachau ocwlt iddo, cyn dileu’r cofion, dim ond i adael dysgedigaeth gêl wedi’i chloi yn ei feddwl. Pan gyraeddasant ymhlith holl rodres a gor-wagedd eu Byd anwir, cyfarchais hwy felly:

 

“Hawddamor i chwi rithiau hunan-greedig, mawreddog! Yr wyf yn eich adnabod a’ch cyfarch! Henffych well i Arglwyddi’r saith priodoledd sylfaenol – nig-amyn taspe – nog-itseref, neg-ogozno, nag-ilag, nog-irape, yn-ogedo, tas-koyasi, peam-orgumo lir – ufudd-dod, disgyblaeth, addysg, rheolaeth, meistrolaeth, arswyd, a diddymiad. Dim ond pererin wyf fi ar fy ffordd i’r Isfyd. Yr wyf wedi dod i gyfarch gwell i chwi fel y’i gosodir allan yn Zleba Hava·róth cyn mynd yn fy mlaen ar fy nhaith i dywyllwch, ac oerni, ac ebargofiant. Ac felly y tawaf fi, cyn ymadael mewn hedd.”

 

Maent yn ymhyfrydu mewn peri i’w dilynwyr ymrwymedig – alltudion, anturiaethwyr, cadlywyddion, caethweision, canoniaid, caridýms, cwnselwyr, cynghorwyr, demagogiaid, deoniaid, henaduriaid, proffeswyr, ymgynghorwyr, ac ymhonwyr – ymddarostwng wrth iddynt gyfiawnhau bodolaeth a gweithgareddau ffiaidd y caethfeistri narsisaidd. Byddant yn cynnig gwahoddiadau deniadol i ymddiddan â hwy, yn codi disgwyliadau, yn gwyrdroi a thrin credau, yn addo dogfennau hynafol yn cynnwys “ffuglen realiti” sydd yn adrodd hanes y dyfodol, ac yn rhoi gwybodaeth rannol i yrru’r rhai a ymgysyllta â hi’n wallgof. Cofiwn i hefyd, fodd bynnag, i Hlodeh ddod yn biler o sialc yn sgil y brad, a ffrwydrodd trwy amsugno un o dagrau Shekhis gan daenu’r hud trwy’r Holl Fyd a adawasai imi gyrchu’r lle hwn. Ymhellach, astudiaswn i eu holl wendidau’n fanwl, a dod yn gyfarwydd â’m rhai fy hun yn rhy dda o lawer. Ac felly gobeithiwn i ar fy ngwaethaf lwyddo, wrth iddynt lusgo dywed:

 

“Dim ond y ni all eistedd a siarad â’r meirw o’r Ochr Arall i’r Llen sy ddim yn deall amser na’r gofod gan fod popeth yno’n un, a rhannu bara â nhw, a chlywed straeon am yr hynafiaid anghofiedig yn eu gwald fud yn ddwfn islaw’r llaid du, filoedd o ganrifoedd o deithio i ffwrdd. Y ni sy ‘di turio i lawr mor ddwfn i’r ddaear ble nad oes olau o gwbl ym mhygddu’r nos dragwyddol. A dyna pam taw ni mewn gwirionedd yw Meistri Mawreddog bodolaeth oll. Ac yno, yn y dyfnderoedd affwysol, ni sy ‘di dod o hyd i’r hylif du cynoesol, sylwedd marwolaeth a bywyd, baw’r Holl Fyd, olion miliynau o rywogaethau diflanedig hynafol. A ni sy ‘di defnyddio hwn i adeiladu Bydoedd Newydd a’u poblogi.”

 

Ac felly, lolian a wnâi’r Duwdodau Hynafol, yn gyfrwys ond anwybodus, fel ysglyfaethwyr fferal creulon yn glafoerio dros eu hysglyfaeth, eu hanadl ddrewllyd yn gwenwyno’r awyr afiach, ac ewinedd eu traed yn ddu fel crafangau’n bygwth byrstio o’r esgidiau deuliw na ffitient yn dda o gwbl. Yr oedd y siwtiau pinstreip rhad â charnasiwns gwaetgoch yn y labedi, y ffedoras, a’r stiletos gwenwynig i fyny’r llewys, yn peri iddynt ymddangos fel Aelodau bryntaf i’w cael yn Nhŷ’r Llywodraeth, y Cŵn Mawr Blewog a’r Cathod Tewaf sydd yn dwlu ar lowcio cig coch y werin bobl, ac a fyddai’n aberthu’r Holl Fyd heb os nac oni bai i fyw am un ennyd yn hirach hyd yn oed pe byddent tan ddedfryd marwolaeth ddi-alw-yn-ôl. Sylweddolais fod yn rhaid imi eu cydnabod, ac wedyn datgan eu priodoleddau, eu galluoedd, a’u henwau:

 

“Dyma fi yn Llys y Blaned Yrth. Wele! Ymddengys rheolwyr y lle, nad ydynt yn bobl, na bwystfil, nac ysbrydion ychwaith, ond yn rhyw gyfuniad rhyfedd o’r tri pheth, yn fodau hudol â phersonoliaethau sydd fwyaf tebyg i’r rhai’n perthyn i greaduriaid chwedlonol. Yn gyntaf y daw’r Arglwydd Lusave, yr heliwr, fel ceffyl dŵr, a’i chwaer Thevenathu y cerddor ar ffurf aderyn llwch gwin. Dyma Lusave a daeth i fodoli mewn tair agwedd arall, sef fel Sasali yr athro, Selehi y lleidr, a Falesi y bwtsier.”

 

Roeddwn i’n cael fy ngorlethu gan y drycsawr a’r naws hypnotaidd, orffwyll, a dechrau rhusio. Ond wedyn, lamodd i’m meddwl ddelwedd fy arwres, Kolaza Vrasika Fendigaid, Arglwyddes yr Eli. Cofiwn sut yr oedd hi’n enwog am ostegu moroedd ffrochus, gwneuthur iraid a tanwydd o ddim byd, bwydo larfâu lepidoptera a swyno gwenyn gyda neithdar tra blasus, ac achosi a gwella canser a llu o afiechydon eraill. A dyna a roddodd hedyn cynllun yn fy mhen. Hwy, fodd bynnag, a atebasant:

 

“Mae holl cynhanes, hanes, presennol, a dyfodol pob gwareiddiad yn gofnod ffiaidd o anfoesoldeb, arswyd, pla, ciedd-dra, cyflafan, cystudd, chwydfa lenyddol, difodiad, haint, mochyndra, newyn, ofn, pornograffiaeth, rhyfel, a thrythyllwch. Dyma sut i achub y Ddaear Greulon a thrawsffurfio’r Holl Fyd! Bydd yn ddeallus! Tyfa lan! Dere’n oedolyn â dwylo brwnt! Rhoi’r gorau i chwilio am ysbrydoliaeth mewn rhyw fro ddychmygol fel crwt bach drewllyd.”

 

Y pryd hynny, gyda fflach ysbrydoliaeth o’r tu hwnt, gwyddwn i y dylwn i fod yn barod i gyflawni iddynt anrhegion y galwais arnynt i ymrithio o’m dychymyg. Dyma rai enghreifftiau ichwi: suran, mes a chnau eraill, ffrwythau’r yamboo, blodau gwynion yr yulan yn debyg i eirin, aeron tewion yn llawn cnawd gwaetgoch, berw’r gerddi, canghennau’n llawn eirin duon bach yn orlawn o sudd, llus duon bach, eirin, ac wyau brithion. Wedyn, ceisient hwy dal fy nychymyg trwy addo oferbethau deallusol o bob math:

 

“Fe ddysgi di’n lle ‘ny ymddiried mewn rhifoleg, mewn rhesymeg, ac yng nghyfaredd a rhyfeddod niferoedd. Fe fyddwn ni’n esbonio i ti ddoethineb amhrisiadwy a thraethu am gemau o athroniaeth sgolastig, a dysgu i ti wersi poenus o hardd yn llawn o acsiomau, dywediadau cofiadwy, egwyddorion, gwersebau, gwirebau, rheolau, deddfau, dyfyniadau bachog, priod-ddulliau, caswistiaeth, diarhebion, a reductiōnēs os gwrando a wnei di.”

 

Ond ni chaniatawn i iddynt llesteirio f’areithio, na rhwystro rhaeadr fy eangfrydedd. Consuriais iddynt: pentyrrau o selsig wedi brownio, salads, cwstard, rhiwbob, olifau, pastai gwningod, fenswn mwg wedi’i rostio ar fêr, a chwpaneidiau o de du cryf. Wrth adael i’r geiriau melys ond dra chymhleth ollwng o’m gwefusau, canolbwyntiwn i ar geisio gwneud iddynt orfoleddu, yn y gobaith y llwyddwn i’w swyno efallai, gan ostegu eu gofidiau, a’u lwlian i gysgu, ac euthum yn fy mlaen:

 

“Yn ail y daw Nuhuthi, y ffermwr, ar ffurf hwch wen neu dwrch albinaidd, a chydag ef y mae ei chwaer Ehefi, y gof, sy’n edrych fel caseg esgyrnog. Dyma Nuhuthi a newidia o fod yn ddyn i fod yn wraig bob yn ail flwyddyn am iddo syllu ar wyneb y Lleuad Las am yn rhy hir pan oedd yn grwt. Yn drydydd y daw’r brodyr Urozi, yr ysgolhaig, fel ci du fflamllyd, ac Ithesi, y swynwr, ar ffurf afanc hedegog. Yn olaf y daw Nesefi, y morwr, chwaer i Thuhuthi, ar ffurf llamhigyn y dŵr.”

