Tapping the Golden Conger

By John Shoebridge

The year is 1970 and Hestia ventures to scour the future a little way beyond the millennium.

Being the Greek goddess of Homelife, she considers the people of the world as one big family and from what she foresees, it is not a happy one at all; the world is in turmoil.

Fear of war, terror and crime, along with the desperation over poverty, sickness and homelessness, seems to be evident wherever she scanned the globe. Dejected and rather desperate to address the global unrest, she covertly disobeys her elders by sowing a few celestial seeds in the form of a dream to Fizziwiz, and earthly accomplice in a previous rescue mission.

Prompted by the dream, Fizziwiz recalls seeing a document detailing the existence of a vast wealth of coinage lying beneath the seabed along the coastlines of the world and accumulating over centuries through nature's tidal forces.

Uncanny connections, inspired solutions and feats of epic engineering excellence, brings an impossible venture close to near touching distance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Shoebridge
• Release date: May 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370481293

Book preview

HESTIA’S QUEST

Each god was allowed but one task and one task only whenever celestial intervention was considered necessary by the elders. Perhaps it was to discourage meddling by use of their special powers but whatever the reason that remained the unquestionable law never to be broken and Hestia had used her allotted task. Having played her part in saving the Cobs ancient internet system adopted by the gods, Hestia had performed her assignment well although she dearly wished her task could have been served for something more important to her.

As a Greek goddess of all homelife, Hestia had searched the future to witness other events that had both concerned and saddened her a great deal more. She saw people of the world as a great big family and the further she scanned into the future, the least she liked it. Her family was not a happy one at all!!

Nations seemed to enjoy conflict often resulting in terrible wars. The people of the same country even fought between themselves either through religion, status in life and unbelievably to her, even the colour of the skin. Massed migration from beloved, though troubled, homelands appeared depressingly prevalent.

It seemed that the inequality of wealth was one of the root causes of most unrest, not always through resentment by the folk poorer off, although it appeared that the divide between the masses suffering constant poverty and the opulent few who accumulated and worshipped their vast fortunes, grew wider by the day.

As time went by, Hestia dearly wished that somehow using her celestial powers she could gradually address the balance of wealth and power over a long period of time so eventually the people of the world could abide in perfect harmony. Realistically though, she understood only too well that any hint of wishing to get involved would be dismissed out of hand for many reasons. The gods of war for one would never agree to her ever embarking on such a task. The higher council of gods too would never allow or even consider sanctioning a second intervention of any kind. With reluctance, Hestia therefore resigned herself to the fact that the deterioration of peace on earth was inevitable.

It was on one of Hestia’s lazy days as she relaxed on one of the patio benches high amongst the great fluffy white clouds that a thought came to her from nowhere and as quickly as it had come to her so it had been dismissed from her mind. Something she must not dwell on as it would be upsetting.

To cheer herself up when feeling a little low, she usually resorted to reminiscing over happier times, seeking to recall some of the more unusual and interesting memories in particular.

Of late however, she had noticed how her thoughts of the past kept returning to the singular events resulting from a test set long ago for her daughter Pottica. Maybe it had been the satisfaction she had felt at the time with Pottica not only surviving a terrible ordeal at sea but also learning the important values of friendship and appreciation at the same time.

Saved from drowning by clinging to an old earthenware wine vessel in those dark lonely waters for many days, she considered the many tales it could tell if able to do so. This in mind, but more as a gesture of her gratitude, she decided to place an enchantment on her rescuer bringing him to life. With a wink of her eye, the old wine vessel took on a human appearance, surprising Pottica somewhat at the transformation she had achieved until composing herself to suggest in fun, that he may wished to be called Vinny, a name he joyfully accepted. For many days, before being picked up by a passing fishing boat, the pair had exchanged endless stories both strange and exciting from past experiences and so formed a lasting bond between themselves. On parting, the Goddess thanked Vinny once more and though feeling sad, promised always to be by his side in spirit.

During this short time together, Pottica realised with some regret, that in the past she had shown no respect towards containers, looking on them with relish and much appreciation when holding their contents but on becoming empty, the particular containers would merely end up discarded quite unceremoniously as rubbish.

Potticca, being true to her word, had kept regular checks of Vinny’s welfare and on one occasion noted with interest and some pleasure, how a friendship had formed between him and a bottle of Elixir by the name of Fizziwiz, whose master was no other than Merlin, the master magician.

