Category Archives: Mars^^

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Belt

He was having a dream again of that planet. Totally red, totally rusty. He was looking for Stewart this time, but Stewart had passed on to another realm. The Land of the Living. Because, in the dream, *he* was instead dead, trying to make his way back from, shall we call this Hell? No, Greg Nash Ogden corrected himself while staring around. Too luminescent, he decided, to be that place of anguish and gnashing of teeth. But certainly red like that place. No fire, though. Better wander around while I have my wits.

He eventually stumbles upon the underground base, vast in size.

A robotic weapons factory, at least in part.

But no food. He realizes he might starve down here. To life?

He receives a name on a back wall. Mars.

Greg Ogden wakes up, his mouth dry as desert.

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston^^, Mars^^

return of the Dawg Pound?

“… nice view of Carrcassonnee’s new, blooming tree over at the Temple of TILE. I think this could be our new spot, Other Baker.” He woofed down another delicious piece of Raggedy Ann’s pizza with this. “This — um so good — this new pizza item is the *best*, Baker Blinker.” He takes yet another bite, and talks, still with his mouth pretty full. “Ginger, yum (*chomp*). Just a hint of ginger.”

“How about that table over there, though,” suggests similarly woofing Baker Blinker, not as convinced this was their new spot at Perch. “Better view.” She was at least polite enough to stop eating when she talked.

Baker Bloch glanced over after swallowing. “Too near the door to the place. You know I don’t like sitting in front of the door. *Everyone* can look out on us.” He returns to the pizza and the devouring of it. “Besides (*cut*), Mr. Babyface is over there right now (*bite*).”

“Mr. Babyface has *been* over there. What’s he doing with all those newspapers?”

Baker Blinker’s been glancing over here, thinks Mr. Babyface, paused in his reading. She may report me to the maitre de, gasp, who may tell the owner. Maybe even Perch himself, who sees *everything* anyway.

Oh wait, he suddenly realized, playfully fooling himself. Perch is back in (Carrcassonnee’s) head — not mounted up there above the door any more. Grease stain left behind covered up by a big clock. Oh well. Guess there’s no one around to monitor my voluminous newspaper reading today. Maybe I’ll order another cup of coffee around, say, 3:30-ish.

At 25 after 3, Mr. Babyface spots the odd conjunction that would influence the rest of his life. An ad for a football camp featuring Leroy Kelly, and just below, an ad originating from Steamboat Springs, Colorado.

Steamboat Kelly, he ruminates after reading one then the other. The famous running back who replaced (best running back ever) Jim Brown but also made a (smaller) name for himself. Sat on the bench and bided his time — good for him. Patience pays off.

Trouble was, there was never a *Steamboat* Kelly. Only Leroy — sans nickname. Mr. Babyface had entered an alternate universe where up could be down and Cleveland Browns players, former and present, could be manipulated by a higher power.

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Filed under *Second Life, Lower Austra, Mars^^, Nautilus^^

Home

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December 5, 2016 · 12:54 pm

Escape from Mars

Baker and Old Mabel (yes she’s changed her name as well) begin to head out of Mars and back toward Collagesity to start life anew there. Along the way they land the repaired dog ship at several different spots…

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… including this old mining village named Sandusty about 10 clicks west south west of the Dawg Pound, a place she and her brother have visited a number of times. Old Mabel shows Baker the way down to an underground research station where he, once again, tries to locate Collagesity on a provided globe of Mars (still no luck), while she studies planetary flora and fauna on a station console.

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Next stop: outskirts of Toledo, where Baker and Old Mabel discover the remains of another old timey wrestling structure. Baker remembers this same kind of spiral based building atop a plateau he landed on not long after leaving Collagesity during his trip into Mars. They must be getting closer, he rationalized. Home. Baker Blinker, Karoz Blogger, Hucka Doobie, and the rest. Including Wheeler.

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“The landscape is definitely looking more like the stuff around Collagesity,” he says to Old Mabel as they land at another building, attempting to get directions.