 

Maent heb empathi, cydwybod, moesoldeb, nac uniondeb, yn ddiddeall o ran moeseg, ac eto ni chyffroir hwy gan yr un gronyn o fai, cywilydd, nac euogrwydd. Maent yn sathru ar wedduster a halogi diffuantrwydd trwy’r gred ddiysgog nad yw cyfrifoldebau na chanlyniadau o bwys, a’u bod uwchlaw y gyfraith ac yn anghyffyrddadwy. O ganlyniad maent yn drahaus ac yn ddi-hid ynghylch beirniadaeth, wedi’u dal mewn gwladwriaeth batholegol o’u gwneuthuriad hwy. Rhoddais iddynt: amryw eitemau ocwlt; canwyllarnau â maglau ffŵl; cerddorfa o ddrymiau mawr bas; chwistrellau ar ffurf ymbarél; llyfrau cyfrifon wedi’u dwyn; miloedd o gynfasau aruthrol fawr; pwmpenni mewn plât dur; rhofiau llwch a brwshys; selsig, sglodion, cetsyp a galwyni o goffi gwyn ewynnog; a phentyrrau a ysbail, budrelw a thrysorau. Aeth llif y geiriau ymlaen yn yr un modd, a hwynt-hwy’n murmur ac ystumio:

 

“Byddwn ni’n dangos i ti sut i reoli’r corff, cronni lli egni meddyliol, a defnyddio’r ewyllys i yrru’r dychymyg. Wedyn ti fydd yn creu’r patrymau, gan orchymyn dydd a nos, haul a lleuad, nant ac anialdir, dinas a theulu, gyfraith a chân, yn ein henwau ni. Byddi di’n newid yr Holl Fyd i gydymffurfio â dy syniadau gyda’n cyngor a dan ein harweiniad ni. Felly yn y pen draw bydd di’n gallu cael gwared ar gydwybod, cofleidio cynnydd dilyffethair, a chychwyn Chwildroadau Cymdeithasol. Pwy a ŵyr, gyda’n help ni, mae’n debyg llwyddi di i ddiddymu’r holl anrhefn ffiaidd achosir gan yr holl rymoedd afreolus ofnadwy: gwragedd a gwŷr; gogledd a de; ffrwythloni a geni, gweithio ac adeiladu; anadl ac enaid, dŵr a thân. Ac o ganlyniad Brenhines y Byd fyddi di, yn ymuno â ni yn ein Teyrnas Berffaith o harddwch gerwin a gwedduster nefol.”

 

Gochelwch y meistri a honna fod arnynt eisiau bod yn gyfeillion; maent yn eich adnabod yn rhy dda, a dymuno eich concro a’ch rheoli! Gochelwch y nadredd o dan y blodau diniwed! Maent yn ymgorfforiad ar y ffaith na fydd bodau athrylithgar fyth fel rheol yn ystyried bywydau’r rhai a faluriant trwy eu hesgeuluster. Gochelwch fwynion eiriau’r bleiddiaid milain hynny mewn croen dafad, a raffa gelwyddau noeth wrth fynnu mai angylion syrthiedig ydynt! Gochelwch!! – Os byddwch yn tosturio neu’n ofni, byddant yn eich dinistrio yn y fan a’r lle! Dywedais:

 

“Ac felly, yn enw Zundlakla nad oes neb yn sôn amdano, y gwas caeth a ddaeth yn aberth bodlon, a llwyddo i rheoli a rhyddhau’r lleill, dywedaf: Dangoswch eich gogoniant! – Kluzvlé, y goelcerth sy wastad yn ysu; Devdnutí, y syrthni yn dofi pob grym; Tlemblé, y ddrycin, sy’n rhuo ym mhobman; Mundumgí, yr hanfod sy’n bwydo a lladd; Khultzira, y gofod sy’n berwi heb ysbaid; Izlentlí, yr egni sy’n llenwi pob cil; a Memblenzlí, yr afon na ellir ei hatal.”

 

Dywedasant hwy, dan chwerthin dros bob man a gwasgu eu dwylo:

 

“Gyda’n help ni, byddi di’n creu cyffuriau effeithiol iawn o sbeis caethiwus, ffurfiau newydd ar dechnoleg i aflunio cyrff, a chyfryngau gwrthgymdeithasol i fachu meddyliau a’u defnyddio i gyflawni gwyrthiau mawr. Byddi di’n dal y rhai difeddwl, llygru’r rhai cryf, a bwydo ar eneidiau’r rhai mawr a’r rhai bach fel ei gilydd. Bydd Pobloedd a Bydoedd yn dod i gredu taw artaith lân yw bywyd, a taw diodde yw ffawd anochel pawb, yn enwedig y lleiaf. Fe fydd rhaid i bawb – y cryf a’r gwan, y doeth a’r ynfyd, y cyfoethog a’r tlawd, y pwyllog a’r bywiog, y dihalog a’r halogedig – dderbyn y boen ‘ma heb gwyno. Byddi di’n troi’r maes cad aneffeithlon o’r enw cymdeithas yn lladd-dy effeithiol i ddarparu’r pethau dyn ni angen . Bydd pob hil – Mbdzu, Zrghlé, Ldndo, Mnmna, Nkndlu, Zlghba, a Lkghru – yn cymryd rhan yr un mor ffyrnig â’i gilydd. Byddi di’n eu darbwyllo nhw i addoli ni gan ddefnyddio defodau astrus yn cynnwys crochan enfawr o bres gwyrdd. Ac wedyn ti fydd yn peri i’r Dyddiau Olaf gyrraedd.”

 

Bydd yn rhaid i chwi ddwyn mewn cof y byddant yn eich bygwth, dywed celwyddau i geisio eich twyllo a’ch camarwain, aflonyddu arnoch, chwarae castiau creulon o bob math, a defnyddio eich serch a’ch gobeithion yn eich erbyn i’ch troi rhag eich neges, a’ch rhoi yn y Freuddwyd Dywyll. Gorffennais fy nhraethu, gan ddywed:

 

“Myfi, Zundlakla, yr anial, sy’n celu ei wep, a ddatgana enwau’r Saith Swynwr: Kluzvlé a Devdnutí, Tlemblé a Mundumgí, Khultzira, Izlentlí, a Memblenzlí. A myfi a gyhoedda a chadarnhau mai trwy ennill y daw colli, a’r sawl a fetha a ennill!”

 

Cynhyrchais: amdoeau i bawb ar y Ddaear a fyddai farw yn y flwyddyn nesaf, byrddau o onics ac aur, cadeiriau ifori, gwelyau o rwyll gopr wedi’i gaboli, gwyndra cennog dwylo gwahanglaf, inc anweladwy o sylffad cwinîn, lleisiau ingol plant ar farw yn pylu at ddim, pibonwy a rhewa’r moroedd, a saith cyfrol ar hugain o ddysg anghofiedig. Dan wingo’n ofnadwy, sibrydent:

 

“Ti fydd yn dod â’r ffawd drychinebus, ragnodedig, anochel i bob glôb yn cynnwys ffieidd-dra annioddefol cymdeithasau amhûr, gan ledaenu disgyblaeth mor dyner â dur. Bydd Bydoedd cyfan yn dod yn yrroedd o deirw aberthol dychrynedig, diniwed, dilychwin – boed nhw’n Thorlin, Delkurí, Deklo, Dynolryw – a drwy eu defnyddio nhw byddwn ni’n bwydo’n gilydd! Y teirw aberthol fyddan nhw, a’r offeiriad llywyddol fyddi di, yn trin y gyllell farwol. Byddi di’n rhwygo ein gelynion yn gareiau; gwasgu’u grym bywydol â dwrn o haearn; berwi’u gweddillion mewn crochan enfawr; gwledda ef ar eu perfeddion; cnoi’u hesgyrn; a rhoi’u lludw ar y tân. Drwy’r aberth dynol parhaol ‘ma byddwn ni’n aros yn anfarwol, a maentumio’n gallu i lywio popeth yn y Ddau Fyd. A bydd eu sgrechian haeddiannol yn agor y Llwybr Dolurus i’r Byd Arall.”

 

Er fy mod wedi fy rhewi i farwolaeth bron gan y golygfeydd erch a godwyd gan eu haraith dros ben llestri, ceisiwn i nesaf newid cyfeiriad digwyddiadau, a dechrau gosod fy magl iddynt trwy eu pryfocio fel hyn:

 

“F’Arglwyddi a’m Harddwyglesau Parchedicaf, chwychwi a ŵyr bopeth gwerth ei wybod. Fodd bynnag, er gwaethaf eich grymoedd eithriadol, nad ydych wedi sylwi ar yr un ffaith ddibwys hon eto, yr oeddwn yn ei hamgyffred amser maith yn ôl er fy mod cyn lleied ac mor ddistadl o’m cymharu â chwi. Y pethau cyfrin hyn rwy wedi’u dysgu gan yr athrawon kfoive-Vueluguig a Ahoekasawf sydd yn cynghori bod yn rhaid inni fwrw heibio gysyniadau meddyliol dryslyd, a’n canfyddiadau synwyriadol anghywir, i gysylltu i’r eithaf ag egni cenhedlol, gwyllt, diwahaniaeth, cyfan yr Holl Fyd.”

