Zorm Zimblato woke up feeling odd. He propped himself up on his four elbows and looked around his bedroom. Everything was in its proper place; the jelly-birds were in their tanks, the eraser-dog was sitting in its basket quietly erasing text with its nose, and several suction-lizards were sucked onto the ceiling as usual. So why did he feel so strange?

Zorm didn't like greedy people, or greedy 'weeples' as they called themselves. He had simple tastes and desires, and no matter how many times he got zonked by nano-blast commercials, he never felt the urge to buy a floating cup holder, neon toilet paper, or boots that could talk. Some of his acquaintances already had twenty floating cup holders, and a dozen pairs of talking boots but they still seemed to want more.

He also hated war. His stomach turned whenever he got zonked with an image of casualties. Injured children broke his heart. How could a child be expected to live the rest of his or her life with only three arms, for example? If he had his way, he'd make it so all the weeples could never use weapons again. If greed and war were eliminated, he reasoned, the damage to the delicate eco-balance and climate of his planet could be stopped and maybe even reversed. But what could he do? It was just a pipe-dream. Besides, most of those in charge of the huge mega-corporations and the semi-fascist governments were greedy and war-like.

Zorm lived on a planet called 'Wobble'. They called it that because about once per decade that's exactly what it would do: wobble back and forth in space like a giant billiard ball on an uneven patch of felt. Tides would come and go at the wrong times, terrible tropical storms would appear, and huge tidal waves would rush to shore, often decimating coastal cities. In addition to all of that there were more earthquakes and volcanoes after a wobble. The other side effects of the wobble were less immediately obvious...

On the morning in question, he woke up feeling not altogether himself. The wobble had occurred during the night, which might explain it, but he had already lived through three of them in his life, and none made him feel the slightest bit odd. He was thirty-five years old; still a young man by Wobble standards.

He lived in Gimbluvia, which was a land-locked country. They hadn't had any earthquakes or suffered from tidal waves or volcanoes. Gimbluvia had always been pretty much untouched. He was ashamed at the aggressive behavior of his government toward its neighbors. He didn't believe for a minute that the 'wobble' had anything to do with their military operations, although that seemed to be their excuse for everything from chemical warfare to bombing runs. He certainly hadn't had any sudden desire to take up arms. But now he felt strange. He knew that it was possible for a wobble to affect an individual, but it was also very unlikely. There were five and a half billion people on the planet. The odds of it affecting him alone were infinitesimal.

Since it was 'Blorgday' ' the ninth day of the ninth nine-day week of the ancient and slightly wrong-but-still-used calendar ' he didn't have to go to the office. Not that he minded his job. Zorm worked as an un-filing clerk, which meant he spent each ten-hour day searching for documents that his bosses wanted removed from the files and destroyed. Despite the pleasure un-filing gave him, he usually enjoyed his occasional day off. For some reason he didn't really enjoy it this time as he sat around his house drinking gliffberry tea and feeling weird. His three hearts were beating steadily enough yet he felt shaky and unnerved. His subconscious seemed to be trying to tell him that something important was on the horizon, but he didn't know if that should make him feel giddy with joy or terrified.

Up to this point I have referred to Zorm as a 'he', but perhaps it is time for me to explain about genders and the various weeples of his planet. Like Earth, Wobble had one (recognized) sapient species, but unlike humans of earth, weeples had three genders. 'Maglorfs' functioned much like human males, and caused all of the problems. 'Didleeps' were similar to human females and were the mothers and nurturers on Wobble. 'Gleefs' were neither male nor female. They were the most industrious of the genders and the least prone to socializing. Without the motivation of finding a mate, they tended to spend a lot more time working and philosophizing and not much time dancing and playing. Even as children, most Gleefs preferred studying, painting, or practicing a musical instrument to going outside and playing 'Slugball' or 'Hide and Spit' with the other children.

Zorm was a Gleef. He lived alone and liked it that way.

On this particular Blorgday he continued to feel odd and ill-at-ease the entire day. Earlier than usual he got into bed, but had difficulty getting to sleep, which was not like him at all. He hadn't even drunk any caffeine-worm juice since he'd had the day off, but still he tossed and turned for hours. Before he knew it, the morning sun was shining in his eyes. He must have fallen asleep at some point during the night, but he couldn't remember it and didn't feel refreshed whatsoever. He was just considering calling in sick and going back to bed when the door chime zonked him. Bloop! Bloop!
"Aaargg! Who on Wobble could it be?" he wondered aloud. He NEVER had guests in the morning. He put his four arms into the sleeves of his robe and wrapped it around his torso. Then he shuffled over to the door on his big furry legs.
"I wasn't expect..." he began as he opened it, but the rest of the sentence remained in his mouth, and it tasted awful. Zorm was shocked, for before him stood all twelve high ministers of the R-12. The twelve richest nations in the world made no pretense. They went right ahead and called themselves the R-12, and everyone knew they had the power. Behind those twelve Weeples (mostly Gleefs, which was something Zorm was secretly quite proud of) stood three Maglorfs who were the presidents of the three largest mega-conglomerates.

