He was back in Eveningwood. Dang, no papers left, he thought, staring over at the empty stand. Have to catch up with the news elsewhere, maybe that cafe, who was it — *Hidi* found earlier. Hidi who was White Mage, he knew now. His replacement in effect.
He joined the attached group and was able to move freely, once more, into the multi-sim city. Ultimately he knew he’d have to head back to the underground bar — and the bars — to pick up where he left off. but first…
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2021 EVEN LATER”!
I log out Wheeler to save memory. We can speak more freely now. “I was…” he began. “Born,” he said. “Naked.”
“Yes, we all are,” I said back, occupying the chair in front of him instead of Jennifer Lane. We would end this way, just the two of us. Man to man. “But you have a birthday hat instead of a birthday suit (now). You are acceptable.”
“Indian,” he then said. “Wells.”
“Yes, that’s your name. To some. I personally usually call you Tropp. You and me, we are different.”
“Yes.” Pause. “Studied… I am studied.” He looks down at his hands, noticing the flaws. Not on his face in this case but his hands. “Axis is here.”
“Yes, you are Axis, who is now Axis-Windmill. Should probably shorten that to something else. Any ideas?” I was tired of having to do all the thinking in this here blog and attached photo-novels, now almost 29 in number. So near the end… just around the corner…
“We’ll… see.” He takes a sip of tea. He adjusts the birthday cap on his head so it isn’t as askew to his face. Takes a minute, since he has to make it askew in the first place (see above). He realizes the scars on his hands were caused by heat. Scalding. He looks down at the smoke of the tea drifting up to his face. *And* his face. “I…. love…”
He changes. We were back to square one.
She looked over. “You are one again.”
“And so are you,” he quickly replied in his higher register voice, exactly one octave higher to be precise. “Jennifer Lane through and through, switched out from twin cousin Shelley Lane, aka Shelley Struthers (in Part 04). Marvelous.”
“And who,” Jennifer asks, “is this?” She looked to his left, but to an onlooker the chair would still be empty. We’ll thus withhold a picture until the end.
“Biff Carter,” answers Triangle between both Square and Circle, absorbing them. “You’ve met before, remember?”
“Maybe,” she shot back, getting defensive. Why was she getting defensive?
“I thought it would be best to end with the 3 cores getting together again. We should do this every once in a while. Catch up with each other. It’s taxing to the computer, but… the new one: not so much. Good you got a new computer during the pandemic.” He takes a sip of tea, ready for the other one (core) in the room to speak. Better prepare him. First we have to minimize a window, then log in the third… shouldn’t be long. Oops, he’s naked. Better get him some clothes, ha. And some tea.
“You!” Jennifer exclaimed about the manifestation. No collage needed for this one. 3 cores. Nifty. But it wasn’t Biff Carter.
“Pocket cup,” Triangle declared, moving his tea cup up into his shirt pocket to lighten the mood. We weren’t quite done yet.
He’d landed in the right spot. Now to end this.
You’ll have to excuse our friend Square. He hasn’t caught up with the book yet.” He looks over, notes the blonde hair. “I see you’re turning into Jennifer Lane again. Good one. Veyot likes that one.”
I took another sip of of my 4 shot latte and wrote: “Yes, I further said it was a real place, and *now* — since I spoke to her — (the maturation) means something else. Retirement, the library becoming an increasingly far away and fuzzy edifice after that. I proceed forward with my new life, my new eyes. I will have no need for physical books any longer. I am my *own* book. I am beyond my Firesign Theatre period, having absorbed the Piera (“Billfork” through “Uncle Meatwad”). I am even beyond the positive carrcasses (“Cpt. Mouse” through “Shiny Hare”). I enter something different.
“Good, good,” he said. “All and well.” He becomes Square and makes another collage.
“These…overlaps,” he says, now studying, now reading the physical book again while turned away, “are becoming interesting. Comings and goings. Dr. Mouse arrives at the same time he departs.” He turns the page. 5 seconds later: “And *Zach and Lena*. Aren’t they a couple already?”
I check his pronouncement with my already changed eyes. “Yes. Too much information,” I decided. “We must end and then begin again. Clean the slate.”
He switches sides of the couch again. “Downstairs first,” forward looking Circle requests. “We must speak with a few more people in this one.”
(to be continued)