 

Mae’r Arglwyddi Atgas bob adeg yn ymddwyn yn naïf, gwallgof, hunanfodlon, cafaliraidd, neu haerllug. Maent wrth eu boddau’n creu cyfreithiau dim ond i’w cynhinio, peri argyfyngau, dathlu ffolineb fel petai’n hollol resymegol, distrywio ffydd, a gwenwyno gwirioneddau hynafol. Parhau i barablu a wnaent:

 

“Ein hoff frenhines byped ni fyddi di, yn teyrnasu droson ni mewn oes yn llawn cynnydd materiaethol syfrdanol fydd mor feddal â phrotoplasm amoeba, ac yn esgor ar gyltiau esoterig yn cymysgu elfennau o wyddoniaeth, symboliaeth, chwerthin chwerw, ofn dychrynllyd, dychan ddi-ail, a’r ocwlt. Bydd yn ddigon gwrol i derbyn dy dynged ac yn barod i ddod yn un â ni, y Saith Swynwr Seraffaidd, ac wedyn byddwn ni i gyd yn gorfoleddu gyda’n gilydd. Dere! Fydd ond yn rhaid i ti roi dy hunan i fyny a neud sawl peth bach. Penlinia o’n blaen ni, bwyta’r hadau bywhaol ‘ma, a phrofi di’r galar, wrth rannu poen pob peth byw. Abertha di dy hun! Drwy farw, fe gei di dy eni eto! Neidia, neidia i mewn i’r crochan o bres gwyrdd ‘ma. Wedyn ti fydd ein Morwyn Ffyddlon ni, a ni fydd dy Feistri di, a byddwn ni’n gallu dy groesawu di mewn gogoniant. Byddwn ni wedyn yn dy fwydo di a pheri i ti ffynnu.”

 

Wedyn, dodais o’u blaen: ysgubau o haidd euraidd, ffircynnau o gaws ceulaidd, melon, pwmpenni, ystenau pridd o win cadarn, potiau porslen o lager ewynnog, cacennau, ciwcymberau oer, gwin ysgaw, triagl, madarch, a , mêl gan wenyn y mynydd. Daliwn i ati, gan draethu megis hyn wrthynt:

 

“Gan Kehtuhw Fawh, a Knefulig rwy wedi dod i ddeall mai dim ond trwy ymarfer ‘hey-pístis’ neu ffydd y gallwn ni ennill gwybodaeth dywyll, ‘hey-gnówsis.’ O’r safbwynt hwn, teg fyddai dywed mai mwy pwysig nag atebion ydy cwestiynau, ac ni fydd ymateb o gwbl i’r ymholiad gorau oll. Wedi’r cwbl, o ran darganfod a datgelu gwirioneddau sylfaenol, ‘ars est cēlāre artem,’ fel y meddai’r doethion Etrwsgeg ar fy Myd mor glir.”

 

Atebasant hwy yn eu tro:

 

“Dim ond ni a all dy achub di rhag foddi yn llyn anfeidrol y dychymyg a môr diwaelod myfyrdod. Dim ond ni a lwydda i dy dynnu di yn ôl rhag i ti ddod i gysylltiad â’r anhrefn wreiddiol sy’n gorwedd dan wyneb popeth, a mynd ar goll am byth. Ni fydd yn dy gyfarwyddo di wrth i ti lywio creu’r dyfodol. Wedyn byddi di’n gallu cyflawni yn ddi-gosb, ac ymelwa ar y saith pechod fydd yn arwain at drais, hynny yw: meddu ar gyfoeth heb waith, syrffedu ar bleser heb wewyr cydwybod, ceisio gwybodaeth heb gadernid cymeriad, cyflawni masnach heb foesoldeb, defnyddio gwyddoniaeth heb ddyngarwch, dathlu crefydd heb aberth, a chwarae gwleidyddiaeth heb egwyddorion.”

 

Deuthum wedyn ag adar, aeron, bedw, brogaod, cennau, helyg, malwod, mamolion corniog, mwsoglau, mwydod, a physgod; brechdanau lloergan, drymiau o groen, ffliwtiau o ffemwr elc, glockenspiele o garreg, a maracas serlwch sanctaidd. Taerais wedyn:

 

“Clywch chwi hyn! Nid ydych chwi, a phob un ohonoch yn niferus ond yn wag, yr hyn wyf fi, a’m bywyd mor fregus a rhyfeddol. Gwelwch fi, y wraig, sydd yn gaeth i’r corff a’r wyneb; syllwch arnaf fi – bod sydd wedi ei rwymo gan fyw, a marw, a llif amser – ac wylwch!”

 

Rhoddais iddynt nesaf: gobledi o feddyglyn, mygiau’n llawn medd pygddu gluddiog, bara ceirch wedi’i fwydo mewn gwirod, ydrawn o ysguboriau’r Anialdir Mawr Dwyreiniol, tybaco a chatiau pren ceirios, hanerobau, golwythion oen, ac iamau mawr aeddfed. Bu bron iddynt lamu ar y creigiau mwsoglyd wrth ddatgan:

 

“Gyda’n gilydd, codwn ni balas ble bydd afonydd o ddagrau, tyrau ifori, ogofâu’n llawn corynnod gwydrfaen, a choedwigoedd gemog, gan brofi pob mwynhad, a boddio pob gwŷd. Dere, yfa’r neithdar, bwyta ffrwyth pren gwybodaeth da a drwg fel byddi di’n byw byth mwy yn hytrach na marw, troi’n llwch, a chael dy anghofio. Byddi di’n dysgu rhoi’r synhwyrau dynol heibio a thrin y gwreichion meddyliol, fydd yn gadael i ti agor pyrth i Fydoedd fyrdd, gan gerdded ffyrdd y mudion, dilyn strydoedd y byddar, a throedio llwybrau’r deillion, gan uno dy ewyllys di â’n harchwaethau ni. Byddi di’n aberthu’r arall ar allor yr hunan wedi’i gorchuddio â felfed porffor gan gyfnewid triliynau o fywydau am y cread oll, nes taw’r clo a’r allwedd fyddi di, yr Un all agor y Porth Galarus a throedio dros y Llwybr Serennog tuag at yr Hyd Deheuol. Ti fydd y crëwr a ddaw yn un â’i weithredoedd, gan lunio Bydoedd newydd syfrdanol. Ac yno bydd gwirionedd yn chwythu hwnt a thraw ar wynt ein dymuniad ni.”

 

Pan hoeliaswn i eu sylw fel hyn, gosodais ger eu bron wrthrychau eraill, megis: powlenni o fflint, aderyn egrifft o garreg, llongau o flodau, gweoedd corryn o wydr gwyrdd, a cherfluniau bach o dduwdodau iâ prudd, gan ddywed:

 

“Yma, yn eich plith, yn eich Dinas Breuddwydion Drylliedig, yr wyf yn eich enwi, wrth weld, a chlywed, a theimlo’r geiriau’n newid cyn gynted ag y dônt allan o’m gwefusau: Lusave a Thevenathu, Nuhuthi ac Ehefi, Urozi, Ithesi, a Nesefi. Yr wyf wedi rhestru eich llwyddiannau, eich gwendidau, a’ch methiannau. Myfi Thuhuthi, y ffŵl sydd yn gwybod y gwir, a gyhoedda a chadarnhau fel draig driphen mai newid cyson yw natur sylfaenol pob peth, a gorffen hefyd a wna pob peth a ddechreuir.”

 

Yna, a nyni i gyd yn loetran ymhlith y gweiriau estron raselaidd, y clogfeini cleisiog yn llwydni i gyd, a’r llwyni porffor crablyd yn drewi o amonia ymatebasant:

 

“Ti fydd yr un i adael ar ôl y dinas wedi’i chwalu, y fforest wenwynig, y môr ar farw, ac awyr y nos heb leuad na’r un seren, ac ymadael drwy ddrws ysbrydion i fan drychiolaethau. Wedyn, o dy flaen di ar y cae enfawr o’r enw Maes Athrist bydd yr allor echrydus yn ymddangos, strwythur enfawr o farmor du ar ffurf pyramid blaendor, ble bydd gobeithion a breuddwydion mwya’ gwerth chweil y dyfodol yn cael eu gosod mewn trefn a’u rheoli gennyn ni. Dyma fydd dechrau’r prawf terfynol. Bydd bollt trydan a chaniad fel daeargryn gan drwmped o blwm yn rhwygo’r poethder gludiog yn llawn cwmwl niwlog y diwybod. Bydd y gwagle’n agor, â llewyrch fiolet a drycsawr osôn, gan dorri bwlch mewn gofod ac amser, a lledaenu rhwystredigaeth ac ing. Fe ddaw mellten drwy’r wybren ar y chwith, a fforchio hyd y dde. Fe weli di taw dim ond fflach grynedig yw bodolaeth feidrol, ond un yn llawn o egni ysbrydol. Ac wedyn ti dy hunan fydd yn neud aberth â chyllell, ac aros nes i’r bwystfil gael ei ladd, a difetha’i gorff e, a’i roi e i’w losgi yn fflamau’r tân fel poethoffrwm i’r Hen Feistri, fel down ni oll i wledda ar gnawd blasus hyd byth.”

 

Cynhyrchais i iddynt: hancesi o sidan gwyn; gwreiddyn y tegeirian pwti; torth o fara du a bobwyd gennyf; eli tylino’n cynnwys blodau’r gwanwyn wedi distyllu ac echdynion cemegol dirgel; dyrnaid o bridd rwy wedi rolio ynddo’n borcyn dan olau lleuad waedlyd; cân nyth o lyffantod; a chostrel o heulwen a gasglaswn i ar ben Bryniau Jadit. Wedi ennyn eu diddordeb hwy gymaint, yr oeddwn i’n meddwl y dylwn i fynd yn fy mlaen i’w denu ymhellach trwy awgrymu:

 

“Mor ddymunol â’r gwanwyn, ydych chwi, y ‘lūsūs nātūrae,’ mor gysurus â’r haf, mor ffrwythlon a’r hydref, ac mor arswydus â’r gaeaf. Corrach megis gwybedyn o’m cymharu â chwi ydwyf fi, sydd yn pwlffacan, blysio, brwydro, bradychu, clafychu, chwarae, chwerthin, gweithio, mwynhau, a threngi. Ond eto i gyd, myfi sydd yn gorlifo o nerth creadigol, tra nad ydych chwychwi’n gallu dychmygu, na arloesi, na chynhyrchu. Myfi a all genhedlu a lladd, yn ôl y galw a’r dymuniad, tra dim ond aildrefnu elfennau eisoes yn bodoli a wnewch, chwychwi a orfodir i deimlo mai ail-ffurfio a pherffeithio yw’r unig wir weithredoedd hudol. Wedi’r cwbl, yr ydych chwi’r Hen Feistri Echrydus bob tro wedi ymorchestu i gadw popeth yn sefydlog, a dilychwin, a hollol ddigyfnewid, wrth hiraethu’n gyfrinachol am drengi i ddianc rhag eich bodolaeth dragwyddol sydd mor ddiflas a rhwystredigaethus.”

