Glasgow, 2115 AD.

At the Sign of the Prancing Pony:

Drinking’s as good a pastime as any in a city like this, and if you’re buying, it’ll be Bonnie Dundee Single Malt for the both of us. Finest whiskey in town, and don’t let those Yamazaki purveyors of pisswater tell you otherwise. The Graham Clan, well, they go way on back, to when the skies were clear and the fields all dotted with sheep – REAL SHEEP mind you, none of this robotic nonsense some rich wanker’s got mowin his lawn… Right, so when Longshanks and his Englishmen come prancing over Hadrian’s Wall like they owned the place, John de Graham, he stood with old Wallace – have you seen the film? Freeeeeeeedom, yeah? Well the seas gave us that. Swallowed England right to the wall – and Ireland too’s the pity. But there’s no stoppin a war or high waters, so they say. I expect there weren’t much change in Glasgow, before the wars and after. It’s church on Sunday, rain on Monday, guild fights on Tuesday, and some more where that came from on Thursday, Friday’s a round at the pub to make amends, and by Saturday we’re too pissed to know our logins. Aye and it’s Friday now, so pour me a dram of that Bonnie John. A pretty lass like you, I’d rather see two of ye. I see two of your bearded thug shadow already, so the whiskey must be working. Now…what was it you were asking me about the Grahams again?

Ea Isse: The Lore of Ea

For a while men dreamed of space, planning their escape from the poisonous air, blighted fields, and trash-clogged waters of their own making. They built great ships to carry them free of Arda, the ruined earth, and out into the sea of stars. They built even the city of Numinor, set like a jewel in the deep. Ah but the ships were few, and the city housed but a score of men – the greatest minds and makers of their age, yes, but no Ark to save mankind. There would be no second homeland. (working on this)

The Fook Would Ye Be Wanting With An Electric Sheep?