Constance et al arrived, breathless, but in good heart, at the fortified gates to the city of Az, dressed in their finest to the nines. They must wait for an audio check with the Doctor of Az near a curtain. Uncomfortable chairs, a textured white wall with no children’s drawings and coffee machine with tiny paper cups, or just water!
Sheba, the Az Doctor, was busy distilling the essences of Joy which the various Knights had discovered. The Open Road, the Sunbed and precious Coffer of Truths, percolated into soluble granule form. Sheba wore a white coat and a yellow ribbon with a houli houli skirt, her hair was under orders.
They must wait in the long waiting room until. A representative of the distillery, a guide, a tell you what, in fine costume, all hello and thank you very much, suggested that they take a guided missile of the plant whilst they wait, and so they did.
The tour, starting at 2.30, groups of ten, do you need a translator or a brochure?
In two vasty copper vats, curved all across the sides in an onion shape, larger even than the ones they use to make the Scottish spirit, it brewed. Sheba threw the ingredients by the bushel, basket, and bassinet or other containers beginning with B.
There were many factors to consider, the Joy of the Open Road had the taste of tarmac, whereas the Sunworshippers essence tasted of suncream, taste being most important. Sheba took a wheelbarrow of botanical gardens and sprinkled them over the surface through a small metal pothole, with rivets around, taken from an ancient film about going to the moon.
She tinkered with the pressure gauges and wiped condensed beads from the tubes with a soft cloth, which she kept in her back pocket. If the gauges pointed to numbers with a red background, needs must spin a few wheel valves and look concerned, furrowed brow. Tapping things with a spanner and kicking the tyres helped. Occasionally she dipped in a long wire with a glass test tube on the end, and, drawing it out, inspected the contents close to her eyeballs.
When the guided tour rabble were leaning over the metal balustrade, feet upon the diamond pattern industrial walkway, not listening, but waiting for free stuff to be given, she showed them all the vats and tubes, valves and holding tanks available. Can you smell this or that? Isn’t it beguiling?
Using the oar from a small dinghy, she stirred, trying to make the botanicals sink down in the liquids, which took some effort and required regular exercises of the apple core muscles.
When the fires were lit, a ring of bright water, the steamy liquid raced lightly up the spiralling distillation pipes and then fell as fractions into a calculator as tradition would dictate. Forming, drip by drip, directly into bottles standing in a row, upon a donkey driven belt, which stopped under the dripping spout for exactly the right amount of time, then dashed forwards between a full bottle and the next empty, so as not to spill a single. The use of a series of clever cogs, water clocks, chains and whirling governors, allowed the donkey to keep walking steadily and without discomfit.
The donkey’s name was Wilbur and he was content. He once had a starring role in a pirate film.
Then a mechanical hand came down holding a special bottle top and stuffed the corklet screw cap in, on, the bottle neck by the traffic lights.
Two lines of bottles came forthwards off the conveyor, jostling for position in the resting area. To each line of bottles a label attached, pre licked to summon the adhesive properties. The Silicon man, cradling a bottle of the best, asked the why question.
Aha, cried Sheba, I am glad you asked, as that is the very nub and hub and centre of our endeavour.
On the left, and here she indicated a line of ten green bottles hanging on the wall, wobbling off towards the packing facility, we have distilled Joy for those who prefer their glass half full. To these a pleasant green coloured label.
And here on the right, the lower fraction, here she indicated a line of bottles clinking off to the other part of the packing facility, we have distilled the leftovers, for those who consider themselves a connoisseur of the glass half empty. The separation of these liquors is ticklish and requires a great deal. The secret has been lost and found at the station many times. To these a warning label with cross and skull bones to indicate. Neither beverage contains the drug alcohol.
The crowd let a sigh of letdown escape towards the roof and some drifted away looking disappointed, hoping that they could pocket some colourful merchandising.
There are of course many differences between distilled Joy and the popular drink that they call Alcohol, Dr Sheba continued, Alcohol has the effect of making people confident, sociable and upbeat, then wobbly, sad, angry and eventually anxious and depressed, with occasional episodes of aggression. Our product, on the other hand, is a refreshing drink and offers a pleasant experience whilst considering the best parts of your life and congregating in stylish bars before sleeping the night through.
Now that the smoking of tobacco has been outlaws due to excess deaths, the elders of Az are considering a super high tariff on alcohol, with a view to funding the National Happiness Service.
Why then the two brands, asks the Foolish Bird, as she sipped on a cool complementary glass half full, with a nose of dandelion and a hint of artichoke.
Well said Sheba, the glass half full, named on the bottle label as Azimuth, you have found, tastes sweet and refreshing. Whereas the glass half empty, named Azoth, tastes of delicious soapy water and tar with no Joy essence in it at all. We advise that you don’t even sample it. It is a product of alchemy used in. But be of a warning there is no mercury within, you will not find it there. It is a potent brew often favoured by the mystic tradition when cleaning the silver or loosening a rusted bolt.
It is much sought by kings of orient and wise women, though few can afford.
What is regarded as full payment for a bottle of pure Azoth?
Only a king’s ransom would suffice, I suppose, but it requires payment of a single soul or two half souls or four quarter souls, per bottle. We do plow the profits back into the infrastructure of the city, which puts money in pockets and reduces the tax burden. At the word ‘Burden’, Wilbur, who had been walking in his sleep, pricked up his ears.
The Guardians of the Cave 