“His name is Art[ion] Mlckk'n Inchance-rify.”

Art[ion] Mlckk'n Inchance-rify rode across a landscape of lies. Pry-Boak [cL^YoP] had told him exactly this would happen in literal terms. He had of course not thought that it would be the case that he would ride across a landscape of lies explicitly in literal terms, as Pry-Boak [cL^YoP] had said he would. But this was, in literal terms, exactly what, as Pry-Boak [cL^YoP] had indicated he would, Art[ion] Mlckk'n Inchance-rify, was doing.

He pulled the reins on his horse in the fashion that a man riding a horse did – it was a big black one the source of which - where he had gotten it from - in fact he did not in this moment recall; he thought he should give it a name, it didn't have one. But before he could formulate quite what, something in the landscape itself, in the atmosphere it engendered, shifted, again, in some unidentifiable fashion, arresting his attention. In fact - or - perhaps it was a demand that was in his glands - not the landscape. The landscape itself.

There was a relationship between his glands and the landscape itself – and/that he was looking at it.

It was -

It did have a relationship with his glands that place; it securely did. There was a sensation of his physically measuring the landscape as he passed through it – not measuring, of his gauging?, he didn't know, there was a specific sense in which it operated through him? It existed in relationship to him anyway, more explicitly in...

His glands. His attributes. He had two attributes, he reminded himself as if it was a new thing instead of the way that he'd been born -

But the landscape itself was -

He had two glands, he remembered; his ear was one. It was transparent. This was how it worked: There were varieties and species of lies that not only changed its colour, changed the colour it showed/was, but imparted to him a kind of – he couldn't describe it, a floating impression; a taste, a flavour; it was a cadence to reality itself it imparted, and in proportion to the … he didn't know... to the different aspects of this cadence by means of which he could detect, and this was more or less inexactly how, the extent to which a person, but more usually the world around him, was a lie.

He had the supernatural imbued capacity to gauge whether or not and to what extent the world around him was a lie.

He had another gland too. His body had glands, he was talking - he was thinking about the supernatural ones.

These were things that required names also. They had names -

That other gland -

The landscape -

If he could finish a thought - he blamed ashcaff/his self-destructive urges and what they'd, obviously, already done to his brain.

He'd hoped he'd have more years than he obviously did have, before the permanent cognitive damage was at least – obvious -

But that other gland – this really did have a name, not a particularly pleasant one, not polite, per se, he didn't like saying it to ladies, noble ladies, who owned their own - the things they wore, corsets, lady breaches that split up the middle/separated - that did - the legs in a handy manner, (a dress!).

He couldn't say the name to these women. But in his own head he could, at least, because he knew it: The name of this other gland, under his throat, under his neck, was the Bollock of Wanting; they called it; he called it, the Bollock of Wanting. It was an under-neck bollock/testicle, that wanted. - A lot.

It hung under his neck a bit, and it wanted. Oh, how it wanted, it desperately, desperately, in continuation really, wanted; but above all the things it wanted, the Bollock of Wanting. Was story. Was a nice story. Was a nice good old fashioned tale, a story, in which he himself was, he was in it too.

The Bollock of Wanting, the thing above all it wanted - this was what it wanted really - it fed itself with other wants, demanded them when its primary want wasn't available: which was story.

For instance now like the story even now that he was apparently in - that he was currently in, that you could specifically call - his identity being what it was and who he was -

A quest.