On the left, looking fashionably nerdy with seven pocket protectors, was Dirb Blates of Feebleworks & Microgleeb Co., The technology mega-conglomerate that ruthlessly shut out all competition and stifled innovation.

In the center, as always, stood Gorf Zockablellor, who was the chairman of Foible Funds Inc., famous for banking, money laundering, graft, and corruption.

Hulking on the right was Blick Changeley; the chief executive of Halliburgle Co., developer of Fossil fuels, war machines, propaganda, and secret spy technologies.

These three men were the richest and most powerful individuals on the planet, and everyone knew their faces and names.

Zorm felt very embarrassed standing there in his robe.
"I'm honored by your visit," he said, and then blurted "but why are you here?"
Blick Changeley stepped up and looked at him with a lopsided sneer.
"We are here because you must..." he got an expression on his face like someone was twisting his ear. 'You must accept the position."
Zorm scratched his head. "What are you talking about?" He was starting to regain his composure and getting a little angry despite the importance of his visitors. After all, he hadn't even had his rapidly cooling morning cup of caffeine-worm juice. If this continued much longer he'd be late for work.
Blick Changeley Stared him down, and impossible as it may seem, his lip curled even more. "There will be no argument. You must come with us."
"Why?"
Blick Changeley sighed, and a thinner Maglorf with glasses named Blondle Dumbsflub stepped beside him. "You must come and take your throne, obviously."
"What throne? What on Wobble is going on?"
Blondle Dumbsflub whispered in Blick's ear. It sounded as if he said something like 'I told you we should just gas him and toss him in the back of the oscillating furglemobile." Out loud he announced, 'You must take your throne as Grand Emperor of Wobble."

Zorm fainted.

When he came to he was sitting on an enormous gold and velvet throne and had a heavy crown on his head. It was giving him a headache. He tried to remove it repeatedly but a loud voice kept telling him not to. A crowd was in the grand hall and many weeples were pointing and staring at him. Finally, he couldn't stand it, and ordered them to leave. They looked shocked, but they obeyed. Next, a very tall, thin Maglorf with a pointy head and eight arms entered. He said he was the royal page, and told him he could remove his crown any time after two o'clock. He only had to wear it between one and two every day while he met with his 'subjects'. The wall clock said 1:55. Keep in mind that a Wobble minute is equal to twelve earth minutes.

The page also informed Emperor Zorm that he could issue any royal decree he wished and it would be obeyed. That sounded good. He didn't waste any time. He immediately ordered the wearing of crowns abolished. Then he stroked his double-cleft chin and pondered his situation for a while. He'd often imagined the things he'd do if he was in this position, but now that it was real he felt a bit overwhelmed. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. Could the entire population actually suddenly believe he should be emperor? He knew wobbles sometimes had mental effects on one or two people, or in some extreme cases entire nations, but a whole planet? Perhaps. Animals weren't immune either. Once an entire species called 'memmlings' which were cute, dog-like furry creatures, suddenly seemed to think they were birds. The entire memmling population jumped from cliffs and perished in a single afternoon.

For centuries, weeples had held religious beliefs which kept most of them from really investigating the wobble phenomenon. Their bibles taught them that every ten or so years the Gods (there were three) moved the sun, moon, and stars back and forth for a minute in order to show off their power. It worked. Most weeples were afraid of the gods, and every week (which was nine days long) they brought offerings (usually pu-pu fruit or jelly-birds) and placed them on the altar of the triangle temples located in every district. Each district had their own version of the bible of the three Gods and slightly different customs. Each one also thought that they were the only ones actually appeasing the Gods. Zorm's parents, a Maglorf and a Didleep, had brought him up to believe that the greater sun God (known as Apoglow) was actually responsible for the wobble and must therefore be prayed to and given offerings daily. But being a typical Gleef, Zorm tended to have a more scientific mind-set and pretty much took all religious talk with a grain of salt (spice weed, actually, to use the correct Wobble terminology). He was nothing like his parents, who were true believers. Now he was a little worried. Maybe Apoglow was angry with him and this was the God's strange way of showing it. Zorm looked down at the pointy-headed Maglorf page.