 

Pan gânt eu dal ar eu cam, byddant yn syth yn dechrau dweud celwyddau, hel esgusion, rhygnu ymlaen am bwyntiau technegol, gwadu, mynd ar grwydr, gwrthdynnu sylw, lleihau, cyfiawnhau, troi’r stori, neu fwrw’r bai ar eraill. Creais i iddynt: fwcedi iâ, cyllyll, llieiniau byrddau, napcynau, peiriau, sosbenni, a thegelli; sacheidiau o flawd, ffau, a siwgr; brownin, jam mefus, a siocledi mintys. Parhaent hwy fel hyn:

 

“Ti fydd Adauvam Dlndva y Mab â llais cryf, yn gweiddi datgan y ddedfryd dros gorff pitw’r Tad, Ishakí Zlnklé. Ac wedyn wrth nofio mewn afon o dân heb gael dy ddifa, byddi di’n troi’r gyllell goch arno, a gwthio’r dagr miniog ym mrest yr hen gono heb oedi, a’i rwygo, i ryddhau grymoedd anhygoel. I feddu ar bŵer dihysbydd byddi di’n bwrw dy elynion oll i mewn i’r goelcerth o binwydd ar yr un pryd. “

 

Ymgaledwn i a chofio mai myfi sydd wedi dewis y ffordd weithredol. Credwn i y byddai’n hanfodol imi osgoi cecian na cloffi, hyd yn oed wrth wynebu’r perygl mwyaf marwol. Llwythais hwy ag anrhegion megis: plu’r gigfrain, yr hwyaden lygad aur, a thylluan yr eira; ffidlau, organau ceg, tambwrinau, a thrionglau o gerddorfa’r tylwyth teg; adar asgellog, cardiau chwarae eurblatiog, carpiau o satin sgarlad, ffotograffau cyndadau blewog, a physgod ar fachau coed. Ac ar ôl hyn, ceisiwn i’w llenwi hwy â chenfigen gynddeiriog, trwy ychwanegu:

 

“Nid ydych yn gallu bwyta bywyd, na’i yfed, na’i roi yn eich cetyn, na’i wisgo megis cot law, na charu â fe, na’i roi ar dân i’ch cadw’n dwym ymhlith yr holl henaint, y farwolaeth, y pechod, y brofedigaeth, a’r epilio. Ond serch hynny, mor felys a dymunol ydy caru ac andwyo, difrodi a gwella, gwobrwyo a chosbi, haffio a drachtio, adeiladu a chwalu, dyfeisio a distrywio. Sylwch ar gymaint y gall y dyn lleiaf ei greu o nodi mai pan fyddaf fi farw’n hwyr neu’n hwyrach y bydd nifer enfawr o bethau pitw’n marw gyda fi, megis fy llais a’m gwedd, fy mhryderon, f’ofnau, a’m gobeithion; y cariad a’r casineb yn perthyn i’m ffrindiau gorau a’m gelynion gwaethaf; arogl thus yn llenwi fy ysgyfaint wrth imi buro’r deml breifat; a delwedd pob eiliad yr wyf wedi’i phrofi erioed, o’r ennyd cyntaf imi ddod i’r Byd Galarus, Glwys, hyd at yr un derfynol pan ymadawaf am byth. Ond er gwaethaf hynny, yng nghof yr Holl Fyd, gwelwch y bydd hefyd nifer dirfawr o weithredoedd mawr a bychain a gychwynnwyd gennyf yn aros, yn creu effeithiau, ac yn atsain hyd at dragwyddoldeb. Felly, myfi sydd yn medru cychwyn y fath gymhelri, trasiedi, a hyfrydwch, er fy mod mor bitw ac yn diflannu mor gyflym!”

 

Mae eu balchder yn dynwared gwyleidd-dra wrth iddynt ateb cwestiynau swyddogol gyda chelwyddau noeth sydd yn eu barn hwy’n eithaf penigamp a chynhwysfawr (sydd, mewn gwirionedd, yn hirwyntog ac yn hollol wag) ynghylch eu camweithredoedd oll o esgeuluster patholegol mewn sywddi cyhoeddus i ddynladdiad gorfforaethol. Gosodais o’u blaen: adar o ddail, cysgodion o olau, ac ystlumod o fagiau du; teisenni’n cynnwys lliw coffi, arogl gwaed, a chwŷd ehedydd; ac organ coblyn gyda nodau amryliw, pibellau alwminiwm, a cogiau tantalwm yn chwyrlïo, yn debyg i injan stêm neu felin ddyrnu. Dyfalbarhasant hwy:

 

“Trwy nerth ein dyfeisiadau ni byddi di’n dileu popeth wnaed yn y Ddau Fyd, yr holl fryntni, anufudd-dod, ac anrhefn ffiaidd, gan adael dim ond sbrigynnau glas aileni ymhlith adfeilion llychlyd trychineb. Byddi di’n agor drws i Fyd Technolegol Pur ble mae pob gwrthrych wedi’i wneud yn raenus, yn ddymunol, yn berffaith, ble mae pob syniad, gair a delwedd yn unigryw, yn ddigamsyniol, ac yn ddiamwys. Hyn fyddi di’n gyflawni yn enwau cêl y Saith Duwdod Mwya Creulon, Las-ven, Kas-las, Nek-vas, Sak-sal, Ven-sak, Sal-kas, a Nev-las. Ac fe gaiff yr awyr ei llenwi gan ein floeddio chwerthin gwyllt ni.”

 

Eu cennad ydy periwig yn byw ac anadlu a’i thafod wedi’i wthio cyn belled lan twll tin yr hen fois mai o’r braidd y gall ynganu’r weniaith sebonllyd arferol [1]. A thrwy gael eu gorfodi i wylio’r fath hagrwch y naill ddiwrnod ar ôl y llall, bydd y boblogaeth yn dechrau ymddwyn yn hagr wrth droi at ddrwg. Creais flas pwmpen, awch cnap fflint, anobaith cythraul, perarogl menyw, ac ystyfnigrwydd asyn; bonedi lasiog, clustgapiau satin, cynfasau lliain, a sgarffiau felfed; a seiniau achlysurol a ymddangosai’n bwysig ac ystyrlon. Wedyn, dywedais:

 

“Mae pob unigolyn yn cynnwys y Thorlin oll, yr holl hil o’i chychwyn i’w diwedd, er nad ydy’r rhan fwyaf yn sylweddoli hyn. Sbiral lachar sydd eisiau ehangu heb rwystr i oleuo’r Holl Fyd ydy bywyd y Thorlin, a goleuni rhyfedd a gyflwynir i’r rhai a gais y lleoedd uchaf. Dyma olau nad ydy wedi bodoli ar y tir nac yn y nef, gobaith y beirdd a breuddwyd y taeogion. Mae’r golau hwn yn cynnwys rhyw ddylanwad yn anarferol o haniaethol, anweledig, anhysbys a chyfrin, heb lygad na meddwl, sydd ar waith yn ddi-drai o bell iawn i ffwrdd yn y gwaed yn cylchdroi trwy ein gwythiennau, gan ddod ag ing y môr mawreddog ar farw, yn ogystal â’r heulwen, y tarth, y ceryntau, a’r ewyn. Mewn gwyll twym, mae’r dyfodol yn aros yn fud inni fyw’n gall a bwrw’r golau’n bellach, a chord olaf rhyw anthem ry hiraethus i’w dirnad yn llawn yn atseinio yn ôl atom trwy gnawd ac esgyrn gofod-amser.”

 

Maent yn datgan ar gyrn a phibau mai ymddiriedaeth ydy’r peth mwyaf gwerthfawr mewn bywyd cyhoeddus wrth ei hafradloni mor anghynnil, wedi perffeithio llywodraeth trwy gynadleddau i’r wasg. Maent yn taeru y rhoddant freichiau cariadus o amgylch y werin bobl (er mwyn eu gwasgu, eu tagu, a dwyn oddi wrthynt), a gosod cylch gwarchodol amdanynt (er mwyn eu dal, eu gorthrymu, a’u lladd). Maent yn ymhyfrydu mewn ailysgrifennu’r rheolau wedi’u gosod i lawr mewn inc coch ar bapurfrwyn sylffwraidd i ganiatáu torri cyfreithiau mewn ddulliau cyfyngedig a phenodol pryd bynnag y bo angen, i achub eu croen eu hun (a’u myfïau aruthrol) trwy ddileu pob cyfeiriadau at onestrwydd, cywirdeb, tryloywder, ac atebolrwydd. Wedyn byddant uwchben eu digon yn chwifio poteli o gwmpas yn cynnwys gwaed poeth yr aberthau dynol cyn eu slotian nes iddynt fynd yn feddw gaib ymhlith y lladdfa. Fodd bynnag, er fy mod yn gwneuthur fy ngorau glas, syfrdanais a rhewi hyd at fêr yr esgyrn pan anerchent mi yn blwmp ac yn blaen fel hyn:

 

“Fydd dim gwahaniaeth fyddi di’n yn llwyddo i dorri’r cod cyfrinachol, datrys y posau oll, a dysgu a dehongli enwau’r archangylion. Fe fyddi di’n dod i’r casgliad yn rhy gyflym taw dim ond geiriau cyffredin wedi’u creu gan fodau dynol ydyn nhw. Yr allwedd yw dyw’r un ohonyn nhw’n hudol. Fydd yr un sill yn gweithredu hyd yn oed os byddi di’n eu canu nhw’n uchel gyda’r bwriad hudol pura. Dyma weli di’n fuan, ar draul dy einioes di!”

