Earlier:
“Thanks for letting me go first, Wheeler. I appreciate it.”
“Outta my way, BLEHHHH. Sorry!”
Category Archives: Nautilus
clean and filthy (reinforcing points (red shoes))
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0111, Lands End, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
the artist dreams (in back)
“Tell me about the tree, W.”
“This is it!”
—–
“Ah, yes. I see: TILE again.”
“Markings.”
“Of the modern?”
—–
“Another gallery on Nautilus, W. A new one. Left leaning,” he added, looking at the inworld map.
“This is me.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0110, Lands End, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
00310104
Waiting for the go cart race to begin. Excited whispers of Petty all around. Or is it Ketty? Who’s Ketty? Baker Bloch asks himself upon honing in on a name.
Ah yes, *Ketty* he remembers at the next stop in the Amusement Park after throwing up the entirety of his veggie burger eaten earlier that day. Wheeler soon followed suit — all over her man suit. The he sets them up she knocks them down situation continues…
The 2 88’s in back: fine.
“You okay?”
“*You* okay?” Wheeler returned, seeing more green around them than red afterwards.
Baker Bloch set his jaw straight. “We’ve got to get to Ketty before he gets to us.”
“Again!” Big breath. “Let’s just get out of *here*.”
“Okay.”
The 88’s volunteered to clean up but Wheeler thought that was beneath their job description. After performing the task anyway, they pointed out the word *custodians* in the 1st sentence of their contract.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0104, Lands End, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Wild West
player at piano
‘Big Red Machine,’ ‘Big Red Machine.’ *Here* it is.
No place to read — all seats taken, thanks to my colleagues in crime. Not crime — anyway, I’ll stand. I don’t mind. These 2 always seem to have the upper hand, testing this and judging or determining that. When I have the information in this book, things might change. Worth a try. Good, they’re not looking — absorbed in their own research.
Chapter 4: Twitch of the Morgan. Okay, getting somewhere. Um, hmm. (read read read). Ah ha. (scan scan scan) Getting late. The others seem bored. Better wrap this up, come back when I can ditch these two snitches — yes snitches. To the cause. I’ve found the book, that’s the important thing today. Fern is still looking around, almost as if — she can’t see me (!). Can they *hear* me? But too risky to test while she has the book. No need to attract attention to herself, whether she is truly hidden or not. She could become unhid, and whatever spell was cast on her by unknown powers (but probably Fern; maybe by accident even) wore off.
Okay, definitely getting weird here. Fern’s looked right at me several times now and it’s as if I didn’t exist (!). Ghosted somehow; Lichen the same. They seem to be finished with their own reading, kind of staring and glancing around. Probably looking for *me* I would assume, since we came in the same car or whatever. Carriage. The time is April through July, I know that. The day, the *century*, though, is unclear. Fern said this was a place we could research the hypercube, and better understand the link that is forming between 1st and 2nd lives. Great! I said, and Lichen also smiled across at me, knowing that Fern was onto something and this would be a better library experience than the one over in Dairocha Castle on Nautilus. This wasn’t Nautilus, oh no. This was the Orient by comparison. And me, me… Oriental. This is about me! Another test, most likely. But why?
The 9th and final chapter beyond the Great 8: gone. As if it had been ripped out by unseen hands. The crucial information! Soo sleepy. Fern and Lichen are still looking around. Sleepy. Eyes getting heavy. *Gone*.
“I don’t think Alysha is coming back,” Fern finally said, tired of the wait.
“No. She must have gone back to the carriage.”
“Carriage?”
“What-ever.”
Lumbering Big Red sitting nude with his big ass parked on the piano bench over there was finishing up Part 9 of his suite of compositions. Soon the spell would be over and Alysha would reappear, a bit confused but otherwise okay. But the book in her lap would have disappeared along with the music. One and the same.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0103, Dairocha, Mountain Lake, Nautilus, NORTH, Omega
Maria von trapped.
“I remember the circle squared, Hucka. Can I call you Hucka without the D? Or Doobie?”
“Call me whatever you like. Fred if you wish.” Hucka D. looked around at the same old place. The Old Same Place.
“That would, I suppose, be looking at the bell from below.” He peered at the old photo, then switched it back to Nautilus, the present square and circle combined. Gordie Down’s head blinked off, as if he’d fallen asleep. Wee Norris on his shoulders came around the bend like on a carousel and took over. “So here we are.”
“Fountain,” Hucka D. corrected after giving it some thought. “1/2 and 1/2, though, although we aren’t suppose to talk about that.”
