Stan Devlin in the 22nd Century

The following takes place following: The Great Displacement

The Master awakens from his most recent fugue state to find himself in a dusty storage room. He notices a strange, musty scent—he smells a bit… mature. After a few moments, he realises that this was his office, only now it’s filled with boxes and outdated equipment. Everything is covered in thick, ancient dust.

Confused, he steps outside.

He’s startled to find the main office floor filled with South Asians and Africans, sitting in segregated groups. Most of them aren’t doing anything. A few are fumbling with strange, unfamiliar computer systems—holographic projections flickering weakly from the consoles. The interior design has also changed: it’s cold, sterile, and corporate… yet somehow incredibly dirty. Trash litters the floor. Bins are overflowing.

He makes his way toward the editor’s office. Suddenly, he steps in something squishy. He looks down. Human pooh. Right there on the floor.

He winces. Nearby, a woman in a niqab is cradling a dead goose.

He passes the receptionist’s desk. It’s not Ermintrude.

Instead, a black woman with massive hair and illegible tattoos lounges behind the counter. She’s wearing a visor and a pair of oversized headphones, jacked into a terminal of some kind.

Master Devlin: “Um… Hello?”

She doesn’t respond. As he starts to walk past, she suddenly starts speaking in some kind of rapid-fire gibberish—almost English, but not quite. He soon realises she’s not even talking to him. Shaking his head, he enters Travers’ office.

Travers is being serviced by a couple of middle-aged Bangladeshi women.

Travers: “Ah! Master Devlin! As I live and breathe! You’ve finally returned to us, as the prophecy foretold! It’s been quite some time, as you no doubt will have noticed.”

Travers excuses the women. They leave quietly.

Through the gaps in the Venetian blinds, the Master catches a glimpse of the town outside. The sky is thick with smog. Buildings look run-down and crumbling, some propped up with scaffolding, others bearing glowing neon signs. In the distance, the citadel still stands, sleek and futuristic as ever—except now a large stylised MC logo is emblazoned across its side: MASTER CORP.

Devlin surveys Travers’ office. It’s filthy. Papers everywhere. Trash piled up. Where once hung the imperial portrait of Her Majesty Mayuri von Walverschmidt and Wilfred the Duck, there now hangs a large, stern image of a severe-looking African man in tribal dress.

Master Devlin: “Who the hell is that?”

Travers: “Ah, yes… That’s our, um, current Emperor. Kaiser N’Jadaka Badejo—Waldonga’s thirty-fourth emperor. They tend to change pretty quickly around here. Most come to a sudden and violent end. Though this one’s managed to stay in power for fifteen years, which is… not bad.”

Master Devlin: “Waldonga?”

Travers winces.

Travers: “Yes… uh, things have changed somewhat while you were away.”

Master Devlin: “How long have I been out?”

Travers: “Eighty-one years.”

The Master sits down in utter shock.

He picks up a framed photo on Travers’ desk. It’s a wedding photo of Travers and Dr. Shawn.

Travers: “That was taken about a year after you went to sleep. She delayed the wedding for months, hoping you’d wake up. Didn’t want you to miss it. Ed rest her soul. It’s been nearly twenty-five years now since she passed… Ninety-four, she got to.”

Master Devlin: “I see…”

Travers: “I stuck with her till the end, you know.”

He takes the frame gently back.

Travers: “Believe it or not, we were happy. This is all I have left of her now.”

Master Devlin: “What about Ermintrude? Mayuri? Wesley? Are they dead too?”

Travers: “Ermintrude and Goblin Slayer went back to their realm about fifty years ago. I expect they must be long gone by now.”

Master Devlin: “And Mayuri? Wesley?”

Travers goes quiet. He looks haunted.

Travers: “There was a hostile takeover of the Masters Council a few years after you left. The Goldensteins used an army of Australopithecus to purge them. I’m afraid Mayuri, Wesley, and their four children were all executed by Goldenstein revolutionaries.”

The Master is devastated. His normally stoic expression cracks as he mourns the friends he’s lost—the world stolen from him by these damned fugue states.

Master Devlin: “What about Waldo?”

Travers: “He disappeared not long after you fugued. Probably still around somewhere…”

Suddenly, a live emergency broadcast flashes onto the office TV screen.

LIVE: Emergency Announcement from the Head of the Masters Council, Bolaji Obanda.

An Australopithecus steps up and speaks.

Master Obanda: “My fellow Waldoganz… as you know, these are difficult times. De famine. De buildings collapses. So much chaos and violence… and why? Why dis happen, when we ‘ave so much? Look around at what we have taken for our own… but it is not working.

Dis town—she fallin’ apart, seen? And it all because of de white people abandoning us…”

Travers grimaces and turns the TV off.

