Chroma was the last to emerge. Gregg, but without the extra “g.” The old Lapara question “Who’s ‘G’?” may have been answered.
Category Archives: Second Life
“Bucket of nails,” requests Wilson to Terry. “And make it bloody.”
“Ahem,” intercedes Baker Bloch. “Not open yet, Wilson. Sorry.”
“Yeah, sorry,” echoes Terry. He tries to size up his new potential customer, but can’t quite make out what’s the deal-i-o. Baker helps.
“So you’re a man again,” he states to Wilson.
“Yeah. A pretty man. Let me show you. You haven’t seen yet.”
“Just a glimpse at the police station. How’s Burt the Cop doing?”
“Brutus?” replies Wilson. “Prostitute problems as usual. Gastons’s filled with them, even choking on them. Berries. Cherry, Raspberry, Blueberry. Lemon. Yes, Berry is fully intertwined with Gaston. You knew Lemon on Mars didn’t you?”
“I did,” states Baker, thinking back fondly to his stay in futuristic INSCO. “Have you seen her? She ran around with Sugar then, but wasn’t a prostitute (like her) at the time. Circumstances must have changed. Science is getting tough to swallow for many.”
“I’m not sure she’s really a whore there,” says Wilson. “She could be undercover. Brutus hinted at so much. Purple Gang. Burt Lake Band. Crooked.”
“Oden, then,” responds Baker.
“Yeah. Have you seen him?”
“Maybe a glimpse as well at Morrison. Rockabilly Cafe. But we’re done filming there.” He pauses. “And you haven’t shown me the new face yet.”
“That’s way too pretty, man,” Baker offers. “For a man. How about a scar? What do you think Terry?”
“Terry. I’m glad you’re here already.”
“Yup. Mr. R. sent me ahead to set up the place, make sure all the correct drinks are loaded up, (and) so on. We’re playing cards later tonight. On the clock, of course.”
“Of course,” Baker Bloch responds.
“Sorry we don’t quite have our license nailed down in Minoa yet,” the green fire-ickle states.
“Perfectly all right. Just checking to see how things were going.”
“Mr. R. should be here by the end of the month, first of next month at the latest, Mr. Bloch.”
“Mr. Baker. Mr. B.” Terry emits that cool clicking sound with his mouth again and points. Baker is a bit smitten himself. Such a groovy dude.
“Norum,” Wilson Wheeler says. “This is the place.”
“And there is the man.”
Looks like some big ta’doin’s going on at Chelsea for the Halloween season, but Baker feels it’s not his place to go down and investigate. He’s for all practical purposes banned from the Sister sim of VHC City, if not physically then psychologically and philosophically, he feels. He allied himself with alter-ego and ancient town vampire Pitch Darkly and is now suffering the consequences. Fellow former VHC City vampire Buster Damm cannot return either, but has less of a desire to do so. Pitch wants to come back; enjoy the alternate reality where his “Pitch Black” property was not absorbed by the Finely Torn Id and he still has a central place in town and can pick the brain and borrow the ear of Chelsea leader Sikul Himakt about developments in those directions (psychological/ philosophical). But it’s not going to happen. The Diagonal has power still, yes. Rubi and Sister are still definitely sister sims, united by the triple numbers 97/97/97 in past/present/future. All’s Baker and me can do is focus on what we have, what we know. 97/97/97 is no longer present in VHC City. If it *would* return, if the power of the triple numbers and the attached Diagonal were known, then a link could return. But there’s always fiction for it. 🙂
Woody may have discovered or remembered an important detail related to this. Let’s have Baker Bloch tonight quickly change into that character instead of Pitch or something else…
… and send him over to the very center of the Purden sim, with the “show interface” option checked off on the snapshot.
Sentient tree Core-Alena should be here, true, but it’s only Woody tonight. He ponders on the absence, and then notices that he’s at 128/128/127, very close to the theoretical lone triple number of the sim. Or are there maybe even other triple numbers here? It’s worth a check… lemme turn on the sun and have Woody walk around and I’ll get back to ya’ll on this.
First off, Baker-as-Woody finds it more difficult to walk The Diagonal in Purden than Rubi because all the *trees* seem to be exactly the same. In this way, Purden, although containing many more trees than Rubi overall (I think I estimated about 5 times the amount at one time), is a simpler, perhaps more primitive sim. Core-Alena stands out from all this same-ness more than kindred walky talky tree Unch does in his own Linden woods. Back to Woody’s walk…
Okay, Woody can definitely stand at coordinates 127/127/127, and my guess is that this may be the true triple number of the sim. But so close to the center that it’s most likely a practical equivalent. Or centre, as Woody likes to spell it for a reason. He’s thinking of psychologist/philosopher
Phillip Jeffries Jeffrie Phillips right now.
