Chapter Sixty Seven:     Ontario Wilderness

Transcribed from recorded dictation, ADAM narrating -- June 1-6
Northeastern Canada: Ontario/Quebec?


7:00 am Sunday morning, 1st of June

ADAM: We've been driving all night and are still heading north, somewhere up along the border between Ontario and Quebec. I took the first shift from Toronto, Masnia's driving now. Magga still hasn't learned how to drive this big clump of skesk, so it's just Masnia and me. There's only the three of us on the bus, we've had to leave the others behind for this particular mission. Which is to find and meet a mlønoli of Nohons somewhere out in this vast wilderness... but we're not sure exactly where. This is a needle/haystack situation.

Our deadline is the Full Moon, which will occur in three days. The plan is to join up with a kha-rat in that faraway part of the world so that we can introduce those squatches to our Nokhon Nation Project, spreading the word, as it were. I suppose that makes us missionaries.

We managed to slip away from our tour convoy last night and not a moment too soon. Masnia was already beginning to generate a faint whiff of shyøma by the end of our concert. While she was still dancing onstage, oops. But she managed to isolate herself in our bus before anyone noticed it. Good thing too, Roy Thomson Hall seated a bigger audience than usual, 3600 people, so we really needed to avoid an uncontrolled shyøma-event. Actually, we timed it all perfectly, but that meant we had to leave just as the after-concert party was beginning and I had to avoid some journalists who were eagerly waiting to interview me. Sorry guys. Melly was going to step in and take care of all that.

It felt weird taking off without Mel and Liss or Pokey, Mike and Maki, but this was necessarily a Nokhon-only expedition that would have been a grueling hardship for them: days of driving narrow wilderness trails into the Canadian nowhere. We weren't doing it for fun, we weren't even sure we would succeed in finding the particular mlønoli we had telepathically bumped into during our last kha-rat at the Hacienda, but we felt obligated to attempt a physical visit to inform them and offer membership in the Nokhon Nation. Since we'd be "in the area", y'know.

It's just that the "area" is really huge-- all of Northeastern Canada! --and we have no place names we can refer to on any map-- which none of us can read anyway-- so we'll have to find those Nokhons telepathically, which can be pretty iffy.

When I say "telepathically" the word is correct enough, but that ability is not something any of us have any personal control over, we're not reading individual minds but experiencing a collective Vision. It only happens during a kha-rat, when all participants are already in an alternate psychic state due to the effects of shyøma, psychotropic mushrooms and absolutely uninhibited group sex. Physically that feels like being a wild animal unleashed, at one with Nature, but mentally it connects us with a Group Mind, with augmented intelligence and awareness.

And since just about every Nokhon everywhere on the entire planet Earth is participating in a kha-rat during the Full Moon, that Group Mind can become quite universal. Information is exchanged, not necessarily as words, but as... well; call it "data" as a frame of reference you can comprehend. In other words, we Nokhons are made aware of our fellow Nokhontli all over the world. That's why the Nokhon language is the same everywhere, unlike human speech, which has evolved to be different everywhere.

We had been made aware of a large mlønoli somewhere in Northeastern American continent, although without any frames of reference that might coincide with Civilization's modern navigational systems. Roughly "thataway" was about as close as we could get. But that telepathy will not be available to us until almost Full Moon, when the group minds will again awaken (kind of like werewolves, I guess). We had only a general impression of a vast expanse of wilderness, far from all skesk or any trappings of human civilization, endless forest laced with many lakes. So we could only drive North from Toronto up into the "land of ten thousand lakes" and see how close we could get before the Group Mind would awaken and guide us to where we needed to end up. Like I've already said: iffy.

We took the Freeway out of Toronto, aiming for North Bay, which was only a couple hundred miles away and we passed through about 3: am, pretty fast going although the Freeway kept becoming normal highway and afterwards became sporadic back roads, slowing us down. We've chosen an area near the old mining town of Cobalt, Ontario as a maybe-starting point because there have been so many Bigfoot sightings around there over many years. We had done some Internet research back home and it seemed to match up with some of the impressions we had gotten telepathically, but of course it was really only guesswork, we could easily be off by a thousand miles. Maybe it's silly to even try, but here we are anyway, rolling down the road.

Okay, we're pulling into Cobalt now. It's not very big for an old mining town that is supposed to have a tourist industry, but there are small lakes all over the place so it's nicely scenic. I see a tall water tower...

Aha-- there's a roadside café here, the Sunshine Diner. We could do breakfast. Magga and Masnia like Pancakes. Me too, actually. Magga still isn't smelling of shyøma --being about twice Masnia's age it takes her a few hours longer to get flowing-- so she and I can go into the diner together, let the locals know the Bigfoot are coming. But Masnia will have to wait out here in the bus. Sorry, love.

MASNIA: "Hey, just bring me a plate of blueberry pancakes with maple syrup, then I'll be happy."


1:30 pm Sunday 1st of June

We've made quite an impression on the locals of Cobalt, Ontario. They'd never before seen Sasquatches driving a bus and looking for other Sasquatches. At least they don't think we're crazy for believing in Bigfoot. In fact, most of them knew exactly who we are, they may be out in the boonies but they have TV and Internet. They had even heard that Squatch & Friends were doing a concert tour in Toronto and Montreal. But they were surprised that we'd come to Cobalt. Until we mentioned all the Bigfoot sightings we'd heard about and then it made perfect sense.

Word about us got around that little town amazingly fast and locals were showing up at the diner wanting to tell us their own Bigfoot stories. There's a lot of them, going back many years-- many experienced before the world knew that Bigfoot actually exists (because of me, the Baby Bigfoot of Monroe, Washington)-- stories untold before because back then witnesses were accused of being fools or liars. We began to feel we were in the right place to start our search.

One of the local story tellers was this guy in his early 30's named Robert Burns, just like the Scottish Poet (1759-1796) who wrote Auld Lang Syne. He was amused that a Bigfoot (me) knew who his namesake was and could quote poems he'd written (I took English Poets 201 at the UW). Actually, he was just as entertaining, reporting how he'd met two Bigfoot in the woods when he was sixteen years old and spent a few hours with them, sharing his lunch and trying to communicate with them. He hadn't been afraid at the time and remembered the incident as a high point in his life, wishing he could meet them again. So he was glad to meet me and tell his story to someone who would believe him.

We spent about four hours in that diner and could have stayed longer except that Magga also began to smell of shyøma so we had to get out of there fast. Now we're driving a bit farther and deeper into the wilderness, hopefully in the right direction. It's still too early to be getting any telepathic hints, although shyøma must be beginning to flow in all Nokhon females by now. By tonight we could be getting some psychic activity.

So it's a matter of waiting now. We'll find a place to park and get some sleep. I'm really tired after driving all night.


8:30 am, Monday 2nd of June

I slept pretty well: almost to dawn. But I was awakened by raging horniness, since both of my Nokhon True Loves are hot with shyøma right now. We'd slept outside for the fresh air and I'd gone a ways upwind, but it seems I was too close anyway.

This is always the hard part, when the full moon is still two days away but everyone is really really ready for a whole lotta insane wild sex here and now. But we may not yøramma yet. Or at least not according to the rules, which we bend in a lot of other ways-- I mean, we are traveling in a BUS, a mobil mountain of forbidden skesk-- so we're hardly Atli fundamentalists, Magga and Masnia and I.

