Proctor Who? Part One

Toolbox

Who is the Proctor?

A question central to the latest Evil UnLtd volume.

The Proctor is a conundrum wrapped in an enema and – wait, either we’re getting déjà vu or we’re caught in a chronic hysteresis. We’ve been through all that before.

Today, we’ll be profiling one of the individuals who lays claim to the title of Proctor, although not necessarily in that order.

The First(?) Proctor

Proctor01

 

Exclusive Time/Space Snippet:

The earth moved. Not in a sexual way. More in the way you’d expect when two worlds bumped into one another. Actual planetary collisions were probably rare and Zennor Doone suspected there was a simpler explanation behind the seismic seizure.

“Proctor! What did you do?!”

The ground had another go at throwing her on her ass.

The Proctor squatted by the small hole he’d cut in the machinery that all but filled the chamber. His Elven features reddened and sweat glossed his bald head. Heatwaves crashed in through the cavernous entrance as if someone had left a huge oven open.

“Nothing much.” He sprang to his feet and waggled his Tool. “I reversed the polar conditions and the nutrient flow.”

Ice ran briefly to water from pipes the size of tower blocks before hissing away in fits of steam. Something like an apocalyptic convoy of trucks rumbled through on its way to the planet’s core.

“That’s bad, right?”

“Nonsense! Those are happy sounds! The planet’s thermovascular system coming back to life.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means… we should run!”

Zennor ran. Had it been an officially officiated race she would’ve been disqualified for dashing off two tenths of a second ahead of the bang. He frequently fired off that prompt like a starter gun and she’d gotten used to anticipating. And pre-empting.

She raced out onto the causeway with a good head-start.

She’d been in the habit of jogging most mornings around Dartmoor City Park, but that was nothing to the amount of running she’d done in space. Served her right, she guessed, for agreeing to travel the universe with this crazed loon. At least the exercise was a good way of working off the threat of DVT between trips in that ultra-cramped box he called transport.

“Why’d you park so bloody far away?!”

She ran on a jigsaw. Interlocking float discs wobbled underfoot, losing their interlockedness. The causeway started breaking up, piece by piece.

That is an excellent question!”

“And?”

She glanced back. Big mistake. There was the convoy: a tsunami of burning treacle. Lava rolled and thundered after the Proctor, devouring the trembling causeway. Walls fissured, feeding fiery tributaries into the main wave.

“A question far too excellent to be answered glibly while on the run!”

Translation: he didn’t know.

Worse news: sturdy vault doors swung open, all along the tunnel walls. More and more of them, further ahead. Black bulks stirred within. Slits lit up, bloody razor slashes in the black.

They were waking up.

“Proctor! Evil Robots!”

EvilFork

 

Watch this space for further profiles of this compelling character.

Alternatively, read Evil UnLtd Vol 4: Tempus Sinister.

Royalties from all books in the Evil UnLtd series go to Cancer Research UK.

SAF 2015

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