Bill (Wheeler) came back to Collagesity to retrieve some tweezers and got chills while standing in front of the town library and staring at this view down Old Cannon Road toward the Rubi Woods.
Time to head home again, Buurb thinks.
The sim changes the man in this case. Or makes a boy into a man, as it were.
And not being 13 certainly had its advantages.
“I wonder what’s behind the starred man on the striped couch?” asks Hucka Doobie about the most recently hung Bodega Gallery collage, killing some time while waiting for The Table meeting to start over at the Blue Feather.
From behind, thought-to-be friend Tammy Whatammy then pushes the bee person *into this collage*…
Mr. Babyface had fallen asleep again studying the Big E on the top floor of his Collagesity apartment. Awoken by a large thud, he quickly turned over while remaining in his sprawled position and peered into the higher stories of the Kidd Tower — the same view he was looking at when he dozed off.
Everything as before, pheh, he thinks. Depictions of the Jeogeot Gulf sims representing the letters A-L on the east side and O-Z to the west remained intact. The missing M and N at the top: MaN. What it all spelled out, he realized, was another boring day in Collagesity for The Face (himself). But what about the thud?
Then in sitting up and turning around from the table, Mr. Babyface saw something totally unexpected. He jumped out of his chair. A familiar Middletown skyscraper loomed just beyond his window!
“Holy Jesus!” he exclaimed, toking rapidly on his still lit pipe. “The Kidd really did it this time. The tower is truly and fully *there*. But there is here!” And he knew this meant the The Kidd would in all likelihood be sitting in her beige chair on the floor below his apartment, in what use to be Greg Ogden’s spot. But maybe Greg has returned too. He better get down there posthaste.
200 feet above all this, Tronesisia heads to the top-of-the-line Italian refrigerator to retrieve another of those strong German beers (Brewmeister’s Quarterly).
But in glancing outside the window to her right, she saw the tower too! All the old, repressed memories came flooding back with the sight: Pitch and Buster’s killing shack across the tracks; Bendy heading to Muff-Bermingham in the Collagesity rocket Karoz built and her attempts to follow him; Mary’s pregnancy with George. And she’d been wasting all her time wallowing in the idiotic glories of war! Axis and Allies, phmph. There never was a war, she realized. She had been sleepwalking all along.
Fully awake now, she locates the red phone hidden behind the bed that would connect her directly with Baker Bloch. She remembered that piece of the puzzle too. “Call me when the transference happens,” he said while handing it to her over 2 months back. “You won’t remember me again until then. Nor I you. Good luck!”
The phone rings in Baker Bloch’s back pocket. “Excuse me, everyone,” he says, turning slightly red. He never seems to get calls any more and simply forgot to turn it off before The Table meeting. “I’ll just take this over to Perch…”
Tin S. Man smiles broadly as Baker walks past, and Wheeler catches it. “What are you up to giant?” she queries, scrutinizing him. “Besides the 20 foot mark, I mean. Why hasn’t Hucka Doobie shown up yet?”
In thinking how the sentence “Why hasn’t Hucka Doobie shown up yet?” translates to German, Wheeler then realizes who must be on the phone.
“Well, okay we’re still waiting for Hucka Doobie to show up. Let’s just read some of Baker Bloch’s — Baker *B*’s writing at the time.” Wheeler Wilson starts reading from the screen. “‘Continue to view Pumpkin Twisters at least once a day, usually twice a day.’ — this was before you adopted the compound word title, hmm –.”
“I guess so,” Baker Bloch replies from across The Table. “My user, you mean.”
“‘Very addictive,'” she continues quoting, “‘but this is the pattern for all my synchs. After a week or three, I’ll get tired of this constant viewing and move on to another project. But right now I’m still dominated by PT’. Um… ‘Keep thinking about how I can continue to further the field, new movies to try, new albums, new techniques and tricks of tiling a synch, theorizing about the process of tiling itself and expansion into other hypothetical synchy arts.’ So that’s the beginning, Baker… guys. Should I just spot-read more ‘Pumpkintwisters’ related stuff in ‘Apple’, Baker?”
