The sounds of the sea and the gentle breeze must have hypnotised Lymp into a trance or unintentional sleep. She woke with a start when Khan hailed a passing fishing vessel.
”Not long now!” he said to her, pointing toward a large island on the horizon. Lymp straightened herself up and shielded her eyes to see. “I have friends there, so I will land on their private beach. I never use the marinas or docks, too many sticky beaks about! But I can get you a lift into town, if you like!” he assured her.
A good wave deposited the little rickety boat firmly on a wide white sandy beach and voices could be heard yelling a greeting. Half a dozen islanders ran to drag the boat further ashore and there was much slapping of backs and hugging. Khan lifted Lymp onto the hot sand and introduced her to his friends.
“Lost luggage, Olympia Duhdashian!” he announced with a ceremonious bow and everyone laughed. The most important matter on hand was to return to the shore shacks and continue with a long lazy lunch and copious smoking of the local herb. Khan explained to his friends that Lymp needed to go into town and one of the girls fetched a simple dress, pointing out that the bikini Lymp was wearing was pretty and everything but not suitable for attending the police station.
A long lazy hour later, Khan’s friends were driving her into town. They pulled up outside the police station and Lymp mounted the steps. She was not surprised to see the car disappear before she even opened the door.
The chaos inside the police station surprised her. She waited to be noticed at the first desk she found and eventually a harassed looking officer ambled over loaded with files. “Good afternoon” he said and Lymp offered her hand which was ignored. “What can I do for you, miss?”
Unsure of how to explain herself, Lymp launched into a somewhat stuttered account of her circumstances but was interrupted suddenly by a loud voice immediately behind her “Are you Olympia Duhdashian?” Lymp jumped out of her skin and spun around. “Yes!” she said to a much older man in a crumpled white suit. “Well, well!” came the response “How delightful!” She was led into a messy back office and directed to a seat while the man picked up his telephone and hurriedly made a call.
“We have been searching for you!” he said proudly. “Your companions will be most relieved to hear that you are safe, Miss!” Several phone calls were made and received before the man in the crumpled white suit ushered Lymp to his car and drove her to the dock where she was greeted by a coastguard officer who escorted her onto a speed boat. A short fast ride later, she was being delivered to the turquoise superyacht where Tarky and his friends were extremely grateful to see her. “Gawd, Lymp!” exclaimed Tarky, “I thought you were a goner for a bit there! We have been under arrest, nobody could leave the yacht! They thought we had killed you or something!”
Lymp felt extremely odd. She could not tell if she was ill or just exhausted. “Would you mind awfully if I just went to bed for a while?” she asked the assembly and their murmurings of approval faded from her consciousness as quickly as she could close her cabin door and fall onto the big soft bed.
The following day, Lymp was back to normal….. ish. She had showered and eaten well but was not yet inclined to join the party up on deck.
She found her iPhone exactly where she had left it and she texted “All’s well, no worries!” to her sister and Pru Dense, the PR agent. Then she explored the internet for a few terms which were sticking in her mind. Terms like Olympians, Committee of 300 and Black Nobility. Three hours later, dressed in a bikini and Raybans, she went up to the lounge and collected a strong cup of coffee.
Tarky was there, flirting with a gorgeous red haired girl who had the most perfect alabaster white skin. He nodded to Lymp and came to sit with her. “Feeling better?” he inquired and Lymp nodded expressionlessly.
“What do you know about the Black Nobility, Tarky?” Lymp asked, carefully watching his reaction. “You’ve got me there!” Tarky confessed, “Do you mean Zulus or something?” he hazarded the only guess he could muster.
”No, I mean European aristocracy, royalty even!” Lymp explained and Tarky shook his head. “Why do you call them Black?” he asked. Lymp wasn’t very sure but she suggested that maybe they chose to call themselves that for occult reasons.
“What has brought all this on?” Tarky cocked his head as if Lymp was behaving in a very unusual manner. Preferring not to mention Khan and his secret hideaway, Lymp changed the subject. “Where are we going next, Tarky? Any chance we can catch a flight back to the UK?”
Tarky felt as if he was missing something important but he dismissed it as he grumbled that he was just beginning to relax and enjoy yacht life. “We are planning a party tonight, in honour of your safe return!” and he took on a persuasive facial expression. Lymp sighed and asked “Do you think I could use a laptop or something? I need to do a bit of research on the internet.” Tarky said he had seen one in the library, a small salon next to the TV lounge. Lymp grabbed her coffee cup, refilled it and went to find the laptop. Tarky resumed his interest in the red haired girl.
At 8pm Tarky put his head around the library door and said “You coming to your party or what?” and Lymp reluctantly logged out of the laptop and switched it off.
Up on the main deck the crew had set up a banquet, beautiful lighting and a thudding sound system. Everyone was drinking champagne while lounging around and chatting loudly. Lymp piled a good selection of food onto a plate and slid into a corner of the bar to eat while people-watching. She could not force her mind to let go of the ideas she had found in her hours of research and, her curiosity piqued, she was anxious to slip away again to continue with it.
The Aquarian Conspiracy had blown her mind and she had carefully saved a useful explanation of it so that she could re-read it again later.
» The Tavistock Roots of the Aquarian Conspiracy
Also earmarked for watching later were these obscure videos among a dizzying list of others:
One concept in particular was repeatedly mentioned and it was beyond any horror story she had ever seen coming out of Hollywood. Genocide. Wholesale, indiscriminate murder of millions of people by secret, stealthy methods. By poisoning everything they touched, ate or drank. By advertising and distributing toxic medications which would heal nobody. By mandating contaminated vaccines for babies from birth.
Thanks to Khan and his introduction to another view of the world, Olympia Duhdashian felt as if she had aged a hundred years in a day.
Chapter 1 - https://francesleader.substack.com/p/the-daily-grind-of-lymp-duhdashyan
Chapter 2 - https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-duhdashyan-at-the-spa
Chapter 3 - https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-duhdashian-kerching
Chapter 4 - https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-duhdashian-disappears
Chapter 5 - https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-duhdashians-reality-shock
Chapter 6 - https://francesleader.substack.com/p/the-olympians
and here is
Chapter 8 - https://francesleader.substack.com/p/lymp-goes-down-the-rabbit-hole
Lymp learned a valuable lesson...Soilent Green never tastes the same again, after you know what it's made of.
No sympathy/empathy for her yet. We need to see what she does with this mental currency, she's been given.
Excellent installment!!👍👍