The Glothic Tales Ever since that fateful decision was made to descend from the trees, stand on two legs and eat fewer bananas, humans have looked back on the decision with regret. It was at that very moment in time, when we began feeling that we were being controlled. By who, why and how is today, just as much of a mystery as it was then. As a species, we have lived our entire existence under constant control; by lords of the manor, governments, banks, moneylenders, faceless men in strange brotherhoods and manufactures of shiny objects that go beep and keep us amused for hours on end. The one unsolvable
Quick March, the planet Earth needs to be saved! The very unexpected new fourth book in The Glothic Tales Trilogy. Not from alien attack, nuclear destruction or even being hit by a misguided comet. No, Earth needs to be saved from making millions of years of painful losses for Gloth, and it falls to March Gregorian, eldest son and heir to February the Twenty-Ninth, the Supreme Potentate of the Twelve Sun Systems of Gloth to find a way to finally make Earth profitable. The obvious starting point in such a difficult assignment is of course to do some quick research and then ascertain the most lucrative tradable commodity a planet
So what’s really so new? As a kid, I was in awe of Dick Tracy’s watch phone. It was something so futuristic and wondrous, so, well, high-tech – even though the word didn’t exist back then. It was probably before the only high I can remember, which was high fidelity stereo. I loved reading comics and science fiction, and believing that by the time I turned thirty I would have a wrist phone, a portable record player and my own space ship. Travelling to the moon would be like catching a bus for a long weekend and cars wouldn’t use roads, they would fly through the air on invisible skyways.
Science fiction fact. Not as much fun. When reality exits the pages of a book or falls from the silver screen, and lobs into the lap of reality, somehow the magic of science fiction is lost. Especially when it is over my breakfast. In a severe blow to fantasy, an Italian doctor from Turin, Sergio Canavero, is in the midst of making plans to conduct the world’s first head transplant within two years. As I read the article in The Guardian (of course), over my bowl of Fruit Loops, my disappointment was replaced by a head full of crazy ideas. Yes, my head that is. The first that hit was a