Admittedly, sometimes I do cheat a little, but usually only with Mel and Lis, because they are not really part of the shyøma culture, although they get as turned on as I do when it's in the air. But for us squatches the required celibacy before a kha-rat builds up a charge of magical power. The kind of magic we need for telepathy, for example, so we really do not want to dissipate that. We'll just have to play by the rules and endure the horniness for a couple more days.

We drove for another four hours, but now we've stopped by a little lake surrounded by woods. We may have to change direction if-and-when we finally make contact with someone, so we don't want to drive too far in the wrong direction. We're really in the boonies here, which is where we need to be.

There must be a million lakes around us here, almost as much water as there is land. Not many roads and we have to stick to them with the bus, we don't dare go off-road. So rather than driving aimlessly, we took a walk around, ran up a mountain. We even tried the squatch call, not expecting a response, but why not try, right?

It was good to spend some time out of that bus, where the concentration of shyøma was becoming deadly. Outside there wasn't much breeze, but the smell of the girls got more diffuse and we could walk at a distance from each other. Not very romantic, I know, but then there ain't much romance about shyøma. It's like strictly business.

I'd normally think of Canada as being really cold, deep snow, etc. But this summer's just about as hot as Southern Mexico was. At least the scenery's really beautiful here, but the weather condition is... I guess a normal human would consider it "unbearably hot and muggy" although it's just fine for us squatch-folk. It's a good thing we don't have the rest of the band along for the ride. The mosquitoes might also be a problem for them, these bugs are a lot bigger than any I've seen before and they swarm ferociously. Even we squatches had to go find some kind of repellent, smearing our exposed skin with juice from a bush that grows in the forest. Magga mixed it, ever the bruja, you know.

We just got back to the bus a few minutes ago, it's well over midnight and now that we're here none of us wants to sleep inside, preferring to lie out in the woods and breathe fresh air. Shyøma makes it hard to sleep, you just keep grinding. Magga and Masnia are trancing out together, trying to feel out any telepathic presences around, but it's probably still just too early lunar-cycle-wise.

Wait, now they say they might be dimly sensing some psychic waves growing and beginning to shimmer. Maybe by morning. I sense nothing, as usual, being a telepathic dunce. So I think I'll just sleep.


6:00 pm Monday, 2nd of June

It looks like our gamble might be paying off. Magga and Masnia agree that they've sensed a psychic buzz from what could be a sizeable group of Nokhon females. A calling to a kha-rat in the early hours of dawn. It was vague and far away, but clearly to the Northeast, so at least we had a direction to pursue. We drove that way.

Or tried to. There are so many lakes in this part of the world that nothing lays in a straight line, the land is like Swiss cheese, and it is so easy to get lost on dead-end trails. At least the land is more or less flat, not mountainous like Washington State, more like rolling hills. We do have several geological survey maps of Northeastern Canada to show us where roads go, but it doesn't help that none of us can read English writing, we can only look at the pretty squiggles and try to guess what they mean.

There are no obvious targets, like towns or villages, this is all total wilderness. The two-lane highways had become logging roads, then hunting trails. But at least when we did see a Canadian road sign I could decipher the numbers if I took enough time to study them, then refer to the map, which helped us to stay on track. Good thing we had filled the tank while in Cobalt. Being lost squatches out of gas in a stranded bus was not part of the plan.

We spent the whole day driving deeper into the land, farther from civilization, or closer? not sure if we were on the right track or not. We've been dead-ended several times and had to backtrack, until it seemed that was all we were doing. I was watching the fuel gauge, knowing that when we hit the half-full/empty mark we'd have to make a decision.

Finally we came to a dead end at a small lake with a spectacular almost-mountain on the other side, offering a sheer cliff like a wide wall of granite. I turned off the motor and took a break to study our situation. We went outside and sat in the sunshine, weary of being inside the bus. Masnia closed her eyes and went into a trance to see if there was any messaging going on. We hadn't heard a buzz for the last six hours and were becoming discouraged about making contact.

But suddenly Masnia shouted, "Hey! There they are!"

When we all tuned in even I could sense them: a mlønoli's invitation to the kha-rat. No actual words, but a feeling and an image of that very mountain we were looking at! We all understood that a gathering was taking place on the other side of that mountain tomorrow night and that we were invited.

We could make it, but only on foot, we had to leave the bus parked where it was. Which was fine with us, believe me, it had been so frustrating to drive on those narrow, constantly dead-ending roads, now we could be Bigfoots!

We parked the bus deeper into the woods and camouflaged it with branches and bushes, so it wouldn't get stolen while we were gone. We hadn't seen anyone for the last 30 miles, but no use taking any chances, even though we were in Canada. We put all our valuables in a plastic bag-- wallets, phones, the bus keys --and buried it in another place. Then we oriented ourselves thoroughly so that we could find this place again. We squatches are generally pretty good at that, but we just made extra sure.

But first I called Melly to check in and say where we were (she and Liss being in Cuba right now), also to Art at the Hacienda. It's always best to let someone know where you're going before stepping into the unknown. We've also got a GPS tracker in the bus so that we can send someone to find it again if we don't make it back this way. Just in case.

We can't take any skesk with us, not even our clothes or my smart phone, so I'll have to end this recording and take up when we get back, hopefully after a kha-rat.


9:00 pm, Thursday the 4th of June

We just got back to the bus about an hour ago, very happy to see that no one has stolen it or broken in. Also very glad to have made it in time, because it was a long, hard trek and we're in a hurry now. We're supposed to be on scene in Montreal latest 8:00 Saturday evening. We do have almost two full days to get there, but we also have to make a stop in the town of Cobalt on the way to deal with our six extra passengers-- Nokhons --and that will certainly cost us most of a day.

(sound of bus motor revving up, clunking into gear, accelerating forward at a modest speed. SCREAMS of six terrified squatches)

Okay, now we're on our way. Masnia is at the wheel, so I can narrate a recording.

As for our intention to contact a local group of Nokhontli and spread the word about the Nokhon Nation Project, that would have to be considered a success. Almost too much so. We did find a mlønoli that accepted us to their kha-rat, but now we have to figure out what to do with these six squatches who want to join the NNP. Maybe it was dumb of me to try to pull this off with so little time, but then any kha-rat during any full moon is always going to be limited to a finite moment, but it's the only time the communities gather. We'd have to wait a month for the next opportunity, so screw it.

Let me tell the story properly.

It was about 7:00 pm of Monday evening when Magga, Masnia and I left the bus and started hiking towards the telepathic signal we were getting. We had to start by crossing the lake, which was only a mile wide at that point, so we swam. All squatches can swim so it was no problem escorting Magga and Masnia to the other side. In fact, they were hard to keep up with, no frail flowers those two. We had several miles of thick forest to pass through, dry stream beds, waterfalls to navigate, and then we were up against that sheer granite wall. It was between us and our destination, too wide to go around, so we had to climb it.