“Let’s see, then just down the page: ‘The only synch where 2 movies, not 1, is used, is Pumpkin Twisters, definitely a unique quality for it. This actually also occurs in Kansas City Life, a direct predecessor of sorts for PT, but I consider this earlier synch to be a more minor work than all others listed here.'” She looks over at Baker Bloch. “Do you want to explain ‘Kansas City Life’ to the group, then?”
“Not really… go on…”
“Okay.” Wheeler Wilson scrolls down. “Lot’s of stuff about *other* synchs here…” She continues to scroll. “All right: ‘I’ve talked quite a bit about the structure of my finds so far, but one could go much further in this. I’ve only talked about it in terms of tiles and tiling. It would be interesting, for example, to study the perceived *centers* of synchs. For Pumpkin Twisters, to give an example, the obvious center is the selection from the secondary movie 200 Motels, overlapped with 2 tracks from the Kinks’ Preservation Act 2, and this is also the place where the synch is most obviously [quote unquote] “synchy”, or, in other words, there is an obvious match or synchronization going on here. The center of Billfork is the ark scenes and the aforementioned — in the last post — heavy *video* editing in this center…'” Here Wheeler Wilson stops and turns away from the media feed. “Ahh, I think we’ve read enough of your old writing, Baker Bloch. Time for the new. Are you ready Tin S. Man?” She takes her customary seat at The Table.
“Ready, Wheeler Wilson,” the gentle giant replies. He has become his much larger self since returning to Collagesity from Gaeta V. Glad he was about leaving that bland land. But Wheeler insisted mistress Tronesisia had to remain behind. Soon enough they would reunite, he knew. Very soon.
“We’ll give Hucka Doobie about 5 minutes more, then.”
Marion Harding openly admitted to having a thing about trees. Here we see him climbing up the ladder into a treehouse he’s fancied recently. The owners of the main house on the property were never around, it seemed. And there was a gas station nearby which provided a small bathroom and also a bed for his more basic needs. Then there was the nice view of *the* tree.
Most Ancient One (MOA) was the most impressive thing in Capitol City to Marion. “Nothing like this in your South Yankton,” he told Philip Strevor the other day while petting its massive trunk. This is Gaeta V, *not* GTA V. And while bland and boring overall yes, there are still advantages.” He started to mention Heidi as well, but didn’t want to get Philip thinking along those lines again — about “retirement” in this Muff-Bermingham run by that tall, pale dame he’s described. The heist should be the main focus now. That’s what they were meeting about at the tree’s base. For even Philip knew the huge old growth had authentic power. Power to expose and power to hide. Whatever was in the hearts of men at the moment. And, through knowledge gleaned from his wacky weed and attached fantasy friends, Marion understood how to harness it.
They’d left the kid at the playground in the snowier part of town. George was looking after her. George swears up and down that he’s 13 and not the 10 or so he appears to be. And, anyway, both Marion and Philip knew that Heidi Hunt Ives could take care of herself for sure. It’s just the *impression* of caretakers they were after. Part of the cover.
Anson. He’d received the name from The Oracle that is The Tree. An auto, a *bug*, stolen and then stolen again. Formerly buried in the sand at the wrecked ship just north of Fae’s Boat House by Tom the Booker — Tom Booker — now deceased and buried himself somewhere in the eastern reaches of Corsica Prime. Car thieving was his livelihood. But this theft was special. Because there was something stashed in the exhaust system he didn’t know about. A 50,000 linden reward issued by the Purple Gang of the Black Lake District alerted him to the situation. Then the kid plugged her own ultra valuable information into the equation. This is *the bug* she stated more than once she was working on, beyond the old and middle aged women, beyond even the poodle. Not an insect, but at the same time, yes an insect, she cryptically claimed. A philosopher’s stone she termed it for him.
This is why he decided to bring her into their fold in the first place. The bug. And she claimed to have the power to know exactly where it was at any one time. And it would continue to get stolen, again and again. The money would keep roll’n in.
“We’re gonna drive this car all the way to ‘Pumpkintwisters’ this time, Jackie.”
“Shut up and get starting.”