Master Devlin: “How have you managed to stick around?”

Travers: “Travers has a knack for appearing unthreatening, I guess. Besides, I’m just one goblin.”

Master Devlin: “What happened to this place? It’s… so different. So backwards.”

Travers: “About seventy-five years ago, they knocked down the Great Wall. All the ‘New Brits’ flooded in. Some white people saw the coming race wars and fled north. Those that stayed became a persecuted minority.”

He pauses grimly.

Travers: “The new Masters Council keeps them in Widdlington Zoo now. Maybe two hundred left, they reckon…”

Master Devlin: “Good God…”

Travers: “Some are occasionally executed live on TV when the government needs a distraction. Which is often. We have tribal factions at war with each other constantly.”

Master Devlin: “What happened to me during all this?”

Travers: “Nothing. You just slept in your office. We shut the door during the Troubles. Eventually, we started using it for storage.”

Master Devlin: “The Goldensteins didn’t look for me?”

Travers: “They asked about you a couple of times, but honestly, they didn’t try that hard. The Australopithecus turned on them eventually too. Publicly ate Goldenstein and his family as part of a tribal ritual.”

Master Devlin: "I see."

The Master looks around at the women in the office.

Master Devlin: "I must say, Travers... not your usual cuisine."

Travers: "No... my usual cuisine is largely extinct. This is all I can get."

Master Devlin: "So what do you do now?"

Travers: "Nothing, really... There's nothing to do. I hate it here."

Master Devlin: "Why don’t you move somewhere else?"

Travers: "That’s what everyone else did. Then hordes followed them there too. Pretty sure they ran out of places to run to..."

Master Devlin: "What about Scotland?"

Travers: "It's all Muslim now."

Master Devlin: "Oh dear."

A gypsy woman walks past the office.

Master Devlin: "You don’t have gypsy syphilis again, do you?"

Travers: "I’m sure I have lots of diseases at this point. AIDS is a big problem now. Super Duper AIDS, I should say... and Super Plus Bad Syphilis. Healthcare is in the dark ages again. You see, most of these people inherited this land, but they can’t run it. Everything is breaking down. The bridges collapsed long ago..."

Master Devlin: "Where’s Larry Fraser?"

Travers: "Put to fire for witchcraft."

Master Devlin: "I see... Well, I refuse to accept this timeline. If only Mayuri were here, I’d speak to her about time travel..."

Travers: "Yeah, well she’s not. She’s dead, Dave. They’re all dead... There’s nothing we can do but exist in misery. It’s too late for you to do anything now... Maybe if you hadn’t been in a fugue during the revolution... I don’t know... maybe things could’ve been different. But this is the world we live in now. I haven’t even stepped outside this building in 15 years! It’s horrible out on the streets... the people are just awful...

"I know Travers was a dirty dog... but these people are just literally dirty. About 69% of the population is homeless. So I just sit here, receiving substandard oil changes from illiterate employees... collecting various diseases..."

Master Devlin: "I... I can’t accept this..."

Travers: "You have to. This is your life now... You’re welcome to take your pick of any of these women. Just please... don’t go outside. It’s not safe. You can’t fight all of them — not even you..."

Devlin sinks into his chair, utterly devastated and defeated. Travers sees the look of shattered heartbreak on the Master’s face... and starts to become overcome with guilt.

Travers: "Alright, alright! That’s enough! Show’s over."

He gets up, climbs to the window, and pulls the blinds up — revealing the window is actually an ultra HD flatscreen TV. He grabs the controller and changes the channel, causing the smog-filled dystopian world to vanish and be replaced by a WBC news report on the streets of a much more recognizable, normal-looking Widdlington.

The Master is stunned, his eyes darting around in confusion.

Travers: "See? It’s all alright. It was just a joke. A bad… joke… and for the record, it wasn’t my idea."

Waldo pops out from behind a filing cabinet.

wF: "Oh Traverses… what for you ruined the pranks? It was going so well."

Travers: "Too well… it was damn cruel… I had to put a stop to it. The man looked like he was ready to end it all."

Ed: "You slimy little shit… who the hell do you think you are, spoiling my fun?"

They all turn to see Ed appear on the TV, then literally climb out of the screen like in Ringu.

Ed: "I decide when enough is enough! Not you, Travers… you dare defy your god?"

Travers: "No. I mean yes, but I couldn’t help it… I never wanted to do it in the first place, but I went along out of loyalty to you. But… he looked so sad… I couldn’t stand it."