I've called it a mountain, even though it was just one more of those rolling hills, but it was definitely the highest around and presented a real challenge. Humans may take on escarpments like that as a sport but squatches generally don't like to risk their lives in contests against nature. Of course, we're physically stronger than you guys, but we're also a hell of a lot heavier, so the risk balances. But the granite wall was solid, our finger-and-toeholds held and it went smoothly. It took about an hour to reach the top and then it was a flat rocky plateau.

We came upon a bear, right in our path, but we held back and allowed it to wander away. It's rare they attack squatches, we're generally too big, but you never know what a bear will do. Especially a grizzly, but this was only a black bear and evidently not hungry. Plus there were three of us.

We also saw herds of moose off at a distance, and foxes running by, but we never saw any people, neither hikers nor hunters nor campers. No roads, just some deer trails, everything seemed untouched by man. Which made sense, that's where Nokhons will prefer to be.

The sun went down but we kept on going. There was light from an almost-full moon for most of the night, and then the sun came up again. We were not quite in the land of the midnight sun, but pretty far north and the night was short. We knew we still had a long way to go so there was no time to sleep.

We had to swim across a bunch more minor lakes, trek through miles of dense forest, but no real hardships for healthy squatches. We did stop for a quick nap once we could sense that we were only a few hours away and like for any party anywhere, we didn't want to arrive too early. I made sure to nap at a longer distance from my girl friends, their shyøma was driving me crazy with desire. I wasn't really looking forward to drowning in the fragrance of a whole flock of ripe and horny lady squatches. Oh, okay, in a way maybe I was looking forward to it.


We could smell them well before we saw them, gathered in a big bowl-shaped clearing in the middle of some very thick forest, on an otherwise steep slope on the back side of another almost-mountain. We came up the hill following the telepathic pulse and ended up following the smell.

You already know about how squatches smear themselves with shit and piss so that they stink when in public? It can be really rank, even more so when shyøma is blended with the unpleasant squatch stink. Traditionally, Nokhons wash the stink off for a kha-rat, but we were suddenly among an amazingly large crowd of very unwashed hairy squatches. Whew!

The chatter-level among Nokhons is usually pretty low, it's an instinct to be quiet, to not attract attention, but none of these folk were talking to each other at all, silently waiting for the kha-rat to begin so that they could yøramma. They only turned to look at us, saying nothing. No greeting. It was unusually eerie.

At least we had arrived well before the full moon would rise, so we had time to try and break the ice. It was an impressively large gathering; there were at least 60 squatches already present and more coming all the time. And the smell got worse as more arrived. It became obvious that the tradition of squatch stink was different here than what we are used to back West in the Aket vicinity. Back home they always clean it off for a kha-rat, so that the shyøma-smell is pure... and so you don't have to be intimate with a bunch of strangers who are smeared with shit. Call me fussy, but it does tend to spoil the erotic mood.

It's always been disgusting to me so I never do if I can avoid it, but Magga and Masnia grew up with it and now neither do they, only when the strictest social rules require it. Being without stink is considered naked by traditionalists, who feel it shameful to reveal your natural body odors-- and therefore your emotions --to everyone. It's one of the Nokhon social absurdities that I'm trying to eliminate; the first rule for squatches joining the NNP is to drop the stink when visiting civilization.

Eventually we were politely greeted by a Sha-haka-ma, as is the custom. Of course, it's always awkward when strangers show up at kha-rat for the first time. I mean, we're here to join them for group sex; do they really want that with us weirdos? It's hardly unusual for newcomers to be judged interesting or not, fuckworthy or not, but there were several hours before the full moon would show up, so there was time to win them over with some small talk and flirtation. But here we noticed that most of them were actually scowling at us; there was not one smiling face.

Except for that of the Sha-haka-ma, a rather pretty mature female named Maliima, who asked where we were from. The ancient city of Aket is generally well known among all Nokhons, so we introduced ourselves as travelers from there, just passing through.

We were surprised by the rather negative reaction the crowd evoked at the name of Aket. Those Nokhons who hadn't been speaking to one another now began to grumble; seemingly unanimous in the assumption than Aket was a den of iniquity, rather like mentioning Hollywood or Las Vegas at a fundamentalist prayer meeting.

But at least Maliima continued to be polite and even showed some interest. "Then welcome, Aket is very very far away I have heard. It must have been a very arduous journey." Of course, she was assuming that we had walked all that way but I knew better than to explain that we had driven in a bus. She seemed very nice, I couldn't help but lean into her shyøma even though the general stink of the crowd was almost making me gag. I found myself really wanting to have sex with her anyway and soon. I'm sure she picked up on that.

Then, like just about any young woman anywhere, she reacted to our different and exotic look: "Excuse me, but you all have such groomed and neat body hair, I like the way it looks. Is that the style in Aket?" We were suddenly aware that no one else looked like us; they were all absolutely shaggy and totally unkempt. In comparison we looked like movie stars... or rock stars, which we actually were.

"Not really," Masnia answered, "it's our own style. We trim it short for summer, let it grow in winter."

"It's so flattering," Maliima praised, "How do you trim it?"

We had to avoid mentioning our cavalier usage of forbidden skesk, at least until we were established guests. Which meant we had to avoid naming scissors or razor blades, or even sharp-edged chipped stones, any man-made artifact or tool whatsoever. Oh, and especially not electric trimming machines, which is actually what we do use. At the same time, we must not lie.

So I told the truth: "It's kind of a secret technique, but we might be able to tell you later, if that's all right."

At this time a large male, a Sha-haka according to his shoulder bag, approached us. He was slightly shorter than me but maybe twice as wide, probably a hundred pounds heavier, bushy-haired all over, barrel-chested. Oh, and scowling, but not just like everyone else, he was scowling NASTIER. He came lumbering from behind one of the stone formations and pushed his way through the crowd of Nokhons. They moved aside to let him pass, sullenly, as if they considered him troublesome. He came right to us, putting himself between Maliima and me, staring directly into my eyes with deliberate arrogance. An obvious challenge.

"You have come from that fucking hell-hole Aket?" is the essence of what he said in Nokhontli, with no pretense at being polite.

But I'm an Orator; my advantage is in my voice, so I let it take over. "Yes, we have studied at Aket. My name is Dadamet, I am an Ayø'øta." At least that got a slightly positive response from the crowd, which was paying attention now: an Orator offers what passes for entertainment to a culture that has almost none. Even the arrogant male facing me seemed to mellow out a little. So I asked him who he was.

"I am Dazar-haket, the DyoKet (authority) here, everyone must obey me."

That seemed rather bombastic: the Sha-haka-ma Maliima was the hostess for this kha-rat, and should thus be the current authority. But I didn't want to get into an argument with him, not knowing their local customs.

"Ah. Good to know," I said, playing it easy. "Well, we don't plan to cause any trouble. After all, it's a kha-rat, time for everybody to enjoy themselves, right?"

He scowled even nastier. "Enjoy the sacred kha-rat? That is a rather frivolous attitude, is it not?" Seemed he was looking for trouble.

"It is the natural attitude, is it not?" I argued, knowing he wouldn't agree.

"Natural? Animals are natural, we are Nokhontli! We adhere to the Atli, which allows for no enjoyment whatsoever."

"The Atli does not forbid enjoyment..." Masnia spoke up, being rather well versed in Atli dogma and not shy about letting people know it.

"Silence, female! The males are talking now."

