Category Archives: Cassandra City

spine line

Huh. The rooster simply is not rezzing in for me. Just the hens (to my right). Better get over to the Horns of Hatton tonight. Or wherever.

Goodbye Cassandra City. Perhaps not for forever. We’ll see. There’s always “Moby Prick”…

—–

But Horns of Hatton, the actually capital city of the South during the Civil War and more in its center, was also laggy. I decided to reboot my computer and start fresh. I returned to my current home base: the big map of the continent — stood on the Primrose sim with primmy rose still in hand and looked west across YOUR SIMS 01 02 03 04 05 06 07. Mentioned by Sweet Alice last night.

The 4th: Sifton, where I met Your Mama on that hill also straddling Kensington (3rd). Got an earful, a tongue lashing. Remembered, through Cassandra City’s secret resident Tracy Austin, that I had my own, pierced tongue. Piercing… pierced. You are what you is.

First some terminology checks. The (Neutral Zone’s) Hills of Bill lie between what, on this big map, I call the Satori Flats to the south and then the similarly termed and constituted Satori Shallows to the north. I realize that this is probably a North-South naming conflict again, like for the continent itself. Southerners preferred Maebaleia, referring more to their famous whale, and then the Northerners favored Satori. Since the North defeated the South in the war (I think), Satori won out. But some stubborn Southerners still refer to it as Maebaleia, and proudly wave their chicken centered battle flags in their yards. Heck, some even drape it over their whole house. But I digress (again)…

—–

I tried to get this straight in my head. I stood on Turtle Hill, the actual one. East was YOUR SIMS (00) 01 02 03.

West: the rest. Turtle Hill, although the most famous (because of the supposed Lemon-Lime treaty signed there, etc.), was actually the shortest of 3 main Hills of Bill. The first actual hill one would encounter while walking west from Primrose, which we’ve accomplished symbolically. Oh there was that somewhat interesting mound just beyond Athlone (in Kensington) where I stood when snapping these 2 earlier shots, the latter while looking west toward where I’m presently positioned. And Athlone is where I entered Real Life Bluefield from this Our Second Lyfe. Think, Marcus. Think! Detective Biff Carter drew his north-south hands together to make a prayer. Church choir saved. Synchronicity! Also with Gunn City, more sadly. And then, and then…

“Hi.” It was Yoko, walking up from behind, surprising me. We exchanged pleasantries — talked about John a bit — then I decided to show her a trick, “Man, that chicken I ate for breakfast just isn’t agreeing with me, BLEH!” *splat*.

—-

I stood alone on the hill after that. Yoko had run away.

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Cassandra


‘”I come here as a representative of the great, honorable Blue Feather Douglas, Marcus Fox Smartville. Who do you represent?”

“Also the forces of good and evil,” Marcus shot back smartly. “Your Mama in my case.”

“*Your* Mama. Good enough I suppose. Anyway, let’s hash out a deal. And I don’t mean drugs.”

“Of course.” Smart again.

“I should apologizes for my protege Eighty-eight not showing up. The astrologer gave her some bad news. Turns out — get this — the stars say she’s an *Aquarius*”.

“Oh.”

“The dreaded sign which seems to be water but is actually air. The most misunderstood of them all. I think the stress opened her up to that flu everyone ’round here seems to be coming down with.”

“You feel okay? Did the breakfast help any? Sometimes when I eat…”

“I didn’t eat,” she protested. “I *nibbled*. The only, real way to a really long life is nibbling. Full stomach foods will get you killed by the age of 88. Unless you’re mowed down by a gun earlier on. Like those people in Gunn City, Missouri, US of A. Now I like a vigilante as much as the next duchess or duke, but I prefer corrections through verbal acerbity rather than, well, steel on bone.”

“I agree. Wholeheartedly. Pen over sword — that kind of thing.”

“The tongue is mightier than the quill,” Tracy Austin (Wheeler Wilson) fleshed out. “Nothing like a good tongue lashing (for corrections). You should know all about that.”

Marcus Fox Smartville sticks out his tongue here, revealing the diamond inlaid steel ring piercing it. “Sthiny,” he says while his tongue is still projecting, also pointing to the object. Not so smart now. Something is actually quite wrong with the male in the current post. He had a breakdown in his early twenties and some say his mind hasn’t quite recovered, and that he’s actually more sucker than smart. Like Sunklands Sucklands sucker, reading patterns (synchronicity) where they don’t exist (randomness). Your Mama thinks this. And, behind her, Grey Scale Kimball, who they needed to talk about next.

“Why didn’t you say you represented Grey Scale Kimball instead?” asked Tracy Austin on cue, indicating the house around them. Grey’s House.

I can answer that. Because Kensington’s Turtle Hill, aka The Green Turtle, had been skipped over. Negotiations concerning the War of Aggressions have moved to Cassandra City in the Deep South, where correct history will always place them. Corrections again… tongue lashing. Your Mama gave Marcus Fox Smartville an earful on that hill. He wonders when the smarting will stop. Not here for certain. Not in this Deep South residence.