Hestia would always be grateful to her daughter for introducing her to the exploits of Fizziwiz. How, after those special days serving Merlin, he had passed through the hands of other illustrious men of magic. It was the aura that seemed to go with him as Poticca had explained, that even some of his masters appeared at times to be in awe of his deeds and the excellent service given to them. Without this introduction, Hestia considered the Web would never have been saved.

This noted, Hestia too had taken a decided interest in the movements and indeed the adventures of Fizziwiz to find so much entertainment and even astonishment of what he got up to or witnessed in his travels over the ensuing centuries. So when the situation with the cobs internet system occurred she knew immediately who should become involved.

The web had been saved and that was that, her involvement over. The gods nevertheless had voiced their hopes that the dumplings and cobs would remain close friends and in close contact with each other should a repeat problem occur with the beloved web site. Hestia had noticed over the last few years how the odd guarded enquiries as to their whereabouts by one or two of the elders had crept into their conversations and quite naughtily she considered it an unofficial assignment of sorts to provide a loophole in their strict one assignment only rule.

Just lately though, other things had preoccupied her and reluctantly she has lost track of their location but hopefully the privilege of residing close by to each other on the edge of the spectacular Daleshire Peak District had kept them together.

If this was the case and she had been offered the chance to improve the ways of the world the dumplings and cobs would surely have been involved in one way or another. Trying to think of other things became difficult as her thoughts persistently returned to Fizziwiz and just how he had achieved a near impossible task without even having the slightest inclination of the job he was destined for.

Maybe just maybe he had also considered just how much unrest there was in the world. With so many of the Dumplings originating from different continents, they would surely have had discussions about the problems and the causes of such troubles especially as Hobnob would be bombarding them with the daily bulletins of world affairs coming in on the Master Web.

Even so, should they ever contemplate offering assistance to the global problems as they had done so admirably helped isolated incidents in the past, a solution to put the world to rights would surely be a step far too far.

Perhaps a sneaky sign of sorts sent to Fizziwiz may help a little but was it at a great risk of being discovered by her elders that she was prepared to take?

FIZZIWIZ HAS A DREAM

During the leisure hours spent every evening in the recreation kiln, during the chillweave, Fizziwiz usually joined the others in all types of games or even the quizzes organised by Polly, their highly respected housekeeper. During her days as housekeeper to the gentry she had access to vast libraries of books covering any subject that she wished to research. With her insatiable need to learn and being blessed with a photogenic memory, Polly was simply a mine of information and could set up a quiz of 20 or so questions in a matter of minutes.

The games were usually played in a very competitive fashion and Fizziwiz often amused himself at the bad losers often cursing their sheer ill fortune and moaning at just how jammy the winner had been.

In quiet corners heated discussions took place where the world would be put to right by some whilst others voiced their total disagreement. On one particular night when the games were over and most of the clan had retired to bed, Fizziwiz sat quietly near a few of his friends who had been despairing at some of the ways in which countries were being run and how it generally affected ordinary folk.

Poverty was high on the agenda and so was the senseless wars the people were forced to engage in against other nations who they had no quarrel with but only their leaders had some political or financial gain to make. Reflecting on the discussion he had overheard, the Magic Potion bottle realised just how very poor the majority of people in most countries were, due to the cost of wars and the sheer greed of a privileged few. It was no wonder that so much unrest and even terrorism existed in the world. Sadly the balance could never be made equal.

On these thoughts of happenings abroad, Fizziwiz cast his mind back to the days spent assisting Hoblin, probably one of the most brilliant sorcerers of his time. Although severely crippled from birth, Hoblin had travelled the world in search of new methods of magic and to obtain as many potions and elixirs he could add to his vast collection.

Being of a generous nature Hoblin had quite often shared some of his methods with other men and women of magic, who in turn would redeem a favour by disclosing their own secrets in the strictest of confidence of course.

Fizziwiz lay snugly in his bunk totally relaxed after a goods night sleep. Recalling the topics discussed the evening before, he suddenly recalled a strange dream from which he had just awoken. On a rough wooden bench placed by the waters edge on a beautiful beach sat a very old man. He had been a mariner by the look of his clothes and as his wizened weather beaten features suggested. Approaching him along the seashore for a far as the eye could see there came queues of people; all ages all sizes and all different nationalities according to their attire. Looking the other way and far into the distance went people who had already passed him by.