"Is that supposed to be significant?" she asked, getting ready to bristle. Masnia is young, but a future Elder in the making, born with more authority that this Sha-haka Dazar-haket will ever have.

I'm still trying to defuse an unpleasant scene: "She speaks truth-- nowhere in the Atli is enjoyment held in disdain. There are the rules and the practices, how you feel about them is up to you."

He turned a sneer at me. "You look too young to be a great expert of Atli."

"That's true, I am hardly an expert," I admitted, "but Masnia IS!"

"Ha! She looks even younger than you," he countered.

"Right, but she was bred to become an Elder and has received schooling from other Elders. Don't mess with her."

Dazar-haket wrinkled his nose; he obviously didn't like being challenged in any way. "Something about you three looks all wrong, what is it?" He studied us more intensely, looking for fault. And he found one, the same one Maliima had commented, except that his perception was negative rather than positive.

"Aha, your hair is too short and neat. Hideous. Say... how can you shorten it without using skesk?"

Of course, I had no usable answer for that without admitting that we were dirty no-good skesk addicts.

But Maliima spoke up, "They told me it was a secret technique. Perhaps we should respect that." She seemed nervous about contradicting Dazar-haket, but defended us anyway. I could tell she liked me. Or maybe she liked all three of us, some new and interesting people in her life.

"Of course they want it to be secret," Dazar-haket began to rant, "because it is ø'skogome!"

"Ah, but trimming hair is not forbidden where we did it," I said.

"And where might that be?" he challenged.

I figured I may as well say it, it was why we had come here in the first place: "In the Nokhon Nation, which co-exists among the NokhSos over the entirety of this continent."

"Among the NokhSos? You mean in the land of our enemies?" He was shocked.

"They are not necessarily our enemies. Until recently they did not even know we existed, because we have diligently kept ourselves secret from them."

"Ra, because the Atli has so instructed us!" This was his all-destroying argument, delivered with a cruel sneer to compliment his nasty scowl.

"Actually, not really," I said with absolute confidence. Followed by dramatic pause, a standard orator trick, but effective.

The eyes of many of the younger squatches popped wider open and I could clearly see that they too were shocked, but in the good way. They were obviously hoping that this orator from afar could say some sort of magic word that would somehow release them from the strict joyless existence they had been coerced to endure for all of their lives. Even Dazar-haket stopped talking, mouth open, wondering what anyone could possibly say that could trump the infallible Atli.

The only way to do that was to quote the rules of Atli: "It is intended that the Nokhontli shall dwell in isolation, ideally in twos and threes, separate from all other races, perfecting their spirit through study of the Atli and contemplation thereof..."

Standard Atli rule, business as usual, so I had to make another dramatic pause before making my point with the next word in the text: Kashaamph, which translates more or less as although, a conjunction leading into a nice handy escape clause:

"...although, study congregations SHALL BE permitted for the purpose of learning necessary skills and wisdoms." A clause that permitted the existence of educational centers like Aket and Shamballah, for the necessary training of future Sha-hakas.

"Or, by extension," I informed those young hopefuls at the kha-rat, "our Nokhon Nation Project language school. Because the exploring of the world beyond this forest is in itself a learning experience that offers new skills and wisdoms. Thus it must be permitted."

"Blasphemy!" Dazar-haket shouted, "Never have I heard such an interpretation of Atli!"

"Do you not train new Sha-hakas among yourselves?" I asked.

"No, we already have all the Sha-hakas we have use for!"

A voice from the crowd, "Meaning only yourself?" Another hint that there was dissention in the ranks.

By now the entire crowd was caught up in our little show and had moved in a lot closer. I hadn't planned on going into a major debate upon arrival, but the scene had been set, a challenge had been issued and there was drama in the air. I was encouraged to note that several of the younger folk in the audience seemed genuinely interested and perhaps even open-minded for a squatch. I sensed that my opponent was a bit of a bully and not very popular, so folk were at least half-sympathetic.

"But still," another voice from the crowd, "we fear the NokhSos because of their noisekillers and their destructive ways. We have seen how they have handled the Red NokhSos. Why would we ever want to wander among them?"

"It's true," I conceded, "some White NokhSos have behaved badly, but so has almost every other race on this planet at some time, including the Nokhontli. An ideal behavior would be a fair balance of power between the society and the individual. It is up to the society to develop morals and ethics, establishing laws for everyone's protection. The NokhSos on this continent have been trying to do that, although without us.

"But now the Nokhon Nation is also taking part in the process of generating laws that guarantee Nokhons the same rights and privileges as all NokhSos. That means that we now have a forum in which we can speak up so that greedy NokhSos cannot simply take all the land away from us who live in the forest. That means we can teach them how not to destroy the world. That means that we also can be free to travel freely and experience this entire planet, not just our little patch of woods."

Dazar-haket was now sputtering with rage, I thought he might hit me, but he didn't seem to dare in front of a crowd that was becoming sympathetic to what I had to say. But he quickly found something else to criticize:

"Wait! There's yet another wrongdoing!" He moved closer to me and sniffed, then scowled twice as much. "You have no stink! You are naked in public!"

"Oh that," I pooh-poohed, "where we come from it is the tradition to bathe before a kha-rat, to clean off the stink and enhance the shyøma. We were surprised to learn that you do not. It was not meant as an offence."

"We used to do that too..." Maliima mentioned, but Dazar-haket cut her off with his usual "silence" to any female. However, she and I had a quick exchange of glances and I picked up that he was the reason this mlønoli had become so strictly joyless.

"Everything from Aket is an offence or a violation of Atli," he said with great wrath, an Old Testament demagogue ready to destroy some sinners.

"Well, that may be your opinion," I said, unwilling to cringe before this asshole, "although it's clear you've never even been to Aket. You seem to be more interested in promoting your own ego than any true meanings of the Atli."

I heard a collective "grunt" from the gathering of squatches and understood that most of them were fed up with being subjugated by this particular Sha-haka. Many of these folk were almost on my side-- or at least, not on his side. Most squatches are devout believers in Atli, but it's always a matter of interpretation. He was a Sha-haka and therefore the "wisest man" in town, who determined the prevailing interpretation, which was very strict and joyless. And unpopular, evidently.

I'm not yet a graduated Sha-haka, so he "outranked" me... except that I am an Orator, bred and born with certain gifts that gave me a special status. And I was backed up by Masnia, a young potential Elder, as well as Magga, a graduated Sha-haka-ma. Plus, we were from far-away Aket, where revolutions actually happen.

Dazar-haket was clever enough to try to get some folk to back him up. So he attacked verbally. "Tell me, have you ever met their accursed Negotiator?"

That Negotiator just happens to be me, of course, although this guy hadn't figured that out yet. But I was already aware that I was dealing with a semi-dangerous demagogue who was not about to surrender his power to anyone else.

"Just what do you know about The Negotiator?" I asked, side-stepping his question.

"I know ALL about The Negotiator. He is half NokhSo and half Nokhon and therefore abomination; he strives to subvert the Rule of Atli and destroy the Nokhon way of life; he worships and masturbates with skesk; he has engineered a wicked revolution in Aket and is presently dedicated to murdering all the holy Elders of the One True Starda Faction in far-away Shamballah."