Ed: "Shut up. I’ll deal with you later. Well, I suppose the ruse could only last so long. Now, Travers, you will pay these foreign women for their time and have them sent to the docks under police escort. They’re taking the next ship out of Waldoshire. I don’t care where they go, but they can’t stay here. And get rid of all this fake sci-fi equipment, Waldo. We have no more need of it."

wF: "Yes sir, my lord. Thanks very much for allowing me to be part of your elaborate prank. It was a real treat. The pasta man was devastated."

Master Devlin: "Ed…" 😡

Ed turns to the Master.

Ed: "And you… this time it was a mere joke, but next time it could be very real. Let this be a cautionary tale."

Dr. Shawn walks in.

Dr. Shawn: "Hello… oh… what’s going on in here? I see you’ve made some… changes?"

Ed: "Oh look, it’s Doctor Bimbo… Widdlington’s favourite pornstar."

Master Devlin: "She was deepfaked, you prick."

Ed snaps his fingers, and suddenly Devlin’s mouth fastens up like a zip.

Ed: "Deepfaked, huh? So she says… Hey, wanna see something funny?"

The Master looks to see if Linda can see Ed. Clearly she can’t. She looks at the Master curiously.

Dr. Shawn: "Are you alright, Steven? You look a bit…"

Ed snaps his fingers.

Suddenly Linda looks dazed and bewildered. She grabs her head, then her eyes widen and a look of confused horror fills her face.

Dr. Shawn: "Umm… I just remembered something, I uh… I need to go…"

She runs out of the office.

Travers: "What was that all about? What did you do to her?"

Ed: "I made her remember doing all those porn videos. It was never a deepfake, but she wasn’t lying. She really thought that. I made her do them for my own amusement, then took her memories of doing it to make it even funnier. I just gave her back those memories."

Ed walks over, picks Travers up by the scruff, drops him in the wastepaper bin, and sits down on Travers’ chair, putting his feet up on the desk.

Ed: "You’ve all forgotten who runs this town, and it was high time for a reminder. You are all my playthings… Master Devlin, you look like you’ve got something to say?"

Ed makes a hand gesture, and the Master’s mouth unzips.

The Master coughs, clearing the saliva buildup.

Master Devlin: "Edward… coughs… nice of you to drop by, you sick fuck... And you, Travers, you were willing to accept those awful oil changes—all for a joke? You look very sick."

Travers: "I'm sorry, Master Devlin. I wanted no part of the prank. I said it was too far, but the editor said he'd punish me if I didn't comply. And I am, first and foremost, a loyal and humble, Ed-fearing goblin."

Ed: "Evidently not fearing enough, seeing as you saw fit to defy me. But fear not, your punishment will come soon enough."

Travers looks down, guilt written all over his face.

Master Devlin: "So, Ed. What can we do for you?"

Ed: "You can start showing more gratitude and respect to old Ed—for the world I provide..."

Master Devlin: "Why was all this necessary?"

Ed: "I thought it was high time I reminded you all who's running this show. Literally. And how much worse it could be. My co-editor has really been phoning it in of late, so I’ve been pulling overtime… which also means don’t expect him to come and rescue you from my wrath."

"Anyway, you’ll be pleased to know the dinosaurs are leaving Widdlington and heading south. They’ll be the country bumpkins’ problem now. The affected boroughs should be repaired and restored within 72 hours."

Ed gestures to the WBC report on the TV about the same subject.

Ed: "I was going to have you be the hero of the moment, Travers, but not anymore. Look at that face... Travers looks like a guilty dog. Ha ha ha. Perhaps I’ll turn him into a cockroach or something."

Suddenly, a major storm with thunder and lightning brews outside. They all glance out the window at the flashes in the sky. An otherworldly voice begins to speak as the sky flickers with each word.

Co-editor (voice): "Have you had enough yet? Is it really necessary for you to turn up in your physical form just to torment these people?"

Master Devlin: "Who the hell is that?"

Ed rolls his eyes and folds his arms.

Cody: "I would be the co-editor, Master Devlin, who hasn’t felt it necessary to make an appearance in this world. But ‘Ed’ here—if that’s what he’s calling himself—keeps showing up to ‘exert his dominance’ over you all, which I find rather bizarre, seeing that you all possess free will… What the hell is Mr. Travers doing?"

Travers is on his knees, bowing to the voice coming through the window.

The Master grabs Travers and pulls him to his feet.

Master Devlin: "Get up."

Cody: "Thank you, Master Devlin… Now, ‘Ed’, are you about done?"

Ed: "Yeah... yeah... sure... I’ve made my point... Nice of you to drop by, Cody... See you goons later..."

Ed vanishes.

The storm seems to die down.

Travers: "So… there really is another, huh?"

Master Devlin: "So it would seem..."

The Waldoverse continues in Democracy, Eh?