Joseph J. Bailey - Gnomegeddon: The Adventures of an Untried Gnome

Centered within a luminous rotating multiverse of linked ideation, a miniscule subset of the greater Gnomosphere superconsciousness, shimmering constellations of interlinked galaxies of computation swirled in layer upon layer within Arcwhistles augmented mind. He swam in a sea of intellectual possibilities, one vibrant drop in a much larger ocean, one drop a sea unto itself.

The essence of his inner universe filled his internal purview, a lifes masterwork in a glance.

Things were not going as planned.

But really, when did they ever?

Ever since his great4 grandfather Spreesprocket Goldpulley had his Epiphany, his last great idea, and transmogrified, merging with the Omnispark and leaving Eaae behind in a flash of light and power, shifting into a higher existential plane along with most of the NUMEN in their continued exploration of the manifold macroverse, Arcwhistle had felt alone.

Toiletless toilet paper?

The solution to that minor conundrum had been the spark that caused his granda to leave him behind forever?

A triviality was the incomparable Spreesprockets final contribution to the storied tradition of Gnomish paratechnology?

Spreesprockets last words, forever recorded in the pandimensional holos viewed across the Verse, were, There is no toilet!

This from the great Gnome who invented the storied frictionless toothpick, created the incomparable race of highly evolved NUMEN, whose theories had spawned whole new branches of paratechnological thought, and who, alongside the fabled Four of the Flaming Fists, helped save the macroverse from UrDaus, the Great Devourer?

Who even used toilets on Tellanon?

Or anywhere else on Eaae, for that matter

His granda had become too caught up in Yip Chi Chuans riddles and aphorisms, Yips quest for transcendence and higher meanings, ultimately following in the footsteps of the Light Bringer himself.

Arcwhistle kept a lifetime supply of the toilet paper rolls in his bottomless pockets as a bittersweet reminder of his granda, each marked with the phrase With great toilet paper comes great responsibility.

Now, in the soft white light of his small study, surrounded by a cloud of hovering objects, assorted unidentifiable tools, and miniature autonomous assistants, Arcwhistle scratched his shiny bald head.

Taking a deep breath, he exhaled forcefully. The stress of deciding what to do with his future after completing his after-post-archmagus dissertation was getting to him. Until this point, most of his life had followed a logical progression moving from one educational institute and research project to another, strengthening his knowledge and skills along the way. With the successful defense of his after-post thesis on harnessing the metamagical residuals of energetic creation and destruction, along with a dramatic demonstration of an application of his theory, one which only blew up two learning halls on campus, his formal education had ended.

Now, he needed to move on.

He needed to branch out into the wider macroverse and find a place for himself.

One preferably not in some obscure corner of his familys convoluted multidimensional warren.

Hanging out and relaxing with the family was great, but he needed to find his place, to make his mark in the larger multiverse.

One that was preferably not a nondescript residual smear after an unsuccessful experiment. He was, after all, over a century old, capable of living on his own and thinking for himself.

As a sign of his maturity, the top of his head had gone bald, his eyebrows had blossomed, and this transformation had allowed a fascinating contingent of variform age spots to manifest with wild shapes and varieties that would be the envy of any continental land mass. The whiskers in his ears were, even now, beginning to entangle most delicately with the long gray hairs descending in exuberant waves over his handsomely protuberant ears. Lending further structural support, his voluminous grayish-white eyebrows had developed a sporty windblown look, especially when not intertwined with his riotous sideburns. Most impressively, his bulbous nose had continued growing apace with the remnants of his hair, only partially obscuring the world viewed below his lower optical horizon.

His aspirations were much grander, far greater in scope and ambition than those of his granda.

Toiletless toilet paper indeed!

The macroverse deserved more than TP!

He just had to decide what those ambitions were exactly... and what all-consuming change the multiverse pined after.

He had solved more complex problems in his sleep, when he wasnt even paying attention.

And he had no change to make any payments.

Arcwhistle shook his head in frustration.

What would he do with his life?

How could something so simple be so complicated?

Everything had been so clear until he had the freedom to choose.

Why was that?

Why were things so easy until something had to be done?

Arcwhistle sighed and rubbed his hand over top his smooth skull, toying with the subtle bumps, ridges and protuberances that gave his pate character as his hand moved.

Distracted by his thinking, Arcwhistle absentmindedly reached out, picked up the nearest drink on the counter, and took a deep gulp from the bottle. His eyes lit up as the exuberant effervescence of the drink danced and frolicked on his taste buds.

Ah!

So good!

Mr. Fizzys Fizzypop Guaranteed to Make You Gulp! Or so the label promised.

Just for the fun of it, feeling the joy and playfulness of his childhood well up as the drink filled him with fond memories, Arcwhistle closed his eyes and let the bygone days of his childhood wash through him, transported with flavor.

The belch that followedentirely unexpected and utterly delightfulshook his desk, rattled the windows of his small room, and sent many of his orbiting autonomous assistants scurrying.

What a burp it was!

So clear!

So crisp!

So invigorating!

The perfect expression of his enjoyment.

Just as Mr. Fizzys Fizzypop had promised.

Arcwhistle smiled, deeply satisfied as all his troubles fell away.

Could life get any better?

Who needed to worry when a nice, explosive sip from a cool beverage could put everything in perspective?

The satisfied smile never left his face as he collapsed to the floor, smacked upside the head by the limitless possibilities unfolding before him.

Stunned, hit by the rattling thunder of gastronomical inspirationand also the floorArcwhistle had a Great Idea.

His future played out invitingly before his eyes in the glorious paths of high intellection, subtle intuition, and all-encompassing inspiration.

Viewed from the intricate wood grains on the floor to the free-roaming herds of wild dust dragons wandering beneath the table, everything became clear to him.