I speculated that the community knew about The Diagonal. W’s first foray into the region produced a default landing point of 181/181, which placed her in this almost impossibly and certainly impractically weighty clock tower. 558 prims! Certainly we must question whether prim/ land impact count is managed effectively here, which may actually bode well for a more penetrating examination.
She found a place to catch up with the local news and find out more about the town. Lots of changes, lots of updates. And a statement: if a building falls on you DON’T PANIC. Our crack hospital team will patch you up in no time. Hidi looks up into the rafters with this. This one seems sound enough. She’ll stay a bit longer, have another cup of coffee and read some more. Apparently the local police force is hiring. Maybe she could work as a beat cop to pay what is obviously going to be expensive rent here. Local general hospital hired new chief administrator; you can legally purchase weed here: local pot shop has just been taken over by the Greentree family. Wasn’t she just reading about Greenforests somewhere? And then, to finish off, an advice column by Aunt Auntie. Oh dear, Hidi thought. This town promises to be more than expected! Something about playing rough then playing nurse, dot dot dot.
The house fronting the pool was currently unoccupied, and at 900 a week rental may remain so for a while — *I* certainly can’t afford it. What quickly caught my eye: the “Briar Wick House” was created by a company called ROOST. Check out their logo:
Despite the barrier between us, the dog next door kept barking at me. I knew I would need a new dis-guise. I decided a black man might do the trick. I called in Duncan, who was, after all, part of the crew; on the payroll. His VHC City apartment was back on the radar, ward George still in tow. But George was too young to be sent to this place, this paradise of sorts. I worried about him meeting the wrong kind of Adam and Eve, ones guided by the snake instead of the God. For this was a fallen place at the rotten core of it (Apple). Marty was still with me; we were still flying high. I decided to stay in the air for a while. The oxygen, although thin, was free up here. We’ll leave the storytelling to others. Goodbye for now! (zoomm!)
“Okay Gee Cat,” I requested from above. “Try to figure out why one pool is restricted and the other not. From your unrestricted position of course. And try to ignore the dogs.”
“Cat,” he channeled from below in his haughty tone. “One is a cat. Like me. Dis-guised as a dog.”
We had our first big clue.
“I was sudden-ly at two more pools, un-restricted this time,” he wrote later after following an all important lead. “A dog pa-trolled the one over the fence. I was safe! I was *in*.”
I looked at the island from above. I guess I can see the resemblance: 2 blue pools substituting for 2 blue eyes, obvious reference to the Arkansas-Missouri polarity as well that centers our US of A. One closed (restricted property) and one open (unrestricted). And the little pool there I was floating in: a (sideways) mouth of sorts? What is the island saying?
Since we were merged as a ship Marty wasn’t there to answer me. I would have to call in yet another.
“Bow wow wow!”
Maybe this wasn’t the best outfit for the situation.
HOOPA ULLA . Former Choctaw town . From Choctaw opa , owl , ola , hooting .
I am so TILE right now.
But I need someone here to help me enjoy it. Blackbyrd Beach, eh? And a Black Lives Matter sign just west, or what can be called the northeast corner of Southwest, Nautilus (continent) that is. For we may be completing the corners of the continent tonight, a rough outline of a square, or a circle and a square together: squaring the circle. That’s what this is all about, after all. Back to who will be joining me. W will fill out the rest.
While we’re waiting, let’s check out that map of the area.
The central island Jeffrey Phillips is merrily floating in a TILE Pool upon will be called OWL, and perhaps represent a backwards world, not technologically but just reversed, as is the name of Jeffrey Phillips himself looking from the direction of “Twin Peaks”. For there it is, of course, Phillip Jeffries, the famous head of the infamous Blue Rose Task Force… who doesn’t want to talk about Judy and her slippery shoes. Death! Almost forgot that Jeffrey needs to figure out the hows and whys of his own so that it won’t be repeated. He was a slipperman. He fell to his death on Corton, a Far Eastern island — actually two islands, larger and smaller — of Linden design.
“Dead of night, eh?” Not a girl but Marty. Work before pleasure I suppose.
“Hop on,” and we turned into a ship.
(to be continued)