"No, I've never met that guy," I could say, since that was true in several ways, "because he doesn't exist. I'm afraid you've got your lies mixed up..."

"You accuse ME of lying?"

"Naw, I accuse Da-starda-hat of lying, but if you follow him you are believing his lies."

The crowd was encouraging me, which made Dazar-haket back off slightly. "All right, prove you are an orator-- recite a pertinent passage of Atli."

"Okay, fair enough," I looked over to Magga and Masnia and they winked back: we were in. The crowd had warmed to us for defying their unpopular leader and now I was going to entertain them with a narration from the Atli.

I chose a funny story, to lighten up this very somber crowd. It may seem that there is no humor in the Atli: there is-- but it's Nokhon humor and you NokhSos just don't get it. Just as the Book of Job in the Old Testament is one big joke, but you have to be Jewish for it to seem funny. Dagrolyt taught this one to me and then had to explain again and again before I ever understood the punch line.

A group of male Nokhontli were walking along through some endless woods. They met a group of females walking the other direction. It just happened to be a full moon that very night, there was shyøma in the air and everyone was horny, so they all agreed to have a spontaneous kha-rat. They could meet when the full moon rose.

But one of the males was greedy-- like the tiny hairless NokhSos --and he wanted all the females to himself and not to share with the other men. So to the males he said, "I know a perfect place for the kha-rat; a great stone hilltop that offers a magnificent view as we yøramma, let us meet there!"

But to the females he secretly said, "I know the perfect place for the kha-rat; a sweet valley with flowers and luxuriously soft grass to lie upon as we yøramma, let us meet there!"

When the full moon arose all the males except one waited on the hilltop, and the greedy male waited in the valley.

But the females never showed up: none of them had any desire for greedy or stupid males, so they continued on their way through the endless woods.

The crowd was amused. Not that they broke into raucous laughter, squatches don't do that, but they did titter, smirk behind hands, very controlled. They also relaxed and began talking to one another.

But Dazar-haket did not like that at all; he wanted to keep his subjects in line. So he took offence again, "One does not trivialize the sacred words of Atli!"

"Nor does one deliberately misinterpret them," I shot back.


It was almost time for the kha-rat to begin, the glow of the moon was lighting up the horizon. I got an idea to turn this kha-rat into a liberating event. I asked the Sha-haka-ma Maliima if there was flowing water nearby.

She said "Ra, a stream passes just behind those stone formations."

"Then let us all rinse our bodies of stink and celebrate the kha-rat as intended according to the Atli!" Masnia announced.

"No, that is forbidden!" Dazar-haket shouted.

"According to you, but not the Atli," I informed him.

"You have perverted the text..." he began to accuse me.

"No, this Orator speaks the words properly," an older squatch interrupted, daring to correct Dazar-haket, "I know the passage. In fact, I have mentioned this to you before, but you insist upon having things your way."

"My way is the way of the Starda Faction, the true Elders of Shamball..."

That was all I needed to hear, this guy was not just an asshole, he was Our Enemy.

"You spoke of murders committed by the Negotiator, which is untrue," I proclaimed for all to hear, "Yes, there have been murders, but all committed by Da-starda-hat in his quest for personal power. He and his entire Starda Faction are corrupt and have perverted the assembly of the Nine Elders of Shamballah by killing six of the original Elders and putting himself and his sycophants in their place."

"No, you lie!"

"I am an Orator, I cannot lie."

"That is so;" the brave old squatch dared once again, "an Orator cannot lie."

"Then he lies about being an Orator."

"You and we all heard him recite the Atli, words and inflections: he IS an Orator."

Others joined in: "We have all become aware that the Nine Elders have become unstable." And: "The last three remaining original Elders of The Nine have complained about how their other six colleagues have died in suspicious ways, all to be replaced by Starda disciples." "It is common knowledge that now they fear for their lives."

I might have been tempted to announce that three of my friends were in Shamballah at this very moment to deal with Da-starda-hat, but that could be putting them in danger. There were obviously Starda Faction loyalists here, especially Dazar-haket, who considered himself DyoKet, although it was obvious that his authority was now being questioned by many in the crowd.

In fact we had a little revolution right then. A baptism, call it what you want. The crowd was tired of Dazar-haket's shit and they wanted to wash it away.

Maliima led us to the stream behind the rocks, Magga, Masnia and I right behind her. The rest of the crowd followed as well. The stream was large enough to allow many of us into the water at once. The shit got washed away, the water became brown, but the squatches became clean. It was a shame to pollute that little creek; I just hope nobody was living downstream. But soon the water was clean again and so were all of us.

It was an entirely different crowd of squatches than when we had arrived: people had become jolly, excited, were talking to each other, even smiling. We could see that they had been suffering under the arrogant leadership of Dazar-haket. They needed a change and we just happened to be the catalyst. So by the time the full moon was rising over the trees we were being offered the psilocybin mushrooms that mark the official start of a kha-rat.

The chanting of "Ma-ket", the moon arriving above the horizon, the crazy mass sex; same old stuff every kha-rat, you'd think it would get boring. But when everyone is THAT horny it's sort of the only game in town.

Magga and Masnia and I had been ravenous for each other over the last three days, so gave ourselves some personal attention. I seemed to be having both of them simultaneously; we must have shared 15 orgasms between us in a matter of seconds. Then Maliima insisted next, although Dazar-haket tried to get in the way, but she brushed him off. It got very frantic. All those folk had been inhibited by Dazar-haket's strict ways for too long, everyone was busting loose. It was fun for them.


After the orgy came the vision. We all got woozy, lay down and went into a trance, as one does at a kha-rat. We saw a gigantic full moon, horizon to horizon, quite spectacular; so close-up that I could easily make out what NASA calls the Sea of Tranquility. I perversely tried to discern any signs of Apollo or other moon landings, but it was still too far away. Or perhaps junked lunar skesk is just not permitted in the Nokhon vision experience. It would be kind of an irritations-moment for their own perception of the moon.

Then we were all taken on a tour of the Nokhon world: various mlønoli and smaller groups of squatches around the planet faded in and out of view. They were also attending the full moon, some still waiting for it to rise in their location on the spinning earth, others watching it sink out of sight. Some in daylight, some in darkest night. I recognized a fleeting image of the Town Square inside Aket, probably because three of us were from there and all these folk had been thinking of it. I even saw The Three Elders-- Da-nama-hat, Ma-stinta-hat and Da-tobor-hat-- and the usual students NOT having an orgy. There was longer glimpse of a city that had to be Shamballah, surrounded by deep snow somewhere between mountains so high that they had to be the Himalayas. I looked to find our three friends who were supposed to deal with the evil Starda Faction, but there was no real information or images of them. The vision moved along to address the concerns of the local folk here in Ontario, which didn't mean so much to us. But then I recognized those females we had met in the jungle of southern Mexico, and a scene that could only have been the Outback somewhere in Australia, some mountains and fjords probably in Norway. There must be Squatches all over the world, although never in large numbers.