 

Rhoddwn i bob ewin ar waith i’m hadfeddiannu fy hun, a dodi o’u blaen sawl peth gwaharddedig: gwenau ffug ar wynebau lluosog uwch brif ddeon gweinyddol gweithgareddau anghredadwy a chanlyniadau ansylweddol a wisgai gynifer o hetiau am ei ben nad oedd yn adnabod i sicrwydd (na neb arall, ychwaith), pwy oedd ef mwyach; ffetis bach goreurog o hen wraig â pladur ar ben blwch yn llawn sbringiau ac olwynion pres sydd yn ystumio amser; potel o sbeit hylifol wedi’i distyllu o awrâu bwlïod trahaus a oedd yn arbenigwyr mewn artaith gorfforol a chymylu rhifolegol ac a weithiai gyda’r nos fel meirwddewinion o fri, gan wledda ar eneidiau; a drych od â streipiau oren a gwyn sydd yn llosgi’r croen cyn torri’n deilchion a diflannu megis hylif trwchus yn anweddu’n fwg du wrth warpio’r gofod. Dywedais wrthynt:

 

“Clywch fi yn awr! Dyma Bosau Annatrys Bodolaeth. Mae athronwyr Anopgalvwa yn dysgu i’r Perffaith ddod i mewn i’r Byd i adael inni ei adnabod. Dywedant hwy mai un positif yw creu, un negatif yw dileu, a sero yw cyfanswm yr Holl Fyd. Yr Holl Fyd a gynhyrcha Bŵer, a esgora ar Gyfraith, o’r hon a ddaw Egwyddor, a drecha Anghyfiawnder – ‘fol lu pol lu re lu hu lu ru pafabi.’ Mae S’hup-S’hep ymhellach yn datgan Dilechdid Oferedd, sef mai trwy adio dim at ddim y daw rhywbeth, os gŵyr dyn sut i adio’n gywir; tra mae Zitté yn gwadu’n gryf y tardda unrhyw beth o gwbl o ddim byd. Trwy fyfyrio uwchben yr anghysonderau hyn, rwy wedi casglu mai Perffeithrwydd yw ail isradd un negatif na ellir ei ddirnad gan feddyliau meidrol, tra mae Drygioni’n derfynedig ac amgyffredadwy. Odrif yw gwirionedd, tra mae celwydd yn eilrif. Oherwydd hyn, trwy adio anwiredd at wiredd y bydd dyn yn creu’r gwir, a thrwy luosi gwir â ffalsedd y bydd yn llunio geudeb [2]. Ar ben hynny, ni fydd dau dda byth yn gwneud un drwg; ond mae’n bosibl i ddau ddrwg wneud un da. Dyna pam mae gwirionedd, megis cydwybod, bob amser yn noeth. Esboniwch y canlynol imi, felly, os gwelwch chwi’n dda, O Arweinyddion Mwyaf Hyglod: Beth ydy gwir natur cyfuno a gwahanu? A beth ydy hanfod rheoli ac ymostwng? Wedi’r cwbl, chwi sydd yn deall mai ‘efallai’ ydy gwell gair nag ‘ie’ neu ‘nage’ ac mai dechrau doethineb ydy gofyn cwestiynau heb eu hateb o ran troi’r fantol i’ch mantais eich hun. Dewch! Cymerwch! Bwytewch! Yfwch! Pwy fydd yn cael beth?”

 

Y pedantiaid mwyaf ydy’r rhain, sydd yn rhedeg Cwmni Telegraff Cythreulig y Cosmos. Maent yn cynhyrchu a darlledu camhysbysrwydd mewn tafodieithoedd dyrys wedi’u dyfeisio i ddrysu ieithyddion o oes i oes wrth rwydo meddyliau. Trwy gyfrwng hyn, maent yn gorfodi systemau estron ac ocwlt yn llawn o ffeithiau pendant ond rhithiol ar bobl i’w heintio â chwestiynau a chwynion. Bydd hyn yn gwneud i’r ansicr deimlo’n sicr, ac agor y drws i amheuon na all ond gweinidogion y crefyddau gwneuthuredig, yr hocedwyr, y dynion dweud ffortiwn, dehonglwyr breuddwydion, ac aelodau’r criw arbrofion esoteraidd obeithio eu hateb. Ac o ganlyniad y daw eu taeogion yn injans o gnawd a fydd yn trosglwyddo a mwyhau’r dirgryniadau uffernol heb eu deall. Cyflwynais iddynt nesaf: yr adlewyrchiadau ystumddrwg gan bob drych drylliedig a fu erioed, bwa croes yr Hen Longwr, coronau o ddiemwnt ac arnynt lygaid a dynnid gan gynffon ceffyl hedegog, gwynt y gogledd ar arnynt ewin croyw y môr gwyrdd a chwys hallt caethweision rhwyfau fyrdd, lludw cyndadau’r Saith Tras Colledig, moch duon yr Angau, seiniau ymdaith lon trwy ddôl y gilgain, sgerbwd gemog yn hofran wrth ganu clychau i alw cythreuliaid y dymestl i ddawnsio, ac ysgyfarnogod yn cario model perffaith yr Holl Fyd yn dangos pob cyflafan gableddus. Yn biwis y dechreuodd y Demiwrgoi Dichellgar chwythu bygythion:

 

“Sut feiddi di amau ni, greadur anffodus, sy’n yn gwbod dim o’i gymharu â ni. Ni sy’n gosod y posau yma, a chreu’r rheolau. Erbyn hyn mae pob athronydd a pob meddyliaethydd sy ‘di chwarae gyda ni – ac wedi colli – yn ymdrybaeddu yn Ffynnon Eneidiau. I ti, dim ond arwydd dryslyd dadfeilio yw amser sy’n teimlo fel continwwm enydau colledig, cronfa edifeirwch, môr o ddigwyddiadau afreal, ac elfen fwya annirnad yr Holl Fyd. Dyna pam dwyt ti’m yn cofio dy henaint, wrth ffuantu ailfyw dy febyd di. A dyna ti, yn dal i dadlau mewn geiriau toredig, ond yn ffaelu rhoi enwau ar be ti’m yn deall ac ystyr i be sy tu hwnt i dy ddirnadaeth bitw. Mae realiti yn dianc rhag pob un o dy gysyniadau di fel aderyn y to aur yn hedfan bant. Wrth drio trafod y prif bethau haniaethol – bodolaeth, byw, marw, damnedigaeth, ebargofiant – dim ond malu awyr a nei di, gan bregowthan geiriau ar hap sy’m yn ystyrlon."

 

Gan synhwyro fy mod yn llwyddo i’w procio hwy i wylltio a colli rheolaeth arnynt eu hunain yn llwyr, cynhyrchais iddynt lawer o anrhegion yn gweddu i’r Swynwyr mwyaf: parion ewinedd ac ewinedd troed o faban newydd-anedig; cadach, asgwrn, a chengl o wallt brychlwyd o gelain cadfridog hynafol; llaw gogoniant; magnet cyfrin traddodiadol Arethefí; hudlath o helygen wylofus a phluen draig yn graidd iddi; a dyfais gyfrifiannol awtomataidd ar ffurf menyw adeiniog wedi’u gwneud o iâ nad yw’n toddi, asgwrn morfil, rwber silicôn, cloc wedi sefyll, dagr bach a ail-wnaethpwyd, a sbringiau aloi titaniwm. Dywedais:

 

“Rwy’n deall eich pryder ac yn rhannu’ch poen, O Brimasiaid y Berffeithiaeth Buraf! Ac o barch atoch yr ymdrechaf i fod mor fanwl gywir ag y bo modd am hyn ymlaen, er gwaethaf fy ffaeleddau diesgus, wrth erfyn am eich maddeuant ac yn ymbil am gymorth. Felly, rwy’n nodi mai ar y cychwyn cyntaf yr oedd wyth ohonoch chwi’r Awdurdodau Cudd, wyth cynefin, ac wyth dull gweld: hynny ydy dau i bŵer tri; mai dau ydy’r rhif cysefin cyntaf, yr unig un sydd yn eilrif, a grëwyd trwy hollti undod yn wrthwynebiadau; ac mai dau i unrhyw bŵer ydy eilrif. Fodd bynnag, ar ôl brad yr Un Nas Enwir, hynny yw Shekhis, yr oedd saith, sydd hefyd yn rhif cysefin. Rhifau ydy’r unig realiti, a thrwy fesuro pethau ac wedyn eu trafod yn nhermau ystadegau bydd dyn yn cael gwybod yn gywir am pob pwnc. Pe deallai dyn hwy’n berffaith wedi’u huno a’u rhannu, gallai oresgyn yr Holl Fyd. Nawr gwelwch hyn oll, a rhennwch y rhoddion yr wyf wedi’u darparu!”