"Page?"
"Yes, your royal majesty and most exalted Gleef. How may I be of service?" The page spoke in this manner all the time and it began to get on his nerves.
"Just 'your majesty' is ostentatious enough, thank you."
'One thousand pardons, your ultimate worthiness, I was only - " The Page bowed repeatedly.
"There you go again, but oh, never mind, I'm sure you mean well. I want you to bring me a list of the names and addresses of the high ministers of the R-12. Also, I want you to summon Blick Changeley to appear here at 2 o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Can you do those two things for me, page?"
"Yes, it will be done, oh wondrous fabulousness - "
"Stop! Don't keep complimenting me. It just makes blood rush to my head, and then my third heart starts beating wildly to try to make up for it. It's very discomforting."
"Ten thousand pardons, your eminent and fantastic mightiness ' I..."
"What is your name, page?"
"My name is Glamp, your elemental and holy effervescence, uh, that is Glamp Shnorp, your absolute divine shining - "
'Your name is Glamp?"
"Yes, Your awe inspiring, unimpeachable sublime-ness, - "
"bit of an odd name, isn't it?"
"Well, yes, your - "
"I'll bet the kids in school teased you quite a bit, eh?"
"Yes, your everlasting, righteous, majestic, imperial - "
"I hereby decree that you, Glamp, are only allowed to address me as 'sire' and nothing else. Is that understood?"
There was a moment of silence.
"Yes... Sire."
"So, what did they say when they teased you, Glamp?"
"I'd prefer not to go into that, Sire."
"Tell me!"
"Um, gulp... you know, Sire, the usual kinds of things... turn off the lamp, Glamp, or do you have a cramp, Glamp? Or: hey Glampoo, I think you need a shampoo!"
"How ridicul - I mean, how awful for you! I really shouldn't have asked, but I seem to have acquired a slightly sadistic streak. Kids can be so mean, can't they? Heh, heh. All right, then, Glamp Shnorp, go on with your duties."
"I'm at your command... sire."
As the red-faced page left the room, Zorm noticed that he had a slight limp on his left-side third leg. There surely must be an enjoyably embarrassing story to go with that... Have to ask him about it next time... Oh, I must stop.

Later a series of servants entered, bringing him food and drink, and offering to massage him and carry him to his royal bedroom. As he climbed aboard the royal litter, unintentionally kicking several of them in the head, he sighed. So far, his first day as emperor hadn't gone too badly. It wasn't quite as satisfying as his usual un-filing job, but then nothing in life could be expected to compare with the wonderful feeling of finding and destroying files. He stared out the window of his royal suite. He was somewhere in the city ' his city, he could tell that much ' but he still hadn't seen the outside of this building. There hadn't ever been an emperor of Wobble before him as far as he knew, so they must have quickly converted some public building or hotel for this purpose. Tomorrow he'd take a walk outside.

In the morning He was able to confirm his suspicions. The sixteen guards who accompanied him were bristling with heavy weapons and didn't seem at all happy about the excursion, but Zorm enjoyed his walk. He now knew that he was staying in the famous five-star Gablort Apex Hotel, not more than an hour's walk from his apartment. A banquet room had been hastily converted into the royal hall. Hmm... he closed his eyes and images of a lavish new royal palace built in the center of the city danced through his mind, but he instantly berated himself. How could he order others to build something like that? What kind of hypocrite would that make him? No, he wasn't going to let himself get greedy, even with the wobble effect excuse as handy as it was. He had more than enough luxuries already; most Weeples couldn't even afford to stay in this hotel for a single night.

Blick Changeley appeared right on schedule.
"Blick?"
"Yes?"
"Aren't you supposed to say 'your highness' or something?"
"Uh, my mistake, your highness."
Even that word sounded like a snicker with a sneer when Blick Changeley said it.
"I am the emperor of Wobble, correct?"
Blick mumbled something incomprehensible.
"Well?"
"Yes. I suppose so."
"Then you will obey my commands, correct?"
Blick Changeley seemed to squirm. "I hope you're not going to start trying to make policy decisions. I hardly think you are qualified."
"Guards?" Zorm called out to the two storm trooper-like thugs who were always positioned on either side of the throne. 'Take this man into custody. Keep him in one of the hotel ' er ' palace rooms here until he's ready to change his attitude. He is to be allowed no communications with the outside. Understood?"
They bowed in unison and their voices were throaty and guttural. "Yes, your highness."
Blick Changeley whined and grimaced lopsidedly as they dragged him from the hall. "This is outrageous! I have many important duties. You can't just lock me up!"

The next day, he met with Dirb Blates and Gorf Zockablellor. Neither meeting was any more productive than the one with Blick Changeley and soon all three powerful Maglorfs were locked in hotel rooms.