He’s heading uphill for a little bit beyond this. Definitely possibilities for another triple number, maybe even several…
But in subsequently walking up to the crest, Woody realizes that’s it’s simply not high enough, and that another triple number wouldn’t be reached in the sim. He gives Purden up for the night and teleports over to Jaffee instead, right on the edge but not within the Purden forest. This is the place where he once lived in an a-frame, as chronicled in “Collagesity 2016-2017 Winter” (Part 6). But now we have two places named “Still” there instead. They’re even marked on the inworld map…
Strange. The word “Still” has now been erased in Jaffee (!). It was just there the other night when Woody joined the rest of the Blackstars at a rehearsal in “Still Dead”. But there is — or *were* — two “Stills”, as mentioned, with “Still Alive” joining “Still Dead” to make a logical yin-yang sky box tandem.
Hmm, a new house on his old land. And this Blackbook person perhaps within, the owner of “Still Dead” Woody talked to just about a week back. He doesn’t desire avatar interaction tonight, however, and decides to teleport elsewhere. Home will do presently. Collagesity, yes. This is indeed home now. And right on the western edge of another, parallel woods. Perfect for him.
Good thing Woody didn’t use remote viewing while there to look within. Bert the Semi-Nudist! (his old love)
“You’re back Clyde.”
“Yes, Richard,” answers the pink lady-elephant. “But it’s Bonnie.”
“Where’s Gregg?” asks Richard.
“You mean Stan? He said he was on his way. What are you guys up to tonight?”
“Nothing. Heard you got a new band Clyde.”
Bonnie shakes her head. “*Howard* has a new band. That’s my twin brother. They call themselves Leona, yes. Just rehearsing so far, I’ve heard.”
“Blackstars,” says Ziffie the smaller pink elephant on the bar stool to Richard’s left.
“What was that?” Richard asks down to him.
“The name of the band,” Ziffie explains, “is now Blackstars. I think it’s a David Bowie tribute band, but Garson sued and put them in their place.”
“Who’s Garson?” asked the man in the scary rabbit costume.
“Former Bowie keyboardist. ‘Alladin Sane’, ‘Outside’… list goes on.”
“But mainly ‘Alladin Sane’,” pipes up Ziffie again.
“Yes,” agrees Bonnie. “More the (title) song and not the album.”
“Improvisor,” inserts Ziffie.
“Right you are, cousin. Three time’s the charm.”
Stan comes strolling into the cafe.
“What’s up homies?”
“Blackstars,” says Bonnie.
“Blackstars,” Ziffie quickly follows.
Bonnie and Ziffie stare at Richard, pressuring him. He relents. “Hmmm. Blackstars I suppose.”
“Cool. Let’s you and me, Richard, go see the new crop of dead people over at Pervimus’ Gathering Bar.”
Instead of answering, Richard goes up and smells Stan. “That a new perfume, honey?”
Basically like clockwork, Earie passes Jiff’s abode a couple minutes beyond total darkness. 7:30 tonight, but winter is coming and the days are getting shorter. Tomorrow he should pass at approximately 7:29, the next day 7:28, and so on until time turns around or he leaves the sim. One day Jiff will follow the punk to see where he goes, but right now he needs to get some sleep. Jiff’s usually in bed by about 8 and rises around 6. Sometimes he even sees Earie pass the other way. Then it’s off to work at the Gaston-Berry Police Station as staff psychiatrist. A new and troubled male inmate has just arrived who goes by the name of Wilson. Pretty face, though. Maybe that’s the screw’s turn, Jiff ponders, knowing other information. Maybe this town demands too much from its citizens.
After The Blackstars’ latest jam session, lead singer Improvio and drummer Woody Woodmanson hung back in the sky island to chat about the band’s future. Howard, Pretty Man, and Sheriff had all headed to the Ear Bar down in Soho.
“Well Woody,” began Improvio. “You said you had something to talk about. I think it went pretty well tonight. Band’s pretty tight. I had worries about Pretty Man especially but it’s all shaping up. Pretty Man’s not just another pretty face but has real talent at the keyboards.”
“*Howard* was on the keyboards tonight. Not Pretty Man. You need to turn around and acknowledge the band now and then.” Woody was in an unusually pissy mood tonight. The rehearsal didn’t go as well for him as it did for Improvio.
The blue lead singer tried to assuage his wood toy drummer. He changed the subject for a moment. “Tell you what, why don’t you take me down to the center of the Purden Woods tonight and show me this Core-Alena tree you’ve been on about. How about that?”
But Woody would not be deterred. “Here’s my thing,” he said, continuing the mood. “Sure we can jam and jam and jam until we toast ourselves to death. But it’s all spinning wheels and slinging mud. Nothing’s *written down*. Jam, jam, jam,” he said again. “We need…”
“No,” broke off Improvio. “I’m not going back to Gaston and interact with those other two.”
Woody stopped walking on the log and hopped off, holding his brightening key in front of him.
“I’m getting a message from the Great Cheese,” he spoke solemnly. There was a small pause, then: “Yes, you must return to Gaston. But it’s not Gaston, it’s *Garson*.”
“What?” exclaimed Improvio, as he turned to see what Woody was transfixed by. A large, bald man with queerly tilted head had appeared on the edge of the sky island.
He steps further…
“Alright I’ll go back Woody,” proclaims a totally spooked Improvio.