 

Dim ond grym eithafol a all ddangos y fath ddirmyg tuag at y ffyddloniaid sydd yn ufuddhau iddo wrth ymdrybaeddu yn y llys butraf trwy dragwyddoldeb o nos gosmig. Ni raid dywed nad ydy’r pŵer hwn yn ysu am weld dilysrwydd ond hyder wrth i’r taeogion fynegi ewyllys y goruchwylwyr. Byddai hyd yn oed y rhagrithiwr gwaethaf yn cenfigennu wrth y meistri hyn â chymylau i ymennydd am lwyddo i lywio hynt hanes trwy ddefnyddio data llygredig, siamplau sgiw, a gwybodaeth ddiffygiol, ac wedyn bwrw’r bai ar eu staff yn wael wrth ffraeo, chwydu, a chnuchio yng nghanol llyn o win. Euthum ymlaen:

 

“Oherwydd popeth rwy wedi’i ddywed, gwelwch yn glir mai dioddefaint mwyaf y Thorlin a achosir gan ffigurau. Er enghraifft, mae rhai yn gorfod cyfrif a ydy pob rhif maent yn dod ar ei draws yn rhanadwy â saith, tra mae eraill yn trefnu popeth yn ôl trioedd [3]. Mae’r rhai cyntaf yn tueddu i farw cyn eu pryd, a’r olaf i wneud amdanynt eu hun. ‘Stultōrum īnfīnītus est numerus,’ medd y doethion diystyrllyd sydd yn methu deall dioddefaint Dynol. Rwy’n dra ymwybodol o’r ffeithiau hyn wrth ddywed ei bod yn amlwg mai meddyliau tyngedfennol o wreiddiol sydd gennych, ond nodi hefyd mai hyd yn oed y mwyaf a all ddioddef o ddiniweidrwydd truenus. Yr ydych yn ein harsylwi ond heb ein gweld; yr ydych yn ein gwrando arnom, ond nid ydych yn ein clywed; ac felly yr ydych yn gwybod amdanynt ond nid ein hadnabod. Rwy’n gofyn ichwi yn blwmp ac yn blaen: Yn eich mawredd i gyd, oni fyddwch yn fodlon gwneud y peth symlaf hwn a rhannu meddyliau morgrugyn er mwyn eich ehangu eich hun y tu hwnt i fesur? Oblegid cerddores ydwyf fi, nid meddyliaethydd, rhifolegydd, na dehonglydd. Dewch! Mynnwch eich cyfran o’r ysbail!”

 

Euthum ati’n syth i’w temtio â phethau anweddus o bob math y gwyddwn i na allent byth beidio â’u cael: brwshys tŷ bach, nicers, a thrôns; dwsinau o botiau dan y gwely a medrau o bapur toiled, cynfasau bront o gwely offeiriad gwyrdroëdig a ddyfeisiodd ei grefydd ei hun er mwyn dal i bechu, a saith ffalws dirfawr coch ac arnynt smotiau crynion melyn. Trefnwn i i’m hanrhegion oll ymddangos mor danteithiol, mor ddymunol, ac mor anhepgor iddynt hwy’r Anfarwolion Aflednais ag a fyddai’n bosibl. Serch hynny, taranent hwy:

 

“Clyw di’r Llais Trallodus yn rhuo ymhlith yr holl synau iasol eraill: yr esgyrn yn crensian a’r gwaed yn berwi; y chwilod yn ddi-ball sisial – er-chep, pech-re, er-pech, chep-re, pech-er, chep-er, re-pech; a’r ffantodod wedi llwydo'n udo ar y colomennod rhyfelgar, wrth i’r bwganod dafadennog gyfri ffawd yr Holl Fyd, eu taclau enfawr cigog yn sgrechian! Dyn ni’n addo hyn i ti: byddi di’n difaru bwrw hyd. Byddi di’n cael dy gosbi fel doli glwt, dy gorff wedi’i rwygo’n llarpiau ond heb gael dy ladd. Ac er mawr dychryn i ti, fe fyddi di’n deall taw ni yw’r Meistri, a fydd dim amdani ond ufuddhau. Ond fel gwraig farw sy ddim yn cario dau ddarn arian yn ei cheg e fel offrwm, fyddi di ddim yn cael mynd yn dy flaen. Fydd dim ots a fyddi di’n tyngu llwon nac addo’n ofer gan weddïo am llonydd, a chysur, ac ebargofiant, am taw trychfil dibwys wyt ti. Dyma beth fydd di wedyn: menyw wedi’i llwytho â meddiannau, a chyfoeth, a memrynau yrrir gan ful cloff ar hyd y ffin rhwng byw a marw. Ac wedyn byddi di’n cwympo i foddi yn yr afon rhwng teyrnasoedd bod ac anfod ond heb erioed gael ymadael”

 

Ar y cyfle cyntaf, fodd bynnag, clywent hwy oglau f’offrymau, yn sawru o asaffeta, brwysgedlys, caprys, caramel, cardamom, casia, clofs, coco, cwmin, fanila, fioletau, leimiau duon, nytmeg, paprica, pralin, pupur du, a sinsir. Cyn gynted ag y dechreusant ffraeo dros y danteithion, cynigiais iddynt ddiod od iawn, yn cynnwys alcohol grawn, trwyth eidion, grenadin, moddion peswch, gwreiddyn triaglog, mamlyg, a chycyllog cynddeiriog [4]. Wedyn byddent megis perchyll melynddu’n brwydro i sugno tethi’r hwch, gan lafoeri’n llygadrwth, wrth refru arnaf. Atebais innau, mor gwrtais ag y gallwn:

 

“Er nad wyf yn deall eich crebwyll penigamp, rwy’n gweld y broblem o ran meddwl mor gyflym â chwi’r Saith Swynwr Seraffaidd. Ac felly rwy’n gofyn caniatâd i ddwyn y mater bach hwn i’ch sylw arddunol fel y gellwch ddod yn fwy perffaith. Dim ond dymuno eich cynorthwyo a wnaf fi, oblegid rwy’n credu eich bod chwi’r Bodau Dwyfol yn cyflawni gwall rhesymegol ‘ignōrātis elenchum.’ Dyma pam y camgymerir ‘ie’ am ‘nage,’ cyfnewidir amheuaeth am sicrwydd, a chymer rhith le realedd ac i’r gwrthwyneb. Dewch chwi, bleswch y danteithfwydydd ardderchog hyn, peidiwch ag afradu briwsionyn! A byddwch yn sicr o godi’r bys bach: bydd y trwyth pefriog ffein hwn wedi diflannu cyn hir. Iechyd da, ac i lawr y lôn goch!”

 

Dyna oedd cychwyn gloddest echrydus a symbylai adlithro a chwilfriwio. Wedyn, dechreuodd yr Arteithwyr Aethus lafoerio dros y rhoddion, gan guro dwylo, taro eu troed ar lawr, hwmian yn amhersain, a gwingo’n boenus. Tyfai’r sain yn debyg i lofruddio diwylliannau cyfan yn digwydd mewn Bydoedd Amgen filenia i ffwrdd, gan beri i’m briwiau ddychlamu fel petawn i’n sefyll mewn pwll o fflam ysol wedi’i ollwng o galon yr Haul Disglair. Ychwanegais:

 

“Raid imi ddweud y gwir wrth rym, ac felly byddaf yn rhannu sawl syniad hollbwysig. Mae Cataffiseg Vzdrl yn dysgu’r canlynol ynglŷn a’r Aneglurder Cudd. Adlewyrchiad hyll o gymesur angenrheidiol drygioni ydy daioni. Mae’r ddeuoliaeth ddeuryw sylfaenol hon yn esgor trwy sythwelediad ar dda i ryw raddau, neu ddifaterwch o leiaf. Bydd y plentyn yn debyg i’r seirff chwedlonol â chwe phen a chwe chynffon, a bydd y mwyafrif yn brwydro i gaethiwo’r anghenfil newydd-anedig yng ngwaed rhesymegol y palas gwydrog ble’r erys ef nes iddo fynd yn hen ac yn boddi ym môr amser. Ymhellach, mae Pantacemeg Thofolothatho Alanenani yn ychwanegu hyn. Y sain ‘A’ ydy dechrau popeth ac felly yn fwy na’i hun. Mae’n dal i ofyn cwestiwn ar ôl cwestiwn wrth ddisgwyl y tu hwnt i’r gofod am esblygiad mewn cyfres o digwyddiadau trwy amser. O hon y daw dau weithrediad. Gwrywaidd ydy plws (﬩) â’i natur driaidd, a benywaidd ydy Minws (—) â’i natur ddeuaidd. Maent yn unfath yn gymaint â’u bod yn wrthwynebau, a fydd yn uno, canslo, ac esgor ar Sero (ϴ), had Amser (H), rhiant Bywyd (ח) [5]. Gwrandewch! Gwleddwch ar yr hyn y mae gennych hawl iddo!”

 

Wedyn gwelais hwy’n prancio o gwmpas gan ddynwared pob dawns osgeiddig a fu erioed yn y modd mwyaf absẃrd. Yr oeddynt yn trosbennu, olwyndroi, a chrychlamu â chyn lleied o bleser wrth i’r naill gledro’r llall yn galed â sawl un o’r eitemau, gan feimio gweithredoedd o drais trythyll a bwystfilaidd rhwng stwffio bwyd yn eu cegau. Cynigiais: y cŵn poeth gorau o gegin Awtocrat Etholedig Holl Wlad Meryk, potiau peint yn llawn gwin sudd bedw (a photiau o baent gwaedrudd), a phowlenni salad gyda channoedd o lygod siwgr ynddynt. Dywedasant dan beuo:

 

“Anoddach o lawer ei ddilyn na’r llwybr aswy ydy’r un de, sy mor gamarweiniol i’r rhai anwyliadwrus! Dim ond ni sy’n gallu perfformio yr hud anuniongred yn defnyddio achosiad lled-beiriannol i orfodi gwybodaeth hollol y ‘verba ignōta’ a chynhyrfu arfau unigryw o niweidiol, seico-cemegion niwmatig, cyffuriau anhraethadwy o beryglus, a thaclau ardderchog i losgi natur oll a difa amser. Trwy gyfrwng dyblu necromantig, byddi di’n defnyddio drychau, tywyllwch, ac iaith annirnadwy o’r holl nofelau damcaniaethol i harneisio egni ysbrydol y golau annihangol sy’n gweld popeth. Byddwn ni’n dy arwain di at le anghyfannedd a rhoi yn dy ddwylo clicied anadweithiol ond ansefydlog a chatalydd i danio’r adwaith. Ti fydd yn dod â’r elfen hap o dy gyd-destun anhysbys di i gychwyn proses ailadeiladu didostur ac iachâd anghymodlon. Ac ar ôl difa’r Byd â fflam las sy’n gwybod enw popeth, byddi di’n ail-greu fe â gronynnau cynfiotig wrth osgoi’r gwallau, gan ‘neud copi gwell na’r un gwreiddiol. Dere was, ymuna gyda ni, ti sy’n ofni marw gymaint: neu bydd hi’n edifar ‘da ti wir!”