Unfortunately, even with the three most powerful players out of circulation, for the most part business as usual continued. Their underlings were well trained, so in order to form his own counter-force Zorm ordered Glamp to call for meetings with environmentalists, peace advocates, and defenders of the poor. They were hard to find at first, but for a mere page he proved to be quite a resourceful fellow. He scoured the city's watering holes, networking and getting seriously sloshed. In this manner Glamp recruited many Maglorfs, Gleefs, and Didleeps to the cause. Zorm briefly considered having Glamp promoted from a mere page to an entire book! Within a few weeks he had oodles of reform-minded weeples armed with imperial decrees storming out to infiltrate businesses and government offices all over Gimbluvia. He figured that if he could make some real positive changes in his own land, he could use it as a model for the rest of the world.

A few months later Zorm was sitting on the throne enjoying a piping hot cup of caffeine-worm juice. A whole team of Gleefs was giving his various extremities manicures and pedicures. It felt good to allow himself to be pampered thus occasionally. He, Glamp, and his whole band of reformers had all worked hard and things were really changing in Gimbluvia. Fair treaties had been signed with their neighbors, pollution levels were at record lows, and poverty and unemployment had been almost eliminated. Other countries were already gradually implementing his policies so he felt on top of the world. Nothing could go wrong!

That night, one of the most extreme wobbles in recorded history occurred. Aircraft, trains, ships, and hundreds of nerblegarf carts stopped, toppled, or crashed. Electric power was interrupted in many areas, causing the blinking Xeeble Zonkers to malfunction. Worst of all, the royal page lost his mind and ran away to parts unknown.

Suddenly to everyone, Zorm included, the idea of an emperor seemed ridiculous. He looked out the window of the royal suite. An angry-looking crowd of Weeples was demonstrating in front of the 'imperial palace' carrying signs (some weeples could carry as many as twelve in their various hands). It seemed so unfair. Didn't they notice how much better things had gotten since he took over and didn't they know that the position had been thrust upon him? The signs and shouts were getting more and more raucous as the morning wore on. 'Down with the emperor' and 'no emperor' became 'death to the emperor' and 'off with his head, or at least an arm or two'. Zorm was getting frightened. He didn't know how long the imperial guard could hold this ever-growing mass back and for all he knew some of the guards may be ready to turn on him as well. He opened his window and leaned out.
"I did it all for you!" He shouted, struggling to lift his voice over the crowd. "Don't hate me, Gimbluvia! It wasn't my choice to be emperor, but I did my best..."
His reply was a shower of pu-pu fruit, some of which was in cans. He quickly ducked back into the room and closed the window. He searched his closet for some plebeian looking clothes, but everything in there was gaudy enough to give him away in a minute. Then he had an idea. He took off his clothes. He was stark naked as he swooshed through the pneumatic weeple tube down to the ground floor. The imperial hall was deserted. The guards had left their posts! That awful, heavy crown was sitting under the throne right where he'd left it months before. Zorm groaned as he placed it on his head. It was even more painful than he remembered, but hopefully he wouldn't have to wear it for long. Using all four arms for leverage, he pulled open the massive front doors and stepped out onto the top of the stairs and looked at the crowd below. They cringed and covered their eyes as several weeples shouted "The emperor has no clothes!" It's working, he thought, and stood up a little straighter, but then someone (it sounded suspiciously like a child) shouted "get the silly Gleef!" and someone else yelled "get his crown!"
They rushed up the stairs with a roar.

He scrambled back inside, closed and barred the doors, and ran for his life. Throwing off the crown, which clanged loudly and rolled under a chair, he ran past the royal throne and around to the rear exit. A pair of coveralls was hanging on a hook. It was designed for a Maglorf with eight arms, but he didn't have time to be choosy so he hurriedly put it on. The extra sleeves flopped around like limp water weeds. After he got the back door open and ran out into the street he looked back at the building. Goodbye, hotel/palace! He didn't feel sad, strangely enough; he felt relieved. Zorm Zimblato soon blended into the crowded streets and was able to walk all the way home.

The next night there was another wobble! It was the first time two were ever recorded in a single week. Zorm felt very normal the following morning and enjoyed a leisurely cup of scalding hot caffeine-worm juice in his own kitchen. A few days later, after being zonked repeatedly by disgusting news reports showing all of the same old scoundrels including Blick Changeley and friends returning to their positions of power and influence, Zim got up the nerve to call and ask for his old job back: Un-filing. He felt an impossibly wide smile take over his face (showing off all seven rows of teeth) as his boss told him how much they'd missed him.
"Ahh..." he sighed with relief between coughs, as he gazed at the smoggy skies on his way to the office, "what else is a Gleef to do? Weeples on Wobble... they don't stay down."

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