“Ahh Mr. Murdochh. I havve finally found youu! Show me yourr inner circle, please. I’ve havve come such a verry loong way.” Ruby Fantasie was careful to pronounce another command line the right way. “Read: Orchard City.” The lid lifted.
“Touchéé! *Yourr* Avenuue has beeen topped by a Cherrry, huhh. Aaa (she points), Eee (she points again), Ccc (yet again). Cherrry Avenue inn toto. Not Murdochh anny loonger.”
She looks further. “Butt whatt is thiis Fff Ggg Hhh Iii near the miiddle? Do I neeed to loook furrther?” She clicks.
“Ii doo! I am insiide the insiide now. Lett’s talk. But I mustt adjuust my lang-uagge to the localls.”
So Ruby Fantasie made a fine day of it chatting with aliens Ingleboort and Flaarph and their human counterparts George and Harriet. She learned much about the history of Cherry Avenue, Lime Street and sandwiched-between Linden (or Lynden) Creek, which is probably the same thing as Our Second Lyfe. That’s where they came from — emerged from. That’s the bit still shrouded in mystery, as they say. Mistery.