 

Parai’r symudiadau creulon, y plycio, a’r ysgegio iddynt feichio wylo fel petai pob Byd ar ben, a’u lleisiau’n llawn panig a hysteria. Yn y pen draw yr oeddynt yn symud mor gyflym gan ysgyrnygu a chorddi â’u breichiau a’u coesau, chwyrnu a griddfan, nes iddynt greu cysgodion na fyddent yn ufuddhau i’r cyfreithiau arferol, a bygwth i alw ar y llys cyntefig i godi a diddymu’r holl fywyd yn y Ddinas, a’r tarantela gorffwyll ac ecstatig yn tynnu’r lle oddi wrth ei gilydd. Ac wedyn ychwanegais:

 

“Maddeuwch imi, ond rwy’n gorfod parhau! Dim ond creadures lwglyd ac mewn angen ydwyf fi, wedi’i meddiannu gan, ac yn gaeth i arian, gwaed, chwys, coludd, cachu, piso, a chuchio. Ond yn fy marn i, mae Eich Llwyredd yn dioddef o Anosognosia Rwff-Shatalotte ynghylch eich anhwylder, a myfi sydd yn deall pam. Yn y fodolaeth afreal hon, yma yn y ‘mundus alter et īdem,’ ymhlith yr holl ddrychiolaethau anghynnil, mae’n rhaid mai mor hawdd ydy i hyd yn oed chwychwi ddod i’r casgliad mai dau plws dau yw pump lawn cyn amled â pheidio. Ac wedyn pan welwch bedwar bys o flaen eich llygaid, credwch mai pump a fydd yno. Ac os hyn ydy’r unig anhawster yn peri pryder i chwi, rhyw’n gofyn i chwi pwy yn eich plith a all obeithio deall y meddyliau tywyll yn gwibio ym mhen ffŵl megis fi sydd heb hanes na chofion am fod y gorffennol yn rhy ofnadwy, a heb obeithion yn y presennol am fod y dyfodol mor frawychus? Edrychwch! Ymeflwch yn yr hyn sydd yn ddyledus ichwi!”

 

Ac felly y dechreuodd cysgod annhebygolrwydd disglair yn bwrw hudoliaeth estron trawsffurfio dros y fangre adfeiliedig, a hwynt-hwy’n meddwl y byddent fyw am byth wedi cael hyd i ryddid di-ben-draw ar y dyfroedd sydd bob amser yn symud y tu hwnt i amser a hanes ac yn cynnwys pob eiliad ar yr un pryd. Consuriais iddynt: arogleuon cymysg peli camffor, powdr babanod, a ffacbys newydd eu lladd, cri wangalon crychydd glas, llwyau sbageti enfawr wedi’u gwneuthur o aloi rhodiwm iridiwm, : serch ffyddlon morgrugyn melfed. Arthiai’r Meistri Maleisus:

 

“Byddwn ni’n dwyn oddi arnat ti leoliad, maintioli, a phendantrwydd, mynd ag awch a greddfau, pwysigrwydd ac ystyr, a dileu doethineb ac urddas, gan adael dim byd ar ôl. Wedyn, a ti heb allu weld, byddwn ni’n briwsioni dy gorff yn nghanol llif annioddefol o arogleuon, cofion, dymuniadau, a lliwiau. Byddi di’n mynd rownd a rownd drosodd a throsodd yn ddi-ball, gan ddechrau pethau heb allu eu gorffen, ailddarganfod y cyfarwydd, ac ailbrofi hen arteithiau. Bydd ein geiriau ni yn dy galon fel olew injan a heli trwchus, a’n meddyliau fel tân ysol yn dy esgyrn di. Byddi di’n cael dy weld bob amser, o bellafoedd yr Holl Fyd, yn noeth borcyn, yn hollol ddiymadferth, dan erfyn am drugaredd wrth doddi’n ddim cyn cael dy aileni i ddiodde ‘to.”

 

A dyna oeddwn i ar y groessffordd ddychmygol yn yr anialdir heb bridd ble mae pob cyfeiriad yn dod yn un a ffiwgiau arallfydol yn swyno’r synhwyrau, tynnu sylw, a chyffroi, gan fodoli mewn gofod a deimlai’n gyfyngedig ac yn ddi-ffin ar yr un pryd. Ni allwn ond ddygnu arni gyda’m menter [6]:

 

“O Arglwyddi Alaeth Anfeidrol! Trwy eich deialog odiaeth yr ydych wedi consurio o flaen fy meddwl y fath syniadau annisgwyl a delweddau na syniwyd amdanynt. A bellach ni allaf beidio ag ystyried y clowniaid na newidiant fyth a bair i bawb chwerthin na wnânt iddynt eu hunain chwerthin, er mwyn dysgu iddynt ffrwyno eu hofnau. Gadewch imi ofyn ichwi: Pwy a wna i’r croesaniaid dagreuol chwerthin? Pwy all fy modloni? Oblegid, megis rwy wedi’i ddywed o’r blaen, nid oes atebion i’r cwestiynau gorau. Ar y llaw arall, ddichon mai dim ond bregliach a wnaf oherwydd fy ofn arswydus. Eto i gyd, mae’n anwrthbrofadwy mai hyd yn oed hurtyn a all siarad yn gall i ryw raddau ymhlith y ffwlbri llwyr. Ac yn awr, gwrandewch mor astud ag y bo modd, a chredwch chwi mi: Rwy’n dywed yn hollol hyderus a chyda diffuantrwydd llwyr mai myfi sydd, mewn gwirionedd, bob tro’n hel celwyddau. Cofleidiwch Ddull Boddhad Arhosol: cymerwch heb feddwl a thraflyncwch yn flysgar!”

 

Gyda imi ddodi’r fath baradocs ger eu bron hwy, ymunai’r Siarlataniaid Siabi, wedi drysu’n lân gan fy rhesymeg ynfyd, â Dawns yr Angau a alwai ar anhrefn, anobaith, chwalfa, chwerthin chwerw, difrod, dihidrwydd, gwaelder, lluwchwyntoedd rhewllyd, ac unigedd, gan droi heddiw yn ddoe a dileu’r dyfodol. Wrth iddynt dreisio atgof cywilyddus y gor-hanesyddol a diffodd addewidion gwallgof yr ôl-ddyfodolaidd, sgrechient hwy:

 

“Ond bydd yn rhaid i ti barhau. Byddi di’n cael dy blagio gan ddyfalu di-lun, gobeithion ac ofnau rhyfedd, gwewyr anhraethol, a rhagarwyddion creu, newid, a difa, yn ogystal ag artaith gan dduwdodau, cythreuliaid, angylion, a phob gwleidydd bradwrus a chariad anffyddlon a fu fyw ‘rioed! Ac yng nghanol dy drallodion ingol di byddi di wastad yn cofio bod ni’n gasáu di gyda chas perffaith am dwyt ti’m wedi dewis caru ni, yr Hudolion Haela!”

 

Yr oedd fel petai yno bentwr o gyrff drilliedig yn jyglo eu haelodau eu hun. Wedyn, ar anterth y perfformiad gwarthus hwn mor llawn rhyfyg a chwant – diflanasant hwy – gan adael dim ond rhacs gwag, yn debyg i amdoau yn drwm gan llaid, cachu, a chwŷd yn chwifio’n heriol yn erbyn yr awyr werdd. Teimlai pe buasai’r hanner gwyll yn llenwi’r man truenus wedi gwanhau mewn ennyd, wrth i’r ardd ffyll brudd oeri, a dwysedd yr awyr godi’n gydamserol. Yn y fan, unig arwydd y Gweinidogion Gorffwyll oedd eu melltith olaf yn atseinio fel dolefain estynedig annaturiol trwy’r wybren yn hisian ac ewynnu:

 

“Ni yw’r Rheibwyr Rhyfeddol sy di dy alw a dy godi o’r dyfnderoedd er fod di wedi bod mor anfodlon ac araf wrth gyrraedd. A ni fydd yn fwrw di i lawr fel corff marw pydredig mewn i fedd eiriog yn gafael o oer am dragwyddoldeb, ble o’r braidd bydd di’n gallu symud neu anadlu wrth ganfod ein llwyddiannau gogoneddus a’n gwychder cynyddol ni. Ac yno nei di ymddiheuro ac erfyn mewn loes dros aeonau syfrdanol am dranc rhewllyd fydd fyth yn dod!”

 

Ni allwn i lai na chredu na fu dim byd ynddynt erioed, dim ond esgyrn sych wedi’u cynhyrfu gan ewyllysau cryf a lleisiau fel cythymau gan fegin ddieflig yn gwichian:

 

“Am bowltis drewllyd – yr hen fretych – y lleuen bislyd – y lama twp – yr hulpan anffyddlon – dyna genawes anniolchgar – yr hen ddiawles i ti! CER I GRAFU!”

