“I’m telling you, Mike,” Pat relays telepathically. “If the next box is one specific color, one *specific* color… then we can’t kill her. We just can’t.
“We can’t kill her brother of mine (sigh).”
2 boxes later, past the demonstration of TILE that placated the onlooking, desirous ghouls, she finds the key, the center of it all.
Switching from colored to black and white, she can now unlock the door with the Newton-Jasper cube indicating scale.
Damn, thinks Mike. 2nd one today.
I never left The Sphere.
I’m still in Holland!
Philip wakes up.
—–
“I have a surprise for you today, Philip,” spoke Lexi at the breakfast table set up between their two bedrooms on the upper level of her Nawt Vaya house. “I think you’ll like it.”
—–
“Holland?”
“Yeah, you said you missed Amsterdam. So: here we are (!).”
“I said I *missed* Amsterdam. As in bypassed it, or at least skirted it. I think.”
“Well… now you have a kind of second chance. A Second Lyfe second chance. We’ll start at the northwest corner here and make our way across. Just like old times.”
“Hmmm.”
“You… don’t like it?”
Yeah. Why not, he thinks. And they head toward the center of the mocked up, 2 sim city where Lexi has another bright idea.
“Let’s get bikes, Philip (!). Like that guy over there.”
—–
Riiing riiing. “Out of our way! LOSERS.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0604, Europe, Hana Lei^^, Holland, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, Nevada, NVFS
Suddenly he was underwater again, although still staring at The Sphere. This was the center of his submerged Alamo Sea town!
Like Jack before him, he found himself staring at himself…
… as he went inside.
Further…
And…
… gone.
“What just happened here??” cried the observer of the observer from his control room far above it all. Time to send in another.
It was time to stop monkeying around. There were lands to explore, places to visit. I *may* be moving away from Aisle of Palms this month but still not sure. If my rent wasn’t so darn cheap, ha…
Nevertheless, I have a new area of interest on the Jeogeot continent: its largest inland sea with an interesting little town to its northeast called Juho (where Trevor/Philip is pictured playing around above) and another large region to explore to its east — directly se of Juho — named Scire Gaea Park, an older and more established set of linked parcels. And that’s just what I’ve found so far.
Most importantly for Trevor/Philip in the moment, this inland sea doesn’t *stink* like the one he lives near up there in Grand Theft Auto V called Alamo. He can ignore such limitations as bad textures and lack of proper distance sighting for a bit.
He turns in his tracks and then remembers he needs to find Jack. Jack the Dogg. Last he heard he was hanging with a bunch of airplanes at a hanger down on the south coast of Nautilus. He has a landmark, thanks to [delete name]. Monkeying around over, as I said. Time to act like a man now and remain upright and beholding to others of his own kind.
“Thank Gods you’re here, Trevor-Philip,” says the middle sized orange plane representing the present Jack, as opposed to the larger future one and smaller past one also around. “Quick. Get in and stabilize the timeline before I dissociate again.”
“I’m here for you, buddy.”
And then they were up in the air, heading for The Sphere. Not far past that mountain up ahead.
It’s spotted us! Philip thinks. I mean, it’s spotted me and himself. Time to bail, which of course was the plan all along. See ya Jack! Hello Jack!
“GREETINGS,” it said simply and plainly enough, popped out a bit from its base in comparison to the Jeogeot version pictured toward the top of this here post. Along with developing a sort of face obviously for speaking and seeing purposes. But that other one was just a copy all along, a mere reminder for Trevor/Philip’s true purpose in Our Second Lyfe. To find *this*. “LONG TIME NO SEE,” it joked, now looking around the vicinity with its huge peepers for the crashed, dead version of himself.
Perfect.
Some call them Clear Lake and Black Lake, although the 1st wasn’t quite clear and the 2nd wasn’t quite black. Separated by only a small dam, they were closer in color than many wanted to admit. And it is here our Annaberg story must continue, kind of a new development since my first visit to the place back in late ’21, just after I learned I could retire the following March. Which, I suppose, sort of makes *my* story the same as Jimmy Dieselengine, formerly of Ossemotor, keeper, at least for the morning, of grandson Pete Pistle, who may be the same as Pete Piper from other places. His African mansion was raized because of his political beliefs. Here:
square of misery
—–
It was 3:18 in the afternoon when he walked into the bank and took out 499,000, a whole Reno’s worth of money as they say in Sunklands speak. Cory Piper, father to Pete (perhaps), still looking for his maw, still banking on the state of affairs to improve and that the wall between Nevada and California would finally be ripped down. Fat chance, I say. Will free the tree people inside for one thing, who some, perhaps many, fear as green monsters. The ones who don’t want east and west merged will block it, I predict. Wally will live.
—-
10 months later and just below, a dog named Spider floats into the Cavern bar from the sky and orders 24 drinks, all with the same 4 numbers just rearranged a bit. All the bits, in fact — every possible permutation. Current bartender Edwin doesn’t know how to handle it and goes overload, which brings a small manager named Bach from the back for aid and assistance. Veiled, mysterious Alessandra looks on very interested, pretending not to be somebody else. But Bach notices before turning his back on the resolved bar situation and going back inside again. Whores of Babylon, he thinks, seeing a bit of black projecting from the white gown’s back, just enough to be tell-tale. What is *she* doing black, I mean, back?
Thumbs in his pockets to make him look cool (for no one), Sandman contemplates his next move.
Bank sounds good. Not a sand bank like he’s standing in but a bank bank. Just over there, Kera being its name. He needs some money to fund his defense. Because he will get sued over this. Might as well dress him like a man in black for preparation. Reno.
—–
“Reno,” he says to the teller of the day, who then gives him $499,000. Because if he had said that other prominent Nevada city he knew it would break him, his town, his sim. Sinsity — Middletown. It was coming. And he was just being dragged along in its wake like everyone else he knew and loved and cherished.
Pockets filled — he couldn’t even stick his thumbs in them any more — he gave now upfront Vanilla a kiss to say both thank you and goodbye and went his way. This was standard procedure these days, more Middletown meddling. What would the price be even next week?
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0311, Hana Lei^^, Nevada, Sand Springs
Sunklands 