Daily Archives: August 23, 2018

sentry

I’ve been sitting at this crazy console looking toward the entry teleporter for about 15 hours now, Bendy thought to himself. *No one* has shown up. I hope Fisher is enjoying his crazy dreamy time. Is this a deserted ship? Like a desert isle? he then thought. Dead Greys? (Hector, Lewis, Gerry) Did they represent the *entire* crew?

But of course there’s Fisher’s dreams of Dr. Ice Cream and being revived here. We *had* to come here to this new New Island in some way, Fisher told him, which was a logical deduction. Red and green together making a whole. Or perhaps a hole.

Spocari entered. Bendy had missed him teleporting up while daydreaming.

The space captain spotted the robot and drew his weapons. “Identify yourself, stranger. It is not logical that you sit there in Willard’s place. Where is Willard? Identify yourself.”

“Um, Willard had the, er, day off. Yeah. He’s sick as well. And he fell… down some stairs. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

“Lies!” Spocari declared in his deep, level voice. “Dratted robot lies. That’s why you should all be on the surface and not up here… lying all the time. Down there in the muck and grime is fine. Bar Lemon,” he then stated. “Did you come up from Bar Lemon?”

Bendy dropped the pretense which he wasn’t good at anyway. “Er, no. From the mound. With the Greys. Dead.”

“Hector, Lewis and Gerry?” Spocari offered. “Fine alien men all. They will be missed. And of course I can survive as well on the surface like you lot. But no other biological agents aboard. Just I. Do you know why robot? How smart and wise are you? Are you like Walldo and just a photo droid? Or, well I can’t say her name out loud because of orders.”

Tronesisia! Bendy thought to himself. She *is* alive! “No,” he then answered Spocari. “I do not know why you can survive on the surface and not other biological agents on this ship.”

“I’ll give you a hint.” He readjusted his phaser and then cut the palm of his left hand with a tiny beam to reveal blood. Green all right.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

beach scene

“What’re you checking out bud?” a concerned Bendy asked his best friend Fisher who was looking at his hands.

“I think I cut myself on that old ferris wheel car in my dream last night. Is that possible?”

“Anything’s possible in a Wonderland, I suppose,” responded the robot. “Was this the spaceship again? Dr. Ice Cream?”

Fisher considered the question. “I guess it *could* have been. A captain was there. And a captain always has a ship by default. Right?”

“I reckon. Want another morning brandy? You can also pour some on that cut — if it is a cut — for disinfectant. But it just looks like a regular ol’ hand line from my perspective. Let me see.” Bendy examines his hand. “Yeah, definitely just a deep, reddish hand line. Heart, or perhaps head. Have you ever had your palms read? And this time I don’t mean by blood, ha ha.”

Fisher thought back. “Maybe when I was drunk once in Bennington North. Lots of palm readers there, going along with all the (tree) palms.”

“Lindens?” Bendy asked about the trees.

“No. Just regular mesh products. Like what’s on the original Fisher’s Island. The tiny one we erupted up to in our pink car from Second Lyfe’s vast underground. Or was it blue?”

“We better figure out such things before advancing the book further. This is 10. Often times 10 is a construction sign on a path one can progress no further upon. Like in The Swamp. You know, with The Cube.”

“I *don’t* know that, Bendy. How could I, as a character in such a book, know about The Swamp and The Cube? But of course I guess there’s always The Dreams.”

“It’s where photography will be reborn. 10 is the limit, Fisher. We’ll have to live inside The Cube after that. In The Swamp.”

He started studying his hands again, seeing something in the patterns. “Can’t wait.”

—–

“Oh I almost forgot to mention. I’ve been seeing *robots* around lately.”

“Mirrors?” Fisher joked.

“No. Actual real flesh and blood, er, nuts and bolts robots. A little one who motored up to me and introduced himself about a week back. Walldo he called himself, obviously after the town’s famous wall. But why? Then — I can’t believe I forgot to tell you this — I saw another one from more of a distance. And she looked like… Nah, it isn’t possible I know. But, get this, she looked like *Tronesisia*.”

“Get out of here. We know Tronesisia perished in the New Island catastrophe. Actually she perished before that, being frozen in the Artist Point Interactive display, apparently by this powerful witch named Hazel or Mid Hazel or something.”

“She’s old,” inserted Bendy. “But anyway, I called toward her — she was walking on the beach near that mound with the dead Russian Greys.”

“I know the place,” Fisher said, nodding his head.

“But then she just walked behind the mound from my perspective and never came out the opposite side. I hastened over to the beach — nothing inside. Just the Greys there, sprawled on the ground at the entrance, like usual. No Tronesisia. Maybe I imagined it?”

“Let’s go look at the scene of the crime — help take my mind off these crazy dreams.”

“Yeah, they’re getting crazier,” said Bendy. “Curiouser and curiouser, even.”

—–

“Do you remember *this*, Bendy?”

“*No.*”

(to be continued)

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

Wonderland

Fisher was having one of those dreams where all he could do was sit in a particular spot and look around.

Wonders.

A man with a red cross on his chess beckoned him down off his perch to play chest, insisting he take white.

“Black goes first,” he said after Fisher is seated, promptly sliding a pawn to King 4. Fisher found he was frozen again, unable to protest the rules change. The pieces moved before him against his will. It was over in 13: black triumphs once more. “Boris Spaskey!” he cussed, then imagined a black crow perched on the tombstone of a freshly dug grave. He didn’t dig it. He didn’t!

Objects spread beneath the waters in all sorts of mad ways.

A captain and his trip.

Dorothy at the beginning of both the yellow and red bricked roads. Spinning.

Another dreamer floated nearby, a mermaid.

She was having a slightly different dream where Fisher sat at a red desk and watched several stationary red spots in front of him.

When he moved, they moved (slightly).

It was time to talk to the red brain-heart.


Whom Bee Thee ???

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Filed under *Second Life, Braynard's Place^^, Wallytown/Fishers Island