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Turns out it’s a library run by a familiar looking anthropomorphic cat named Chesterton, one suave dude who insists all this is a prop and that the only real book he has is around back. “My robot assistant Evelyn can show you. I hope it satisfies your needs. I apologize for not knowing the whereabouts of your Collagesity.”

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Old Mabel and Baker go around the corner to confront an opened “Big Book of Rust” on a podium, Bill displayed.

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“Chesterton knows,” whispers Old Mabel to Baker. “My liar detector went off as soon as I spotted his spotty face.” Baker nodded his head. He now remembered seeing Chesterton atop a knoll in the desert beyond Collagesity. Raging.

“Keep your cool, honey, and let’s get out of here.”

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Filed under *Second Life, ., Mars^^

INSCO Snapshots

Zombie at ReaktOr.

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Rental apt. scene.

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Rental apt. scene w/ cyberpunk.

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Baker at his short lived receptionist job.

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Blue people.

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Blue cat, blue beam, and hooded man at INSCO Central.

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Baker on a Mars Bench waiting for neighborhood friends Lemon and Sugar.

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Neighborhood piano bar/ watering hole.

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Neurobiologist Dr. Lemon Y. Teepot.

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INSCO South cars.

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INSCO heirarchy.

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32 apt. house.

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Filed under *Second Life, Mars^^

Little

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Cleveland Rocks had forever been the most holy place in the Dawg Pound for Mabel and Little, ever since they were little kids. It harbored the grave of The Host with The Most (alternately: Host Charming), who also heavily haunted the craggy knoll and its receiving bridge. The twins had withheld taking Baker Bloch to the sacred rocks until now because they knew it was all leading up to this finality.

As explained later by Mabel, a ghost of The Host had manifested to Baker as he passed over the bones of Those Who Do Not Rock while walking the bridge, quickly fading. “If he did not approve of your presence here,” Mabel says, “you would be tossed from the bridge by a gale of wind into the ravine below, your skeleton collected and then hung with the others, a *most* unfortunate end.” But the twins had faith in Baker. They knew he would not perish — destiny.

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And yet another manifestation, seeming to say, “Congratulations. You rock!”

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Baker also passed by this fading representation and through the torii gate to join Little on the rocks.

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He did not get up to receive Baker, but simply greeted him by name and motioned to the pillow next to his own in the gazebo.

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Little stared at Baker and then at his own, sneakered feet. “We’ve even named the white butterflies here,” he started. “Big and Old, after our other titles. For you see, my full name is Little Big (as Mabel’s is Old Mabel). I’m about to grow up, Baker Bloch. Oh I didn’t want to. I’ve fought the urge to fight. But it is time. You are here. You must take Mabel as your own. It does not matter whether you are married or not — Mabel would obviously prefer the former — but you must take her. Away from here.”

“I don’t understand,” said Baker Bloch. “What’s happening to you?”

Little held his stare steady now. “I am going to war.”

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As Baker was absorbing this proclamation, a small, silent ship descended from the sky and landed on Cleveland Rocks to their side. Little took a long time to even look in its direction, instead searing thoughts into Baker Bloch’s mind with all the intensity a fledgling soldier could muster. Thoughts of he and Mabel chasing the white butterflies on the rocks and almost falling off not once but several times. Pictures of the compound at different times of the day that he’ll never lose. Visions of happiness for Mabel as she takes on a new life. And then the awful battles to come; obviously he might never make it back here, might never see and hold his beloved twin sister ever again. “Childhood crosses manhood here,” he finally managed, and stood up to enter the ship through a proffered ramp. Mabel called loud from the temple. “NO!! DON’T GO!! LITTLE!!!”

—–

“We had to set childish things aside,” explained Mabel two days later, as they left through the iris door of the Dawg Pound, never to return. “The factions are fighting in several solar systems at once. It’s Whites verses Greens everywhere. Just yesterday, a new battle broke out at Muff-Bermingham. It was only a matter of time before the war caught up with us, found us in our cradled haven. Little had to grow up and become Big, I had to grow up and become Old. Although we are 119 of your years, that is still young for Martians of our species. We had to move onward.” She put her hands to her helmet and cried once again.