Suddenly a close-up of a really ugly Nokhon, an evil-looking sonofabitch, with deformed face and figure. Warts, patchy hair, big blubbery lips, tiny eyes, it fit descriptions I'd heard, so even though I'd never seen his face before I knew it was Da-starda-hat, my mortal enemy. My guess was confirmed by a howl of approval from Dazar-haket, "My master!" he called out in misplaced pride. A few others backed him up: also adherents to the Starda Faction, I assumed. Not many, perhaps four or five squatches out of the 70+ gathered there. Most folk said nothing, but not so much in protest, than in dread, I could sense.

Remember that we are all tranced out at this time, flat on our backs gazing up at the moon, too stoned to react physically. I wasn't sure if those yells had actually been vocalized, or if I'd only imagined them. The vision continued on, still showing Da-starda-hat's face, although changing constantly. Suddenly he was no longer ugly, but beautiful. He looked like the kindest, most enlightened guru who had ever existed, surrounded by a golden aura, certainly a god. I became convinced that he must be good, suddenly felt that I loved him and would dedicate myself to being a good Nokhon and serving him without question.

Even though part of my mind was telling me; wait a minute, something's way off here. I've grown up in the modern world of TV and advertising; I was familiar with propaganda and aware of how it works. Nokhons don't have any experience with that, so have no defenses for it. But fortunately, a telepathic vision shared by many minds cannot be dominated by one individual. It's not like presenting a fixed and edited video message; it is volatile and subject to constant critical input from other minds. Da-starda-hat's face crumpled back into ugliness, his golden aura turned dark.

The next close-up image of the vision surprised me: it was my own face. There were no words but it was understood that this was The Dreaded Negotiator, he who would bring change to the Nokhon way of life, for better or worse.

Understand, it was neither a video nor a photograph of me, such images don't exist in the Nokhon world; there was no skesk-camera present to take a color or b&w picture of me in any defined moment of time. This was a composite blend of how various Nokhons perceived me: some with fear; some with affection; a few with hate or love.

I could recognize Da-starda-hat's distant disdain and Dazar-haket's very local dislike, trying to cast me as hideous and ferocious, but that overall image was also tempered by the immediately intense love of Magga and Masnia, and even the new-found affection of Maliima and a few of the other females I'd just been intimate with at this kha-rat, all of which tended to make the image of me look more loveable. Or maybe that image was affected by every Nokhon I'd ever met, I don't know.

But this vision was also subject to every squatch who feared that this negotiator was dedicated to betraying the Nokhon people to the NokhSos with their murderous noisekillers and screaming chainsaws and total disregard for nature, in which case I looked just as ugly as Da-starda-hat had.

The image changed again, became more complex, many different faces swirling in and out, mostly Elders. A few I recognized, most I did not, having no idea who they were. I was glad to see the Three Elders of Aket, projecting a friendly aura that seemed to be intended to protect me, zooming in to Da-nama-hat, my old grandfatherly friend. A scowl was aimed at Da-starda-hat's image, clearly accusing him of being a really bad dude.

Then I did hear words-- I think, it was hard to tell. "Death to the Negotiator!" I sensed danger: a real physical threat from nearby, but I was confused, still deep into the vision and it was difficult to open my eyes. But somehow I found myself staggering to my feet and twirling blindly with no understanding of what was happening, when I felt a wind pass my face and heard the crash and crunching of heavy stone from where my head had just been. I finally managed to get my eyes open.

There were three individuals standing unsteadily among a crowd of dormant Nokhons, all of them still mesmerized by the vision. I happened to be one of them. Another young male was vigorously wrestling with an older male, whom I finally recognized as Dazar-haket. Then I noticed the large stone that had almost crushed my head and finally understood: Dazar-haket had just tried to murder me; the young male had saved my life.

I kicked Dazar-haket´s leg out from under him, making it easy for the young male to throw him down. Then we both held him there. I was tempted to punch him in the face, but Nokhons just don't do that. You can't just knock someone out like they do in the movies, where it looks easy; you're more likely to break teeth or cause a concussion, but we needed to subdue him until the others came out of their trances. So we both sat on him.

But he was strong and kept struggling. He was also shouting, which disturbed enough folk that they began coming out of the vision, or maybe it was over. And suddenly Masnia and Magga were beside me. I didn't even have to explain, Masnia did her Alutna-trained tap-the-forehead trick and Dazar-haket passed out.

I thanked the young male for coming to my rescue, his name was Dasharret. It was pure luck that he'd been awake enough to interfere-- or Destiny, or Fate, who knows? He'd been lying almost beside Dazar-haket and had been disturbed by hearing him shout "Death to the Negotiator", which must have seemed dramatic enough to snap him out of the vision trance. He saw Dazar-haket go find a big rock (in the 250 pound category) and carry it towards where I lay basically helpless. By the time the rock was raised up and aimed at my head Dasharret was already on his way to stop Dazar-haket. He managed to shove it aside so that it missed me.

"That was pretty gutsy," I told him, "considering that he's the DyoKet of your mlønoli."

"You kidding me, man?" I'm paraphrasing, of course, but that's the young-guy way he spoke. "Dazar-haket says he's our leader but nobody respects him, he's a selfish bully and a mean tyrant. We're all really tired of him. Man, I really hope we can get rid of him now."

By now a crowd had formed around us and folk knew what had almost happened. I knew Dazar-haket had some supporters, so I wasn't sure if there was going to be more trouble, but most of them crowd was sympathetic to me even though they were now aware that I was the infamous Negotiator. They'd seen me in the vision. It always helps to be a celebrity.

As for Dazar-haket, attempted murder is not at all acceptable to the Nokhontli; he was exiled, for the moment at least. After all, he hadn't really killed anyone... yet. The Sha-haka-ma Maliima officially declared him kronoke and there were no protests in his favor.

But then I was expected to explain my role as negotiator between Nokhons and NokhSos, so I gave a little speech. I told them I had received my instructions in a Spirit Vision, which squatches tend to respect. I told them how we could not ignore the NokhSos and their technology, and that, yes, those pesky humans do tend to steal and destroy everything, but we can only teach them how to behave if we communicate with them.

Anyway, those Nokhons bought it. I think what had been revealed in the kha-rat vision had made them aware of the nuances, that some feared any change at all, but others agreed that change might be inevitable, they'd already seen it happening in the land around them. I think it was an easier sell in Canada than in the USA, because Canadian humans tend to behave better than Americans.

And I gave my pitch to the young: about how their lives could be a lot more interesting if they saw some more of the world than the same old forest they'd grown up in. How there was a New World out there just waiting for them, adventures to be had. Go West, young man... There were murmurs among the young squatches, as if they were tempted by the idea.

Of course there were also grumblings from the older folk, devout believers of the Atli, but they didn't try to lynch me because our latest common vision had reminded them that the Atli was meant to be interpreted. Like all Holy Scriptures, if you were familiar with it you could always find phrases to argue your point, pro or con. Myself still no complete master of Atli; I had learned just enough usable quotes to legitimize my actions to the devout.

After that, back to kha-rat sex. Yes, that, ho hum. I only mention it because the nice Sha-haka-ma Maliima was especially attentive to me, so much that I had almost no time for any other females than Masnia, Magga and Maliima. Part of that was because I wanted to devote my love to my own mates, but probably also because most of the other females present were afraid of me, or rather, The Negotiator. Which was fine with me, I was keeping busy just with the three of them and an occasional adventurous female from the mlønoli. I also liked Maliima very much, it certainly wasn't a chore to yøramma her, which it can become at a kha-rat, since every male is duty-bound to service every female who spreads her legs for him. Shyøma is powerful, but it's not love.

