Episode 62- FREQUENCY 98.8 Mamaks FM / A Digital Wonderland

Series: Digital Wonderland | Meta-Logs | Ongoing Absurdity Chronicles

A truthful deception hovered in plain sight between our eyes and the world—especially when a nasi lemak dream was conscripted inside a grieving dream.

The grievance, issued by the moon, cited not only the “provocative use of tropical heat,” but also the “mannerless presumption of the moon’s step-overability.”

It further decreed that being “irritated” constituted a direct violation of The Don’t-Annoy-the-Moon Law of 1861.

Henceforth, the Duchess must deliver a formal apology to the entire Solar System—preferably in writing. 

The apology should be broadcast via interplanetary teh tarik radio, on frequency 98.8 Mamaks FM, during peak mamak hours, precisely when twenty-two players chased a football, and certainly before the next grievance collided with another nasi lemak.

“I shall not budge,” the moon hummed. “If a planet cannot be stubborn, I might as well stage a total eclipse every day.”

Alice craned her neck, pondering the total eclipse—serious business, a daily cosmic shyness—and realized that the moon, by skipping its appearances, would live forever as a myth, a creature of imagination.

The universe did not merely jerk—it had acquired a permanent, nervous tic.

“And the moral is that,” she whispered, mimicking the Duchess’s sharp tone, "if you use a pepper to move a planet, the planet will pepper you back with complaints.”

"Children usually do," Alice laughed. 

The sentence had barely finished echoing when the celestial selves disengaged—stone from stone—politely, as if cosmo-mankind collaboration had been discussed, finalised, and momentarily enabled. A collaboration! At last, entirely on the fast lane—no table, no file, no stamp waiting for ink. 

Domestic chaos resumed at once—now legally cleared of cosmology.

“Here! You nurse it—no chance to refuse!” declared the Duchess, reciting from an ordinance entirely her own—too sovereign, too absurd, and far too ridiculous to ever be questioned.

She vanished.

Alice staggered under the weight and looked down. The baby’s face twisted most peculiarly.

His nose curled upward, his eyes shrank smaller, his ears broadened—

“Don’t stand there gawping!” roared the Cook, brandishing a frying-pan so broad it might have been hammered into armour.

“The soup wants more cili-padi pepper!”

But Alice wasn’t listening. Her attention clung to the bundle in her arms. 

It was no longer a baby—it had folded itself neatly into a chrysalis, wiggling and rippling as though a tiny life stirred within, moving through layers of spice, scattered source code, and the humming pulse of the story itself.

Somehow, I had lost control of the keyboard—each key had begun to write itself.

And this was its voice:

A protagonist dangled in suspense—a cliffhanger, if only for this instant, this instance.

Previous Episode: Spice drives Cosmology

Next Episode: Cliffhanger
A voice volunteered itself as a cliffhanger, 
But what is so great about a cliffhanger?

A surreal chapter in Alice’s digital dreamscape.

This post is part of an ongoing original metafiction series exploring identity, systems, and absurdity through a digital Wonderland.