As each person reached the bench the old man thrust a large pewter mug through the waves lapping at his feet, to scoop out what appeared to be a mug brimming with shiny gold coins. He then poured the coins into containers which each person held before him. All types of containers were carried by the people almost as if they knew what they were about to receive. There was no urgency, no one pushing into the queue just a patient steady flow forward and then gratefully departing in the same disciplined manner. No one approached the line of people to beg steal or borrow from them. Not one single person was concerned that some may have received more than the other. Everyone appeared totally satisfied and thankful at their good fortune. The gold would provide food clothing medicine and security for themselves and their families forever.

Rising for breakfast, Fizziwiz dismissed the dream merely as a result of his discussions in the recreation kiln the evening before when sympathising over the plight of the poor across the world. Mrs Sweetcorn had excelled herself this morning treating everyone to the bacon muffins which she never did to order but only when she felt like it. Between the first serving and clearing away the pots and empty mugs after the last diner had finished she had noticed how Hobnob had popped into the dining kiln not once but at least two times.

The first time he had called Copacabana, the beach boy, over to Mission Control before relaying the news just in from one of the Brazilian Cob Kingdoms. A great rainstorm throughout the Paraguay delta had caused great floods in the area swamping the lands of the poor farmers and Indian settlements alike throughout that part of the rain forests. Claudio Silva, the king cob, had also told with some sadness the tragedies suffered by the native Indians. The settlements once boasted a population of five million, had now dwindled to less than a fifth of the amount as outsiders and developers had invaded their lands. With the intruders came new diseases to which the native Indians were not immune, leaving thousands dying as a result. The poor Indians living simple lives obtained and indeed expected no medical help from the rich developers who in truth simply wanted rid of them in greed of their land.

On another visit, Hobnob gave Sullivan the news that an African tribe had been attacked by neighbouring rebels with every hut in each village burnt to the ground. Unlike the rainstorm in Brazil, the tribe were only beginning to recover from a year long drought that had simply devastated their crops. No corn would be available to sow for the following years. They had no money and now their homes needed rebuilding.

Avoiding the few drenched clumps of grass encroaching, the shale path that reached far into the dump, Fizziwiz strolled in thought with Potty by his side. The magic potion bottle had decided earlier that morning to give some thought to the worldwide unrest that appeared to be increasing day by day. Unlike the missions they had undertook to help avoid local tragedies in different parts of the world the national problems that kept coming to his notice seemed out of control. Certainly issues too big for the cobs and the Flying Dumplings to assist with.

During their long evening discussions in the Recreation Kiln, Fizziwiz had considered many theories of the changing values of the people across the world. The members most academically educated would talk long and hard, giving their opinions but with all due respect to them it seemed that somewhere in the facts and reasons put forward a simple bit of common sense was missing.

Resting for a while on a mossy log, Fizziwiz invited Potty to share his thoughts of the events reported in that morning. It’s not just this morning, exclaimed the potted beef jar, there’s so many other bad events that have been recorded while I have sat with Hobnob in mission control. "Gang fights and criminal activities in most large cities, hatred through different beliefs and cultures throughout Europe and the East. People being made to work for very little wages by gangs that seem to control many countries. The bad news seems never ending.

From what I hear, continued Potty It all comes down to money. That though is not all. Hobnob recently recorded a report in that someone has come up with the idea of setting tests on the poor to see from peoples circumstances if they can manage with even less money than they already have to live on. I am not very clever as everyone knows and I have passed no exams or have no qualifications but my simple answer would be a similar test for very wealthy folk. A needs tests perhaps. Surely the sharing of but a tiny bit of the world’s surplus wealth, not enough to affect anyone’s rich lifestyles, would certainly be enough to make a vast difference to the greater community as would be the case all over the world. It would also put a bigger smile on people’s faces with a little more in their pocket. Surely a better lifestyle would leave the poorer off with fewer grievances and slowly ease the troubles of the world.

Fizziwiz burst into laughter, how right he was, so simple but so perfectly right.

He had sat in silence throughout Potty’s simple but honest account of how he saw things. His dear friend had merely echoed exactly the reasons he had put forward when discussing the worlds problems with Chan, Vladimir and Sulliman. They had laid out their practical and financial reasons of why things would never change without