Fortunately, dawn comes early up North and the kha-rat was over, although many enthusiastic participants like to keep the sex going, especially those without an everyday partner to go home with. Generally, most squatches are mated, but more for company than sex. It's impossible for everyday sex to compete with the hysteria of a kha-rat, so a lot of couples just lose interest until the next full moon.

But Masnia, Magga and I had each other and somewhere else to be: we had to get to our next concert in Montreal in very few days and we had a long way to go. We knew it was 433 miles from Cobalt, which we could drive in 7½ hours, but we weren't near any kind of starting point yet, being a day's hike back to our bus, which was parked over 100 miles deep into the Canadian wilderness. So we had to get going.

But it wasn't that easy to leave. For one thing, several of the young males were interested in taking up our suggestion of exploring the world and wanted to know more about where to go and how to do it. For another, Maliima was really unhappy that she might never see me again-- I'd say she was in love, but squatch females don't do that. Although when I said that to Magga and Masnia they both answered "Of course they do!" Both of them loved me and insisted that they would be miserable if I left them. Rather than being jealous they were sympathetic with poor Maliima and understood why she had fallen in love with me. But they didn't really want another wife in the mix; it would just be too many. Which was also how I felt about it.

Another thing costing time, those two lovers of mine had been bragging about my myøsik so folk were interested. I had deliberately left my guitar back in the bus because our time at this kha-rat was too short to get sidetracked by a minstrel show, but it was obvious I couldn't get out of it. So I sang three songs in Nokhontli a cappella. Most Nokhons have heard snippets of music from NokhSos passing through the woods, either singing around a campfire or from a radio in a car driving past, but none of those squatches had ever experienced a song in their own language before. It's always an eye... oops, I mean ear-opener.

And just as I was trying to get out of there a bunch of young squatches came to me and asked me to take them with us to civilization. Dasharret, my life-saving buddy, said that he had known about The Negotiator's message from previous visions and had long ago decided to break free of the strict life under old-school leaders like Dazar-haket. He said there were others like him, but they had all been afraid to go out on their own. It turns out there were four males and two females wanting to follow us out of the wilderness.

I felt like an idiot: completely unprepared for this, trying to sandwich such an important event in the middle of our USA concert tour, when there just wasn't time to deal with such a complication. This was exactly why we had come here-- to expand the reach of the NNP --but we were completely surprised by our success. Where could we take them? What could we do for them? The NNP had no set-up this far away from Monroe, Washington, not to mention that we were not even in the USA, where we had achieved certain advantages after months of legal argumentation. This was ground less-than-zero.

But Masnia, that wise little bitch, said just the right thing: "Follow your vision, Da-adam-ee, you can't go wrong." So I shrugged and said, "Okay, anyone interested follow us, but we're in a hurry. I know, a time-schedule is something Nokhons just don't understand; but think of it as beginning your acclimation to the world out there. Let's go!" And off we went.

One of the females was Maliima, of course. She said she wasn't the only Sha-haka-ma in the mlønoli so she felt free to be Sha-haka-ma for the five others who had chosen to follow us. I had no problem with that, she was a very positive person and might just fit right into the society I was hoping to create. The other female was younger and a little unsure of herself, a little more afraid of the unknown, but willing to take a chance.

All the males were gung-ho right from the start, strong vigorous young squatches who had been so weary of Dazar-haket's rules and thankless demands, they were ready to be free at last. Dasharret was so enthusiastic it was comical. The other three guys were more nervous, but glad to be on an adventure.

Of course, I had to go spoil it all by informing them of what was waiting for them out in the white man's world, leading them forward at a brisk pace and explaining fast as we went.

"Your first real challenge will be overcoming your fear or disgust for skesk, I know, that's hard after having been indoctrinated against NokhSo technology all your life, but it's unavoidable where you're going. Your first contact with it will be our bus. It's a rolling skesk-bakhl, a transportation-house-machine. It will take us to our destination, a NokhSo Et-bakhli (town) called Cobalt, where we will try to get you established and introduced to the world beyond this wilderness."

It took us about eight hours to trek back to the bus, which was quicker than the twelve hours on our way out because our traveling companions were familiar with the territory. We described the semi-mountain with the sheer cliff face and they took us right to it in a straight line. We had to swim across about 50 little lakes and spring over some small mountaintops, but that was no sweat for squatches, male or female.

So we made good time despite that there was still enough shyøma energy going on to slow us down for onslaughts of raw sex every now and then, but it was mostly quickies, which was kind of fun. We were five males and four females, so we all became good friends. I was glad to see that Maliima and Dasharret were becoming pretty fond of each other; I sure didn't want to be breaking her heart. But I was also enjoying her while we were together. Fair enough, she was getting along fine with Masnia and Magga on that trek.

During that time I tried to mention everything they needed to know, aware that it was impossible to prepare them for the changes they would now experience; explaining first of all that they had to drop the squatch stink. I should tell them about food and money, about learning English, about some laws they needed to be aware of... Holy shit, I'd have to stay and teach them for a month! But I couldn't just leave my band in the lurch; we were committed to meet in Montreal within two days. I knew we couldn't take all these squatches with us for the rest of the concert tour, there just wasn't room in the bus for nine of us and five humans. And they'd all flip out anyway, being cooped up inside a tour bus, city after city, for the next two months.


Their first real test of resolve came when we arrived at the bus. We had hidden it deep in foliage, so we had to unpack it, revealing the bus in bits and pieces. The shiny metal, the glass, the unnatural colors, metallic blue, candy-apple red trim, forbidden stuff. They'd been nervous enough about coming in physical contact with skesk well before they'd even seen the bus, but as it gradually became revealed they became more and more shocked by the sheer SIZE of it. Finally they could see our traveling mountain of skesk in its entirety. They were horrified, of course. I know some of them thought: "What an affront to the Atli!"

I had already told them that we would be getting INSIDE the bus and go traveling at what they would consider VERY HIGH SPEED to the town of Cobalt. All of that had just been theoretical for them until I opened the side door and said, "Okay folks, hop in."

It took most of an hour to actually get them into the bus. One young male decided to go back home until Dasharret talked him into hanging in there. The young female was actually the first of them to have the nerve to get on the bus, probably because Magga and Masnia were coaxing her from inside the bus and they didn't seem to be consumed by the fires of Hell.

The next obstacle was moving a bus full of terrified technophobes. I had Masnia drive so that I could deal with hysterical squatches. We'd been through all this with other newcomers to the NNP, so we knew the routine. They all screamed when the motor started, each convinced that the growling bus was going to eat them up. Then Masnia had to slo-o-o-owly engage the gear and set the bus in motion, ignoring the cries and tears.

We built up speed as the logging trails became country roads, gliding smoothly along past a zillion trees, faster and faster (20 mph, 40 mph, wow!) until the crowd of squatches began to understood just how cool this was and were sticking their heads and hands out the windows to feel the wind of our passage and the thrill of speed (50 mph, OMG), until they were cheering us on to go faster!