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Filed under *Second Life, Mars^^

Mabel

Per instructions from the twins, Baker Bloch slept in Winfield’s old hutch nearer Mabel’s tent than Little’s. The long table within would provide enough room for his almost 6′ 8″ frame to stretch out, they rationalized. (yes, Baker is actually that tall!) Not too surprisingly, Mabel paid a visit in the middle of the night.

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“Baker,” she whispered. “Psssst, Mr. Bloch?” But he was truly fast asleep. It had been a long day. Mabel sat down in the chair next to the table, watching Baker’s sleeping bag move up and down with the rhythm of his breathing. It comforted her. She stayed this way for quite a number of minutes, then tried again to rouse him.

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“Baker Bloch,” she whispered slightly louder this time. Baker mumbled but remained snoozing. “I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable in your quarters here. You’re laying on several plates and 2 small bottles, by the way. That must be slightly discomforting for you.” She grinned.

Another pause. Baker finally woke up by himself. He looked at the wall in front of him, down toward his feet, and then at Mabel, who gave him a start. He wondered what was jabbing him in his rear quarters but realized about the plates, then. Relieved, he sat up.

“Sleeping cocoon okay?” Mable asked, brightening up.

“How long have you been here Mabel?” He rubbed his head.

“About 1/2 an hour I suppose. I just wanted to make sure you were comfortable here and that the arrangement was agreeable for you.”

It was until you woke me up, Baker thought but didn’t speak out loud. “Is Little with you?” He knew he probably wasn’t, but he just wanted to say something to fill the awkward space and give him a bit more time to become alert.

“No, just little old me.” She tilted her head seductively (to her).

“I’ve been wondering about that, Mabel. Why do they call you Old Mabel up in INSCO and your brother refers to you as just Mabel? You don’t look that old… atall.”

“Don’t I? You flatter me. But we’ve calculated we’re 119 years old in your Earth time. I understand that’s pretty old, then.”

“It is!” Baker sat on some kind of shelf opposite her. An aurelia marginalis, a native Martian fauna, floated outside the hutch’s small round window.

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“So how are you both here and there at once?”

“INSCO and here you mean?”

“Yes,” Baker answers.

“INSCO is not where you think. You believe you traveled in your dog ship several days to reach this place. Instead it is directly above us. 3.6K above us, to be exact again. You basically just flew around in circles.”

Baker pondered this, then asked, “did you two sabotage my ship?”

Mabel was direct. “Yes. It was because you couldn’t leave Mars quite yet. Not without me. We learned that quite a long time ago…”

“From Wheeler,” Baker guessed.

“Yes. But not directly. She is able to visit us in time if not in the present.”

Thus the presence of the table in the 32 apartment, Baker understood. Thus the table’s chairs in this place, the Dawg Pound. *She* was the one who gave him his dog ship. “Do you know someone named B-4?” Baker then spoke aloud again.

“Not much time for talk now, Baker Bloch. Walk with me instead. You haven’t seen the beauty of the compound at night.”

So they walked around the compound.

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“Winfield’s Isle,” Mabel said, pointing.

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—–

“Winfield’s Island,” Mabel said again after they had walked up a number of stairs, pointing down this time from a bridge. “What’s wrong with your arm, Baker Bloch?”

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“I don’t know,” he said.

“Oh dear. It could be the anomaly again. We’re standing right over the spot. Well, I’m sure Little will be able to fix you up, whatever it is. May have to reboot you. We better hurry up to the temple, then.”

Mable led him up to the compound’s central temple again, the place with Wheeler’s chairs. They ascended a spiral staircase circling the temple’s walls to an upstairs balcony. Baker then spied Little in the gazebo across Drew Carey Bridge. Daylight was breaking.

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“I’ll take my leave,” Mabel said plainly, and went back to wait inside.

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Filed under *Second Life, Mars^^