Category Archives: 0046

March 21, 2025 · 7:04 am

00460201 (time reversal)

—–

“Well it’s just beautiful hair, Ms…”

“Wilson,” said Wheeler. “Wheeler Wilson.”

“Like the dams, then,” responded stylist Sep to this.

“And the Vice-Presidents, ha (!).”

“Oh yes, that too,” said Sep, barely remembering the latter fact from her “1800s Sex/History Education” elective humanities class taken over at the local college along with all the cosmetology ones needed for that associate degree. “Soo… what’ll it be today?” Marveling Sep was thinking while continuing to wash: I personally wouldn’t change a thing if I had such luxurious locks.

“Chop it all off (internal gasp from Sep?). Dye it pink. In *short*, I want the Butterfly. Number 25. I saw it on your ad.”

“Oh, *very* popular. All the Butterflies are selling well currently. Must be the Spring in the air. Time of transformation,” she waxed philosophically. “Change.” Washing done now, Wheeler sits up as Sep begins to towel her dry.

“Indeed.” This long hair Magika style is for the winter, Wheeler thinks. She wants her scalp to breathe now. Sunlight; warmth. And… a new man. Who is the same as the old man. Old Man Newt, ha, distinctive in his growing greyness. Will meet him next. Under the parrots, or as close as they could get.

—–

“What do you think?”

“Perfect.” But while saying this she was looking at the reflection of the guy in the next chair over instead of her own. So familiar. Where had she seen him before? And why was he just sitting there instead of getting his own hair cut or styled? Queer.

(to be continued)

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March 20, 2025 · 2:47 pm

00460116

“Fog’s lifting a bit,” he offered in the silence, she trying still to figure out the fingering on the harp piece she wanted to play. And she didn’t want to seem like an amateur while warming up. Thus the quiet except for the nearby low roar of the backwards positioned waterfall. “Well?” he then said. “What are you, I mean, what are you and Newt going to do?” It was obvious to him that they should stay in the area, this Nawt Vaya inland sea of the Jeogeot continent in the world of Our Second Lyfe. *Their* Second Lyfe. Hopefully still.

“We’re meeting at the parrots today to talk about it. I’m just going to admit everything. You — not Art, because he doesn’t seem to be involved.”

“The hubby.” Ed liked Art but didn’t love Art. Good thing.

“Yeah, the true one, the Whitehead in Da Woods. I guess I should express remorse or something.”

“Naaah,” responded Ed.

“Thinking along the same lines,” she admitted. What they had was good. It was just something to pass the time, mostly the late afternoon of each of April May’s days. And she knew she was irrisistable, ha. Especially since she’s ditched the child part from top and bottom. Wheeler she is again, without trapped-in-the-past Shelley. She and Newt remain childless in this reality. The reality of Nawt Vaya. Almost time to make a decision on that.

—–

She gets her ass up from the writing desk and moves toward the door, relieved it remains unlocked as she nervously tests the knob. She is still free to leave this place.

(to be continued)

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March 20, 2025 · 7:50 am

00460115

Turns out, it was harder to shake at least Ed than she figured. Art she hadn’t tried out. They talk about it afterwards in their temporary home beside the still pouring waterfall, mission to the nearby inland sea unfulfilled and perhaps unfulfillable given the flow away from it instead of toward. This acted not like a real falls, in other words. “So, what’s the status?” Ed wanted to know. “Am I in or am I out?”

“Both,” she jested. “For now.”

The waterfall drowned out the rest of their conversation this morning, but little words remained.

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March 19, 2025 · 3:56 am

00460114

“Maker Space, Jack. And the Princess said Bimbo should be coming along soon. She’s working on it, she said.”

“I-I don’t like it as much as the old treehouse, Fink. Not as much room. A-and I don’t have all my stuff.”

“Princess said she’s working on that too.”

“Like: Who’s that old f-ck suppose to be up on the mantel place.”

“Jack!” reprimanded Jack’s human bro and bestie Fink about the cussing, but then started wondering too as he also stared at the aged, bearded man in the photograph…

…. who, in turn, stared at two books from his framed existence, each containing a 1000 pictures of the world around them, this Our Second Lyfe that has suddenly become Their Second Lyfe as well. Orders of Pinky Gumm.

“I mean… I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, pheh,” then said resigned Jack, knowing the Princess had a plan. She always did.

(to be continued)

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March 17, 2025 · 6:39 am

00460113 (letting the butterflies loose)

https://bakerbloch.com/2022/07/30/00340113/

—–

“Soo, why are we back here again, Jack? Pink again?”

“Yeah,” responds Jack the Dogg, his 1/2 brother and also bestest friend in the world. Unless it’s Todd. “And you know what that means?”

“Errr,” went Fink, once more sloow to catch on.

—–

15 minutes later, after earning another F- on the new quiz.

“I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy!”

You certainly aren’t, thinks the newest iteration of Princess Pinky Gumm in Our Second Lyfe dominating above him but, of course, biting her tongue. Fink remains a powerful ally. And friend.

Now to deal with Art and Ed, she thinks; break the bad news to the duo so use to having their way up to this point. The buck stops here.

She looks to the sky and thinks of all the power she has. 319.

(to be continued)

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March 14, 2025 · 3:16 pm

00460112

“Oh, and I also saw Hashima Island.”

“Where? Where??”

“No, silly. Not out *there*. In Japan. What’s out *there*?”