(to be continued?)

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back in Cassandra City, then…

“Well here it is. Little Jimmy. The bastard.”

“Over here,” beckoned Keith B. “Wrong car again.”

“Oh.”

“Let’s take a spin!”

“Where to?”

“You know where.”

“The end,” Jim B. mutters to himself while walking toward it, resigned to his fate.

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Bunkie

“We could use the rocket for good instead of evil,” Cindy A. spoke over to Jim A. after straightening her hair. She had recently been influenced by a book she’d been reading. A famous trip to the Moon.

Jim A. laughed at this. Todd A. joined him. Yoko, having done the deed and brought them all together as a sealed, signed triangle, had slithered away again into the web of time with no rosy prognostication in sight.

“2 rockets will do it — we all agree?” It was Todd A. this time, manager of the project.

“We can send the 1st and see what happens,” offered Jim A. “Gauge the reaction before moving forward with the second.”

Cindy A. was getting sick to her stomach. What had she set in motion?

But they had trained for this. It was always going to be. Forward in time, and then backwards in time to the original point. Cassandra City. Home. But the hitherto thought of home  — Pipersville, at least in its original form as Chip Shot: doomed. Worse than doomed.

“How far to be accurate? Would we, say, have to go all the way north to Regaltown to effect the launch?” Todd A. again. “What say you mathematician of the group?”

Jim A. spoke up. “As close to the Neutral Zone as we dare get.”

“How about [delete name],” Cindy A. reluctantly chipped in. The others readily agreed to the future hole. “They had remembered Chip Shot but not their own, retaliatory fate. Much worse it will be for them in the afterlife.

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Brothers Three

Gabby Truth always thought he’d be a good writer if he wasn’t busy gabbing this and that. “Put it down on paper,” his brother Amos often urges. “Stop yapping and start tapping (typewriter keys).” One day he’ll get round to it. And finish reading “Moby Prick”, the great whaling story partially set right here in Cassandra City. “Write a ‘Moby Prick’ yourself,” Amos said upon hearing this desire. “Start *now*.”

So he sits here. Wondering what to put on paper before even inserting the paper. What was the first line of “Moby Prick”? Maybe he can just steal that to start.

—–

But we must get to more urgent matters tonight. Brother Keith is in danger and they know it. Gabby, also a seer as well as a gabber (but apparently not a writer — yet), moves from 1st floor typewriter to 2nd floor fireplace, intending to get more scrying type messages about how to proceed even more forward. They got set up in a swanky Cassandra City apartment thanks to Toppsity connections in town. Keith and daughter Jenny would be joining them later on. The window for information was now. Can’t let Keith know the future else he might damage the threads.

“Well?” his other brother Amos urged after several minutes. “Anything?” Amos was trying to be patient but could see the writing on the wall. Brother Keith could be dead in a matter of days. Maybe even weeks.

Gabby continued staring into the fire. Scrying times were the only times he seemed to be not yammering on about this or that. Maybe he should do it more often, Amos thought. Like: every waking moment. But, in truth, Amos deeply loved his brother — both of ’em. They’d been meaning to visit Keith up in Pipersville for the longest time. Now he had come down South to them. But at what cost?

“Triangle,” Gabby suddenly blurted. “3 A.s.”

“3 A’s?” Amos tried to translate.

“That’s all for now.” Gabby looked away from the fire and toward Amos, wondering what to talk about next. How about the weather.

Amos jumped in first. “We’ll subtly introduce that phrase into our nighttime talks with Keith. See his response.”

“‘Scarlet Triangle,'” blurted Gabby, shaking his head and realizing his powers might be off tonight. “It could be just another book I’ve been meaning to read alongside ‘Moby Prick’. You know, what we were talking about earlier down on the 1st floor. About the novel I always wanted to write.”

“Oh,” said Amos. “Well… it’s worth a try to slip it in still.”

Indeed it was.

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Star

“Well it all just sounds so fascinating Tillie. Seraph Club. Dean Martin!”

“And James Dean the week before. We just missed him!”

Tealy turned to Tillie. “I’m sorry. I know. One of your heroes.”

“Marion, Indiana,” she spoke. “I was there when it happened.”

Tealy pats Tillie’s near hand. “I know.” Tears began falling from her face, splashing onto Tealy’s hand even. She changed.

“But looks like he’s back!” Tealy then encouraged.

“Marion, Ohio this time,” spoke a transformed Tillie, clutching the L$50,000 tight in her his lap.

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Yoko

It was as if the world turned upside down on her. Witchery in Cassandra City. She knew it had to come from Toppsity slightly north, where the elements were all f-ed up thanks to the battles. *She* was a witch. But what did it all mean? She couldn’t remember that crucial bit yet.

Triangle: the triangle must be signed and sealed. That’s where it all starts. One hand on top of another on top of another on top of another…

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