 

A dyna’n enwedig pan wyddwn i y gallwn sleifio heibio iddynt a hedfan i ffwrdd fel y gwynt. Penderfynais hefyd mai dyna fyddai’r amser cywir i erfyn ar i Tzluktnakhu a Johgotelo ymddangos. Er mai arfer brwydro gyda’n gilydd heb ball a wnânt, gobeithiwn i y tynnent y lleill gyda hwy, a’u cadw rhag ymyrryd â mi mwyach wrth imi symud ymlaen. Dyna a wneuthum, a dyna a ddigwyddodd. Ond eto yr hawliai'r Mechdeyrnedd Melltigedig wobrwon o'r tu hwnt i'r llen, gan ddymuno meddiannu pob peth dan haul. Ac felly y daliwn ati i gynnig rhoddion yn ôl “Cân yr Haul” neu “A Davuth-e-Kanu,” a geiriau gwneuthur yn arllwys ohonof nes imi wago'n llwyr —

 

"... Belaod, bronfreithiaid, byfflos, ceffylau, ceiliogod, cigfrain, clêr, corynnod, cricsyn, cŵn, cwningod, defaid, eirth, elciaid, elyrch, ffwlbartod, geifr, gwaddod, gwenyn, ieier, lyncsod, llyffantod, llygod, moch, mwydod, nadredd, tylluanod ..."

 

Ond pan gyrhaeddodd yr amser i gwblhau'r litani ac offrymu'r Thorlin, ni fedrwn i ganu'r enw.  Wedyn, ar y gair: sgrech megis adborth acwstig gan uwchnofa, cri hir oer utgorn, a fflach poethder gan dympano cnawdol. Llithrai’r rhythmau uffernol trwof fi’n ddiarwybod i ddechrau, megis tôn o bell, nid clasurol, na phoblogaidd, na jazz, yn garlamus a bachog ond tra bygythiol a iasol ar yr un pryd. A dyna oedd rhith yr Hybarch Un Absennol a oedd wedi’i alltudio i warchod Castell Achosion Anobeithiol gyda’i dyrrau yn llawn llygaid a phigau, a’i dyredau â chyrn a chlustiau. Fe ddeuai megis tawelwch yn ei fwgwd o’r lledr melyn harddaf ac amdano gob o niwl, dan droi ei ben ymaith, cadw ei wefusau ar gloi, a gostwng ei amrannau. Trwy ymddangos yn fud ac yn ddall, cododd ef deimlad o’r ofn dyfnach ynof, wrth i’r geiriau fy llenwi a’m meddiannu, a myfi’n sylweddoli gyda’r sicrwydd mwyaf nas deallwn i fyth, na’u rheoli —

 

Tha la safe fahe tha furulu;

Sizeni la ra nara la sifi;

Thuri the thi ropupaha hapi lisapa;

E thi tha a thi sali la leni the;

Poru punu ele tha ua la thi aha;

Afi ra seho uro uhufi life sesiha;

Filisi tha hui hafa tha leri thehe lo.

 

Yr oedd gennyf ddewis. Yn llesg a digalon, fe ddechreuais i rymiala’r swyngân dro ar ôl tro, a mynd yn fy mlaen dan wegian tuag at y Ffoli Ffugiol, gan obeithio y byddai fy llais yn parhau i weithio. Ac ar y trothwy rhwng methu a llwyddo, myfi, a oedd wedi’i threisio, ond wedi brwydro megis hyena i andwyo’r cachgi o ymosodwr mor wael, a ddywedodd fy enw fy hun, a rhoddi fy hunan, bron o wirfodd calon, gan daflu popeth ymaith.

 

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[1] Dw i’n gorfod crybwyll ‘ma Ddefod Dderbyn y Kyning Kalkevork Gall. Hwn oedd yr achlysur mwya costus yn hanes Pretania hyd hynny, a’r un mwya anesgusadwy o afradlon dan yr amodau, yn enwedig o wybod bod ‘na bobl yn marw yn y strydoedd, gwerthu’u plant, a bwyta’u mam-gu a thad-cu o achos eu caledi. Dilladwyd y Monarch yn goegwych â gwisg fawreddog o ffansi yn cynnwys: hosanau sidan, llodrau melfed ac esgidiau byclau o ledr madfall lliw clared ac arnynt ddiemwntau, emraldiau a rhuddemau; tiwnig hir, lewys llaes, o sidan aur; stôl dra brodiog o liain pedwarlliwiog; cochl o ddamasg, ffwr carlwm, melfed, a satin; a phenwisg ffantastig yn cynrychioli meistrolaeth dros bob grym natur fel Pennaeth Teitlog yr Ymerodraeth Binc a Darpar Bencadfridog y Fyddin Lân. Y tu mewn i’r babell o frethyn aur fel croth wedi’i chynnal gan lu o blant bychain pendefigaidd llond eu croen, yr oedd yn rhaid i’r Cosmopolitan Seremonïol arllwys olew cysegredig o’r ffiol fendigaid i’r llwy sanctaidd (fel y dywedir) [⁑]. Wedyn (er nad oes neb a ŵyr i sicrwydd), gwnaeth eneinio’r Kyning â fe ar y dwylo, y fron, y corun, a phob un o’r naw agorfa frenhinol (ac, medd rhai camgredwyr, eu cusanu’n dyner), cyn syrthio ar ei hyd a thraethu’r Gwawd Urddo newydd (gan Leskov yn ôl y sôn): “Pob Clod i Arglwydd yr Holl Fyd; Trugarhao’r Nerth Dihysbydd Wrthym y Rhai Annheilyngaf.” (Nage’r Lloerigyn â Lwynau Llipa naeth sgrifennu a chyfansoddi hon wrth gwrs, ond Pete M. a Gertrude!). — Ff.Ll. [⁑] Dyma Prior Patriarchaidd Pretania [⁂] a ddatganodd ei fod uwch ben ei ddigon i’r Eglwys benderfynu derbyn mewn egwyddor bosibilrwydd maddau pechodau cyn marwolaeth, ond y byddai’n gorchymyn i’w gweinidogion beidio â neud y fath beth am resymau ymarferol ddiwinyddol, gan mai gwell nag addewid camarweiniol rhyddhad byrhoedlog rhag poen ydy cysgod glanhaol euogrwydd a chywilydd. — D.B.P. [⁂] Roedd yn glynu wrth ei ymyl Arwres Etifeddol y Ffon Wthio Ddurol yn ei hysbardunau mawrion euraid. Ei swydd hi oedd iro'r deyrnwialen baladiwm ac anwesu'r bêl rwtheniwm pan nad oedd y Penadur Boneddicaf a Rhadlonaf yn chwarae gyda nhw'n frenhinol. — P.M.

 

[2] Dw i’n credu bod Gertrude yn ceisio mynegi’r ymosodiadau mathemahudol canlynol yma, yn cynnwys cyfanrifau: a, b, c, d, e, f, g, h, k, m, n, p: (i) [2a+1] + 2b = 2(a+b)+1 = 2c+1; (ii) [2g].[2h] = 2(2gh) = 2k; (iii) [2d+1]+[2e+1] = 2(d+e+1) = 2f; (iv) [2g+1].[2h+1] = 2(2gh+g+h)+1 = 2k+1; a (v) [2m].[2n+1] = 2(2mn+m) = 2p. Dw i ddim yn gwybod beth mae’n olygu gan y gosodiadau eraill, ond roedd hi’n darllen llawer gan y meddyliaethydd Naxal a’r dehonglwr Steykhweydos ar y pryd.

 

[3] Ystyried nifer (e.e., “ferox”), ble mae lleoliad y symbol yn cynrychioli ei werth lle bôn deg fel arfer. Cyfrifed y gwahaniaeth rhwng dwywaith y digid unedau (2x) a gweddill y rhif (fero). Os yw’r gwahaniaeth hwn (h.y., |fero-2x|) yn lluosrif saith neu’n sero, rhanadwy â  yw’r nifer.— P.M.

 

[4] Naeth Gertrude ddweud wrtha i fwy nag unwaith pan o’n ni ar ein pennau’n hunain iddi ychwanegu cwpl o ddiferion o Bwll Tragwyddol Mlomegwlo i’r trwyth cythreulig.

 

[5] Y llythrennau Heladeg “théyta” ac “éyta” yw’r rhain, yn ogystal â’r llythyren Fretheg “khet.” — P.M.

 

[6] Roedd rhyw fath o obsesiwn ynghylch y “Pseudómenon” neu “Paradocs y Celwyddgi” gyda Gertrude, hynny yw, gosodiadau hunangyfeiriadol fel “Casgliad yr X-wyr sy’n X y rhai yna i gyd (a dim ond y rhai yna) sy ddim yn X eu hunain.” Roedd hi wedi darbwyllo’i hunan taw hwn oedd wedi distrywio rhesymeg, gan adael y Thorlin dan gwmwl o ddallineb tragwyddol. Helpiodd y syniad ‘ma gyfiawnhau’i chred taw miwsig oedd yr unig ffordd o ddatrys holl broblemau’r Byd. Ro’n i’n trio esbonio wrthi fod paradocsau o’r fath yn ddiystyr (yn ôl ysgolheigion gorau’r wlad), am dyn nhw ddim yn cyfeirio at ddim byd tu hwnt iddynt eu hun yn y byd go iawn. Mae rhai’n honni dylech ddefnyddio systemau trefnedig, ble mae cysyniad “cywir neu anghywir” yn wahanol ar bob lefel, a dim ond gosodiadau ar lefelau uwch all sôn am y rhai ar lefelau is. Eto i gyd mae eraill yn gweiddi bod hynny’n lol hollol. Mae’r ola’n dweud does dim problem yn y lle cynta am fod pob perthynas resymegol eisoes yn cynnwys patrwm beth mae’n ddisgrifio, ac felly dyw di ddim yn bosib iddi gyfeirio ato’i hunan. Dim syndod bod cymaint o feddyliaethwyr rhagorol yn mynd o’u co mor aml! Ond dw i’n dwlu ar ei cherddoriaeth hi be bynnag, ‘sdim dau ynghylch ‘ny. Falle bod hi’n gywir wedi’r cwbl! — P.M.