“Nothing I suppose,” Girtle replied to Wamshed, just back from an expensive, extensive trip to the Orient, with 3 continents taken in. But Hashima stood out for her. Ghost island. Bestie Girtle kept staring and staring above the pier just beyond the Night City Marina where they were eating breakfast and catching up with each other, thinking something would appear in the sun glared sky. Why would she think that? she wonders, and then returns her attention to her food and drink and conversation, thinking nothing more of the matter that day in April’s May.

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March 14, 2025 · 2:23 pm

00460111

What are both Trump and Biden, the two latest presidents of these here present day United States, doing in downtown Night City ads almost a half century into the future? Probably an ad mod to the Cyberpunk 2077 game, I’m guessing, with the BD maker Lincoln having yet another US president’s name you’ll notice, hmm.

Just beyond the Biden ad pictured above we have equal amounts of red and blue pills all mixed up together in a storefront window. Democrats (Biden/blue) and Republicans (Trump/red)? Our US of A country split up to the detriment of both, I further speculate. Leading us to this here dystopian future, a game. So far.

Lincoln might know. He was shiny and new like a freshly coined penny in this BD, his first in the city. We will most likely return to him. No cents not to.

(to be continued)

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March 11, 2025 · 2:11 pm

00460110

—–

“There there, what’s the problem? Why are you crying?”

“I-I’ve lost my car key! (sob!) I don’t know how I’ll ever get back to my apartment without walking through a dangerous stretch (sniff) of town. My AAA membership has just run out,” she explained further. “Aa-and the taxi strike.”

“Calm down,” I say. “Tell me what happened.”

She pointed over the rail. “Down there. In the water (sob sob!). I was just reaching into my pocket for my phone… I shouldn’t have had my key out. I don’t know what I was doing! (sniff sniff sniff)”

“Okay, just relax. I’ll go get it.”

—–

—–

“Oh thank you SOO much! You’re a life saver… literally. I could have been murdered going home through those streets. And worse!

“Here. Let me give you something.”

“Just the bright smile on your face is reward enough, thanks,” I say to this.

“I insist. 500 eddies okay?”

—–

You’re a middle person, I think while walking up and checking the time on a fresh video (BD). Like the Gimp before. Like the Wellsprings monks more recently. “Hi,” I say to her. “Remember me?”

She turned to face me squarely. “Get away from me you creep,” she exuded with some venom, then returned to her phone. NPC, I think. Memories don’t continue from video to video, perhaps from within the same video.

“Down at the end of the pier. Remember?” I tried again, making her start tapping rapidly on her phone.

“Calling the police. NOW.”

“Okay, okay.” And I walked away. Back toward the pier, peering over it to see if I can catch another glimpse of that rock island. Something very important about it. Ghost.

(to be continued)

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March 10, 2025 · 7:44 am

00460109 (Sunamai T-shirt Boy (STB))

“I see you’re looking for something out in the bay.

“Well, so am I.”

“Pray tell what? A rock? That’s long gone. To get that kind of rock you’ll have to go to classic rock on the Morro Rock station. Run by Carolin. You know Carolin.”

“No.”

“Oh sure you do. Last photo-novel.”

“H-how–”

“Do I know? Because I’m *you*.”

—–

“Let me demonstrate (follow me).

“Middle again… that’s me — you — again. Just a head at first as the other me passes out of the scene.

“Then full on, another smoker. Smoking good looks wouldn’t you agree?

“And then, coming up behind me again, I pass the monks…

“… and come straight up beside yet another me. ‘You!’ I say. Exclamation point.

“I thank you for finishing my art in the park. I — we — can move on.”

(to be continued)

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March 7, 2025 · 3:54 pm

00460108 (319)

That’ll be 4 bucks please,” said ramen shop attendant Jacwylin, extending her hand with the bill for the bills. She was also the manager of this small cyperpunk type shop, if it wasn’t Tammy (pause). No, I checked. Tammy isn’t projected to be in this here photo-novel, 46 in a series. So this remains Jacwylin. “You know,” she begins again, name settled on and free to dwell in the past now, “Blue Moon Kentucky sat on that very seat, ordered that very meal. Blue like you too.” She scrutinized the face more closely. “Nah,” she begged off. “You’re not her.”

“Of course I’m not her,” said the blue clad woman back. Still working for the Horns, the big bosses, although the boss boss Edward was the only one still around. Who was now also her boyfriend. Luckily for her, he doesn’t have a cleanliness obsession. He doesn’t mind a little dirty. “But,” she reconsidered, “that’s an interesting story, worth a follow up statement.” There. I just did it. Would she get the joke?

“Ha ha,” she started after a significant enough pause. “Hu hu hu, good one.” She got it. “But, *anyway*, Blue Moon… do you like her music? Do you prefer the Cracks or do you prefer her solo work? Some do.” She withheld the “like me,” part. Wanted to get the other’s opinion first.

“I’ve heard of ‘Keep on Shining.'”

“Yes yes. Good one.” Maybe a solo lover. Like herself. She’ll keep patient.

“And, let’s see, the one about suicide is certainly interesting. Can’t recall the name of that.”

Jacwylin couldn’t either in the moment. Oh yes, she thought. “Elvis Esley.” Or Isley — she couldn’t remember if the last name of the single started with an E or an I, our first mandela effect in this here post (pause). I checked to make sure and, yes, it is so. The name Tammy remains a mistake and not an alternate reality.

(to be continued)

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