Once we were rolling nicely I took the time to check my cell phone and saw that Melly had tried to call many times. I rang back to her but she didn't pick up so I let it wait until later. I rang to Art, who did answer, so I could report to him that we were back from our expedition into the wilderness of Ontario and explain our complication with six extra squatches we had to do something about real soon.

It was about 8:30 Thursday evening when I called Art, which made it only 5:30 pm over in the Pacific Time Zone, so Art could still catch Doug over at the NNP legal office in Monroe and see if they could make some kind of arrangement in Cobalt. Maybe they could set up a new affiliate of the Nokhon Nation Project by phone. I mentioned that it must be too late today, Cobalt was a small, sleepy little town and the sidewalks had probably already rolled up for the night. Art said he'd try anyway and ring back.

Our Nokhon guests were having constant epiphanies: we were beginning to meet other traffic on the road, cars, pickups, logging trucks, the usual. Most of them had seen motor vehicles before, but at a safe distance, not keeping pace beside them at highway speeds.

They could also see into the other vehicles, at drivers and passengers, see what they were doing or eating, but no one could see us through our tinted windows, which was fascinating for them. Sometimes other vehicles seemed to be coming directly at us, inspiring terror.

When I called Art they asked why I was speaking to the little rock in my hand. For them it was as if they had just come aboard the Starship Enterprise streaking through an asteroid belt.

For the moment the new folk were entertained by their new experiences, so I didn't have to fuss with them. They seemed to be the kind of squatches who can adapt to civilization. And of course, the shyøma had not yet completely dissipated, so they could still entertain themselves with rotating sex partners. I did fuss a bit, just to be polite.

(cell phone rings)

ADAM: Hi, Adam here.

RB: Yeah, hi Adam, this is Robert Burns. You remember me?

ADAM: Uh... oh yeah, the guy I talked with at the diner in Cobalt? About spending a day with two Sasquatches when you were 16 years old?

RB: Yeah, that's me.

ADAM: What a coincidence: I'm on my way to Cobalt now. Say, how did you get my number?

RB: Because it's not really a coincidence, I've just spoken with Doug Wielson of the Nokhon Nation Project in Monroe, Washington. He asked me to call you.

ADAM: Okay, but why did Doug call YOU? I mean, that's pretty weird, out of everybody in Ontario he calls some random guy I just met about 4 days ago...

RB: Oh, well he called me because I just happen to be a lawyer with a small legal firm here in Cobalt. He asked me if I knew who Adam Leroy Forest was and I said, yeah, I'd just MET you-- okay, I guess that IS a coincidence --so we got to talking about Bigfoot stuff, I told him about my experience, next thing I knew he offered me a job with the NNP, asking me to make arrangements for some "Nokhontli" you're bringing in to town right now.

ADAM: Okay, you were right: this is not coincidence, this is Destiny!

We arranged to meet tomorrow at the Sunset Diner.


5:00 pm, Thursday

We got back into Cobalt about 3:00 in the morning. Drove past the Sunset Diner, where we had eaten breakfast four days ago. It was closed for the night, so we drove on past. I thought we'd find a place to sleep the rest of the night, but our new friends were too excited about being in a Real Live Big City for the first time in their lives, so we parked in the middle of town and went exploring. It was perfect, there was no one else wandering the streets at that time, so there was no panic about the nine Sasquatches running loose.

Cobalt, Ontario is a sleepy little berg about half the size of Monroe, population little over a thousand, but this is the acme of civilization compared to where we had just come from. Our Nokhon friends were impressed by the neat patterns of streets and houses, the height of the water tower, we passed the St Patrick's Private School, the Community Center, the Canadian Legion, the cozy little Downtown Variety Store, the even more teensy-weensy barber shop.

I couldn't help thinking: oh what a boring little town, should I really drop these guys off here? Then I remembered that Monroe could also be considered boring, unless you knew the people who lived there. If these people would welcome the squatches it could be fun for everyone. A small town was best.

Our shyøma was finally beginning to dissipate by then, so there was no great danger of the smell waking people up and causing a population explosion in nine months. Although there were still some spontaneous quickies going on every once in a while among our group of friends. I was hopeful all of that would be over with by morning, when we might be introducing the Nokhon Nation to the people of Cobalt.

Robert Burns met us in the Sunset Diner at 8:00 am, as planned. He had, in fact, arranged a formal meeting of our Nokhon newcomers with a rather large crowd of interested Canadians. Luckily (or was it Fate?) the shyøma-flow had ended for this month and we didn't have to hide any of the females away. We had also prepared for this meeting by all of us bathing in one of the little lakes to wash away every vestige of pheromone. No sexy smell today, please.

The Canadians all seemed to be open to welcoming Nokhons in their community. Some of them were indigenous Indians and they seemed quite pleased about it all. Maybe there was a racist hiding in the crowd but he or she wasn't complaining or making demands. Are Canadians in general really just plain NICER than Americans? Many of them had also come with home-made goodies, cookies, pies, fruits, which they offered to the newcomers.

It was good that Masnia could speak for the females, impressing the local people with just how well a Nokhon could learn English, because none of our new folk could speak anything but Nokhontli at the moment. Magga spoke too, and although her command of English isn't at Masnia's level, she could still communicate and was more like what they could expect from these new Nokhons. Masnia is kinda freaky, just like me.

The squatches had been nervous about how a meeting with the dreaded NokhSos would go, so they were relieved and became even comfortable with this adventure they had set upon.

Robert Burns, the lawyer not the poet, had already set up a safe-house for the Nokhons, leased to the NNP and administrated by himself. It was just outside of town, actually in a forest, an abandoned farm with a large open yard that had once been a vegetable garden. The house was old and needed painting, but reasonably intact. A couple of windows needed replacing, which he had already ordered from a local carpenter. He was aware that squatches don't live in houses but assumed they could use it as a gathering spot out of the weather, which in winter might even appeal to them.

"I don't yet know that much about what they need, but I've seen that the NNP offers pertinent information on their web site. I'm really glad to get this job-- I've always been a Bigfoot fan --and I plan to do my best to make a success of this new outpost." I believed him; you know how I can hear the truth being spoken. I could tell he was a good guy and perfect for this. Like I said, Fate!

I had a supply of our language school DVDs in the bus, so I gave him a couple of sets, also showing him where he could download all the materiel the Hacienda had produced. Pokey and Art had made a set of videos for speakers of Nokhontli to learn English, as Dambaraggan had done the same for learning Nokhontli, all available online, even all the way out here to the edge of the Canadian wilderness.

Robert said he knew an unemployed school teacher who would be perfect for this project. In fact, I could meet him; he was in the Sunset Diner right now. So we went back in and sure enough, after a short interview I hired him as an NNP teacher. We could hire more people later, but for now we had a school.

We had been in a hurry, but everything was working out at such a crazy pace that we ended up with an extra day. Montreal was 433 miles away, which we should be able to drive in about seven-eight hours. We were having too much fun to leave early so we decided to spend the evening in Cobalt and leave early next morning, should make it to Montreal by 4:00 pm Saturday June 7, with 4 hours to spare before the concert.

And speaking of the concert, I hadn't played my guitar in a week, I should probably practice. So I offered to do a free concert in the Sunset Diner that evening. Solo, but with my dancing backup girls, should be fun.







Chapter 68

Adam Into Babylon