“Limit saying that, yes,” Baker Bloch understood. So many 12 Oz Mouse references in their talkings, like it was the center of the Universe and not Clyde. But everyone knew it was Clyde. Trouble is, no one could get there to see what it was like, not even Gordie Down, although he continually reads about it dawn to dusk and dawn to dusk. Billie Jean Kidd dreams about it as well: a wanted paradise of sorts for her. Add in NORRIS and you get a 40 year stretch of history, not 20, a 2 fer 1 kind of deal-i-o or sumtin. That was the secret of Wheeler on top of Wilson. And Wilson on Wheeler – 1/2 and 1/2 again.
“Baker,” Hucka D. interrupted my reverie, as she was suppose to do here. “I… have to go.”
“Wee wee,” but he didn’t mean yes yes. Okay, 1/2 and 1/2. STOP
GO “I’m back. Someone needs to clean up in there.”
“Last owners,” I clarified. “It was as if the filth was baked in back there in the shadows, the darkness. Same in the bedroom.” But Baker Bloch knew he wasn’t suppose to talk about that room. Keep with the bath.
“There’s tiles out in the shower — I pulled back the curtain — couldn’t help it; saw the outline of something through the curtain. You need to fix that Baker B. And the fence. Neighbors are talking. People beyond the veil are talking, like [delete name]. How are you going to find Ancient Clyde in all its black and white glory with its horsed and horseless carriages if you can’t even manage the present (situation), hmm?”
He, I mean, she had a point (*scroll*). She gets up then down and points to the one with the stinger beside masked Gene Fade. “This is me.”
In a whale of a position, a tree grows out of Newt’s head.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0702, Herman Park, Nautilus, Paper, Paper Soap+, Wealthy Mountain
01-
On a tip from someone in Squared Root City, she decided to confront them, this bigoted “Annaberg” audience, in a private public post. “Who are you!?” they cried from their respective positions after she had assumed not quite front and center stage but a viewing nonetheless. “A witch?! What bedevilment is this??!!” They studied her from their angles in the half darkness. Since red was involved, some of them wondered if this was the ancient hagg Morgan returned to them, who also goes by Morgaine and other similar words. They shuddered at the thought. They’d all read the legends, good and bad.
She realized they wouldn’t recognize her — in the present — without her beret on. She changed/she turned. The light on her face increased, emphasizing it over the rest. “You!!??” they cried even louder, seeing before them now the white woman associated with raspberries who loves black. “What *is* this??!!” they demanded.
“I am presenting myself to you as I am. One who has been tested for alien powers and abilities. One who is indeed part alien, as witnessed by my pink-ish skin, at least in comparison to you lot. One who has a vertical and a horizontal line up top. One who has a cylinder at the bottom, several in fact. One who has the colorful markings of a modern, because I am also that. I have fish, I have butterflies, I have hearts, I have writing, I have rings and stars, I have designs of odd origin. I am… me.”
This *is* Morgan, some had determined, since the red remained in the lone shoe on her feet, the left and not the right. And they were not wrong.
One also being tested dared to approach her through the mistletoed entrance with luckily a Julia and not a Julian, or else all would be too upset to continue watching and return home to view current black and white reruns of “I Love Lucifer” and such. They danced in complete sync as if on a granite hilltop between two sims. Then the N was regained and all went to hell. The bell was back.
“Let’s meet at your place instead,” past Hucka Doobie determined.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0701, Jeogeot, Lower Austra, Mountain Lake, Newtown+, Omega, Squared Root City-, Sunklands
00300617
It was merely a black and white picture of an unknown town with one somewhat colorful tree. But then it came to life and we were somewhere else. Hermanly again, I would assume.
Yes: Hermanly. Axis-Windmill, who may be the same as Helmet Newton, tries to ignore the increasingly busier burg, knowing he could get sucked into the picture. Like Baker Bloch before him. I mean: Jeffrey Phillips. Man About Time panicked at being thrust into a leadership role, even though he desired it forever. He had to find Baker Bloch (!), but when he did he’d forgotten how he got there and how to get back home. He pointed aimlessly, trying to get his bearings, just like we saw Alysha scramble with in Squared Root City just a minute ago. Alysha had decided to seal off the black and white city in its own little room, handy if needed, but not viewable at any one time. Out of sight out of mind for the most part. Until Helmet was mentioned. It was time for Axis-Windmill to acquire a proper non-hyphenated name. We’ve tried out Brend but then that went to another character — two characters actually, twins, one blue and black and the other red and white. Perhaps live in this same city, even. But Axis-Windmill is not Brend.
