“He’s gone. Our leader is gone. What do we do now?” Archibald Duke had just spoken 10 times as many words as he’d ever said before.
“I’m going to explore more of the BEH dimensions,” offered Dollie quickly in her high, thin voice.
“I’m going to go hop around that nice creek behind the lodge,” added Piper in his deep, masculine tone.
“Hmm,” said Archibald, looking at both of them. “Suppose I *could* go to this Black Lake I’ve heard so much about now. Fish for demons.”
Jennifer M. Friend woke up, went to the main room, looked around. “Hmph. Where’d everybody go?”
I’m not going back to the MISTY MO lodge, Roger Pine Ridge realized while standing on the bridge looking east toward it. I’m going to go on the long walk and play with more forms. Like this little, yellow clad girl, perhaps Jennifer M. Friend herself when she was a child. Probably not, but…
Or how about Wanda the Minoan, fitting in with the yellow theme again? But maybe I’ve got enough wee ones already — Piper and Dollie.
Interesting. I forgot I had both a Cyberdoll and a Paperdoll form that I mashed together to create Cyberpaperdoll, one of my better creations, along with similarly mashed together Roger Pine Ridge.
A good couple they are. Too bad it didn’t work out. Thanks to Bandit Boy, hehe…
But I suppose I should just keep Allen Yellow as my primary avatar for now: Allen Y. He’s got a nifty backpack for storing tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches and lemon tea for the trip, along with extra shoes and a change of clothes. He’s got a helmet for when the atmosphere gets too hard to breathe again, along with an additional set of eyes for long distance viewing.
“Does he not get the irony?” observing Baker Bloch spoke back in Collagesity. “Golden sphere… frog eyes… and that’s why Piper the *frog* was sent to MISTY MO in the first place, along with Tropp.”
“Golden sphere, yes,” echoed Wheeler, thinking back.
Goodbye lodge. Goodbye mystic nut Norm or Bob. So long old and withered Johnny Appleseed tree. See ya Black Lake on the northeast corner, the one Jennifer saw Demo written all over. Under. Too much more to see.
He sets out for parts already partially known but with big hunks yet to be explored. 1/2 and 1/2.
“Look Allen Y. Dolphins doing tricks (!). Marvelous.”
On a different part of the pier, Allen Y. remained disappointed.
“Why are we *here*? And not there or there?” He pointed southwest and northeast respectively here.
“I told you. We have to move to the center for perspective because we’re in the center of Part 4 of the new Collagesity novel, Allen Y. This is Grey Havens, and, as I checked, certainly a haven from the grey, corner sims we’ve been focused on so far: MISTY MO and Gulf of Loon. Look at your inworld map and you’ll see.”
“I’m tired of seeing,” he spoke plainly. “Everything is too clear to me now. I’ve seen the writing on the bottom.”
“Oh come on,” encouraged Jennifer M. Friend, still squinting at the receding dolphins while thinking of the 2 hearts as one dealie he reviewed earlier. Not going to happen here. But the Chee Chee…
He thought back. “I see one heart over here, and then another smaller heart over there.” He pointed to the gap. “Can this be filled?” But she was facing the other way and could not see. The Black Lake obscures. A little later he decided earrings at the Calas market would send a correct message. To add to the roses; he couldn’t help himself.
“I simply love the flowers… and the earrings, Allen Y.,” delivered Jennifer M. Friend in resonance with his thoughts. “One over here and the other over there.” She though of each ear respectively. “Just like I like them.”
“So you’ve said.” He sighs again.
1933 -Black-Clear Lake was formed by the construction of the Allen Dam across Saline Bayou downstream of its confluence with Black Bayou. Prior to that time, there existed a chain of three swampy areas known as Black Lake, Clear Lake and the Prairie. The Allen Dam inundated all three of these areas and formed what is now Black-Clear Lake, known locally as Black Lake. Construction of the Allen Dam also created Saline Lake and water levels in both lakes were regulated in unison….
1959 -The Chee Chee Dam was constructed and served to separate Saline Lake from Black-Clear Lake.
