Baker Bloch was not totally gone. He came back to help me with the Okinu glyphs. He was there after all, although he said it seemed a lifetime ago. “Pre-Hucka Doobie,” he offered while sitting across from me in the Table Room of the Blue Feather building, my home now in the heart of rebuilt Collagesity. “Explain Uniko,” I requested after hearing him talk about things not really relevant to the current plot for a while. That’s okay — he’s a lot more disconnected to the blog these days, so: understandable. I then listened with rapt attention.
15 minutes later I had most of the story. Okinu had been made over since the glyph days, with no glyphs found now. Maybe this was part of a cover-up, he speculated. He also theorized that the energy which created the glyphs in the first place was still present, and that led to the discussion of the archipelago shaped like the number 2. (Stands for) Our Second Lyfe obviously, but there was more.
The new, remade over Okinu sim had a default landing spot now on an island which lies partly in its northwest corner, the largest in said archipelago. In olden days, the sim was only water with no land atall. Certainly this upshoot was a mysterious island (Mystery Island, but part of the Misery Islands?), and one which contained yet another golden machine. I couldn’t help but make an instant connection. Here was Icarus, the rocket ship that would take me to not Mars, but someplace else. Somewhere inferior.
(to be continued)
Disguised as a woman, I went over to Marwood to chat with Jimbo/O’Jimbo a bit before the Big Trip about what might or could happen. Intrepid Rock came up early (and often), followed by Fisher’s Island. “Gap between,” spoke the former but also, impossibly, present agent of Pot-D and/or Pan-Z, given his death over a year ago in the Global Fire. “FRY is there” — he later said the word was all caps. “FRY is REALITY” — he said to spell reality out in caps as well when making this here blog post about our talk, because he knew that would happen too. I wondered about the connection between Fry and Fire, as in, “out of the frying pan and into the fire.” Had he escaped the fire through FRY, somehow? Did that make any sense?
I didn’t even have a name for the woman avatar I wore like a velvet glove on the golden robot’s hands we sat upon, and Jimbo/O’Jimbo didn’t ask. He wasn’t interested in a pickup line. He was doing something rather unspeakable to this big robot just before, so maybe he’s more into machines than people these days. But not old O’Jimbo in his pre-Jimbo, pre-death days. When I arrived several minutes before that, he was bouncing on a nearby trampoline while Drunk Dude stumbled and bumbled around down below. Sometimes the former was way up in the air while the latter lie crumpled on the ground. Frying pan and fire came to mind once more.
Suddenly Drunk Dude was up in the hand that Jimbo/O’Jimbo perched upon previously, talking about frying too close to fire. I knew where I had to go next.
I went over and talked to Elsa before I left about who was the best kisser she met this week. Tennessee came up; I *did* make an impression!