The sound of horseless carriages was deafening.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0617, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Squared Root City-, Wild West
00300616
With her kids shoes and grown up hair, Alysha was more red than ever. She even had a red door to her office here near the center of Squared Root City, where I’ve decided to end this particular section of “Collagesity 2020-2021 Winter”. But not the (photo-)novel itself — I don’t think. Haven’t quite made up my mind yet, actually. Anyhoot, we’re back, Alysha is in charge again, *not* Fern Stalin, and ditzy blonde Lichen Roosevelt is merely along for the ride, at least that’s what the other 2 think.
Alysha hangs up the phone. Herbert Glenn Gold is okay — she just wanted to check. April Mae is back in prison over in Collagesity. Good. She speaks to the people present.
“So you see, Lichen, Fern, we’ve been working on three different scripts ever since, well, I guess, since the last director left.”
“That’s *me*,” interjected Fern, still sharp as a tack. “Why are you *there* and I’m *here*?”
“Well, that’s the basic problem,” explained Alysha, the same age and also intelligence as myself, actually. A bit dimmer than Fern, perhaps, but one up on Lichen in that department. If only she had Lichen’s comic timing, though, she often laments. Back to business: “It started — or we picked up on it — with a phone call from this very town — just right over there at one of the coffee shops.” She tries to determine if she can see it from this direction but decides she can’t. Took her just a minute to get her bearings. Fern silently thinks she would know such a detail *before* the meeting started and not embarrass herself with such a thing in the middle. Lichen was thinking of an Abbot and Costello type dialog involving the confusion of “here” and “there”, but she hadn’t gotten very far. Fern can’t wait. She puts forth what she knows.
“So *I* have the blue script, since I’m ahead of everyone else — July apparently. “Then you have the white one in front of you there, Alysha — or you did — anyway, we can collage that in later — then Lichen has red — or pink — to end. Even further back. May.” She turns to Lichen. “May, dearest?”
“W-what?” Costello was about to find out the center fielder’s name was I Don’t Know.
“The date on the script, beautiful. May? April?” Fern then recalls it is actually April and continues with her theories, ignoring Lichen’s fumbling through the pages attempting to determine a date.
Alysha jumps in before the bazooka that is her mind starts firing again. “We are all one.”
“That’s what I was just about to say (!). We are all one core. Wheeler Wendy Wilson.” The full name — Fern *must* be serious, the other two think at the same time. “The 3 faces of Al — Anselmo.”
“Right, right,” Alysha tried again. “Ansel…”
“… also reverberates with Adams the black and white photographer, yes.” Fern with the upper hand again. She rarely loses it. Unless a name like Helmet Newton comes up. Which it did next.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0616, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Squared Root City-
00300615
“She’s coming mum, sire!” called the gardener through the window, having nothing to do now except be a watchdog since there wasn’t a garden in this new location. Only flat plywood covered with a light snow.
“Do you think she found him?” asked Herbert Gold over to his wife, often his partner in crime. The latest theft: “The Blue Panther” by Horace Go Lightly of Spain’s France, prized for its use of cobalt in a thin veneer.
“Doubtful,” replied April Mae Flowers, out on bail from Collagesity jail and thus able to help her hubby with setting up the new house. She just had to have the “Panther”, bail or no bail. She talked her husband into it. As she always could. A team once more, just like Baker Bloch and Wheeler thanks to Nauty. Googling the safest and most efficient way to commit the crime, they bought a fishing pole and lifted it out of a transparent ceiling. Suc-cess!
“She’s pulling in now, sire, mum. She has something in her boat. She has *someone* in her… boat?”
The house never stood a chance.
choices
She was dancing in the center of the taijitu but she didn’t have a pole. Yin and yang halves spun round and round, making her dizzy. making her *ditzy*. They were almost opposite each other. She woke up.
She was blonde.
Oh well. Time to continue the course.
As long as she stays in Crisostomo and doesn’t veer over into Crispell she’ll be on target. Crisp itself.
Ooops (center of sea): *stall*.
In a subsequent dream, a rabbit driving a battymobile drove up to the center and asked her if she needed a ride . Wait — that was reality. Two days ago.
“Need a lift to the meeting, Wheeler?” Baker Bloch was always complaining she was late. This way — not so much.
“Sure.”
“*Hop* in. Get it?”
“Sure.” And she did.
But which meeting in Baker Bloch’s new rental by the Soap Bay Beach did she attend, hmm? It could be spun either way.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0614, Crisp Sea, Kowloon+, Nautilus, Paper, Paper Soap+, Wild West
Sunklands 