1981 –The Allen Dam failed and was washed away
“I will not fail in my mission,” thought Allen Y., at a Calas flower kiosk with a just purchased bouquet of fresh and lovely purple roses. “I *will* win her heart.”
“He will fail,” spoke observing Baker Bloch back at the Blue Feather Table.
“Yes,” answered Wheeler beside him. “The water obscures, the water clears. Bottom-writing is revealed. All demos down there.”
“Demons,” spoke Baker Bloch. “You forgot the ‘n’.”
“I didn’t forget nothing” retorts the co-ruler of Collagesity. She settles back in her chair, pulls out some chew and sticks it in her mouth. “But first a little Chee Chee,” she delivered from an open, masticating void.
They talked far into the night. No mention of Bauer again, as stated. About 10 Roger Pine Ridge showed up as well. He kept glancing over at his old flame Cyberpaperdoll (who arrived about 7:30) but saying nothing.
11:15. His last Chesterfield was now half smoked. Perhaps time to pull out one of his special cigarettes; start seeing things in the middle of the night again. Sea monsters this time, perhaps. The white stick light tells truths to be beholding to. Behold… beholding. Beh.
“Beh,” he uttered over to Cyberpaperdoll. “Beeeeeehhhhh.”
“I’ll defend you Dollie.”
“What are we looking at?” she queried Randy Big Cat in her meek voice. So feminine and thin.
“Pirates of course! *Other* pirates.”
“Of course.” But it didn’t look like any pirate she’d beheld.
She kept tripping the light fantastic. White stick light. Giant bunnies were good and cool. She wanted more. But Ruby’s Democratic Empire sim remained empty. It was only a stage, a set, good to go for Collagesity novel 10 but then discarded and emptied just after. *Had* to be a set. And now connected with beh. All sims starting with beh, especially their center (128/128). Try it for yourself. You’ll see.
Dollie in the
dollhouse doghouse again, snooping around.
She pretended this improptu gathering of cubes also in central Behemoth was a meeting of the selves again. “You,” she barked as much as possible with her unbarky voice. “Over there. The black, silent one. Time to *speak*.”
Eventually she fell asleep on its southern side after taking yet another form. Smoking.
Allen Y. decided that the whole gang of his selves should meet afterwards to discuss Treelor, Tropp, a lot of things actually. Facelight remained off. Facelight doesn’t work in a Gang of Selves photo. He decided today that Archibald Duke should speak his first words. “I’ve seen you in The Waste, Archie — can I call you Archie?” No answer (yet). “I’ll call you Archie, then. But I remember you lurking around the Throne of Bauer or the Bauer Throne — whatever — maybe even sitting on it. Yeah, I remember you perched under the ruined purple or black parasol.”
“Black”, spoke Archie, his first word.
Allen Y. nodded approvingly. “Good. Good first word, good one.” But Allen Y. then clearly remembered that the umbrella in question was purple. This was instead an opening into something deeper. A sea with mysterious bottom-writing. Something about demons.
“Black,” Archie repeated.
No other mention of Bauer was spoken that day.
“So tell me about this Treelor of yours,” Allen Y. requested, a bit of bitterness mixed in with his phrasing.
“He’s nice,” Jennifer M. Friend responded with her usual, confident voice. “He’s innocent. He’s… Tropp, actually. I always forget that too. *I’m* Treelor.” She pauses a beat. “In another life.”
Silence for a spell. They look over at the pirate ship, looming huge before the horizon. The glare of Allen’s facelight was bothering Jennifer. She politely asked him to turn it off. Or down.
“I don’t know how to turn it down. I’ll just detach it.” Now he can’t see her beautiful face as clearly, he thought. Oh well, the setting sun casts it in a different, if less visible light. All angles and shades are good for her. I believe I’m falling in love. He was preparing to give her flowers. One of a line of gifts stretching into the future he has in mind. Leading to…
“Tropp’s great, really,” spoke Jennifer again, breaking the spell.
Tropp, sulked Allen Y. He must be eliminated. But they seem to have quite a long history together now.
He’s heard of… assimilations. Maybe that will be the ticket.