Category Archives: New Island

seed point

Adelaide crawled around and crawled around, but still was unable to find New Island under this bed. Maybe the others would know more, she realized happily. I haven’t *thought* about asking them yet (!).

But in truth she had asked the other patients at Baumbeer Mental Hospital in the Tethia sim of Heterocera’s Pond District over and over this same line of questioning: Where is New Island? What happened to my art colony? Where are my *paintings*? She couldn’t face the fact that it was all gone, as if in a poof. Mid Hazel was the culprit. She grew tired of watching energy grow in that direction and put a quick halt to it. The catastrophe. Radiation in a lime green kiln. BOOM! But strangely, no harm to the involved buildings, and, outwardly at least, to the people either. Until they started dropping to the ground 4, 5, 6 days later. Not the people, the *art*. On display no more, and soon to derezz away into nothingness as creative energy continued to be drained.

Ground Zero?: the chair that the Tronesisia robot sculpture currently occupies at the Artist Point Interactive gallery, former location of the kiln where sculptress Tennessee Nuffin Butler fired her male parts in. It was a particular Red bit that Mid Hazel had chosen for the nascent seed. And it came from the future and had something to do directly with Bill and cheese.

Adelaide waves her hands in the air, trying to decide, once more, which way the wind blows.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island, Pond District

Middle House

“Who are you?”

Tessa suddenly understood. “Um. This is not good, Grandpa.”

“Don’t get up sir.”

Too late.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

slenderman

“How long has it been, Tessa?” an older Grandpa wheezed. He was the more valuable platinum through and through now.”

“4 years. You’re old, Grandpa. You need to rest here a while.”

“Is my tie on straight? Can you tell my teeth from my face still?”

“You look great,” his grand niece lied.

“Send her in, then. We must get the pricing over with.”

Liana the owner enters her heavily windowed coffee shop and immediately begins hanging tapestry. This was not who they were expecting. Where’s Sally?

Looks like Grandpa will live to see another day.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

giraffe

She was leaning so far over that I’m surprised her head wasn’t hitting the window pane in the back. But Nataly was doing a good job explaining the story so far. Let’s take a listen…

“Pen is the evolution of The Pencil, Dear Reader. And so our saga continues, just 4 long, long years later. New Island has become post-apocalyptic. What is the disaster that caused this? you should ask. Increase of sand, increase of terrain and elevation; increase of *The Wastelands*. The Tilers moved in first, took over the Fries with Cheese property downtown and destroyed the church. Hopefully we’ll get to the continuing challenges of basement dwellers Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame soon, thrown together for protection, food, and liberty. Young Shirley Boot ceases to be 12, but has progressed no further than the first day of her 13th year, frozen in time because of the… catastrophe — we’ll certainly get to that shortly. Not-so-young Ruby also remains middle-of-15, unable to transverse the ages 16 17 18 to reach the 19 she should be by this point. And Mabel: Mabel remains old but child-like. She’s taken to wearing her Hannah Montana outfit 24/7, and this is most likely the effects of the radiation as well — affecting her brains and not what. She’s remodeled Robot Derak Jones to become Robert Drake Johns, probably another symptom since he’s as lime green as her now. Ahh, now we get to Sally. For Sally is perhaps an even stranger one. Founder of New Yd, evolution of the Tilers, she now keeps watch on the Deep Dunes for sign of The Monster, who continues to roam New Island and where aging *is* effected. The Man in the High Castle makes sure of that. Perhaps we should join him and his current crew next for more answers. Thank you for listening, and have a super night!”

Nataly removed the mike from her long, long neck and stood up. “How was that David?”

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

absorption

“I should be finished with journal 9 in 2 weeks or less, Robert Drake Johns. Then we will reassess the situation.”

“That’s great, Older Mabel,” spoke the tall, lime green robot seated beside her. His voice was nasal compared to most mechanoids of his type — Mabel designed him this way to appear slightly comical to her and help lighten the mood sometimes. Because the mood was dire in many instances. The Wastelands held nothing back.

“I’m wondering when The Monster will return,” started RDJ again. “Sally lives on the edge of the Deep Dunes but hasn’t seen or smelled anything in 2 weeks or more. The Axis powers may have won the war, but they haven’t been especially active conquerors… let us do what we please, when we please.”

“Oh they’re around.” She scribbles quickly once more. “Right now I’m seeing a narrow boat, mired deep in the high sands. Two children — no, a child and a man, actually an older man. Then another, observing man. No, sorry again, a woman but with many eyes, some which could be masculine. Actors and Observers again, Robert Drake Johns.”

“I miss my cousin,” said RDJ out of the blue. “I miss Cardboard. The character and not the substance, although that has disappeared too. All metal and rust now; little plastic as well.”

“And parchment,” added Mabel brightly. “Thank Gods for parchment.”

“And Ink!”

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

chance upon

He approached the other bush cautiously. “Are you my son?” He waited. “I’m looking for my son.”

The wind continued to blow.

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island

N. Yd

“Tilers, Tessa. It marks this place as safe after all, despite the surface malignancy.

But we can’t take a chance anyway this time — fog rolling in; darkness too. We better ascent that tall ladder over there to higher ground for the night.”

“I’m *more* than ready to get out of these lowlands,” Tessa offered, staring back at the pirate ship from whence they came. Shark references everywhere. And not in a good and beneficial way. *Those* signs are there too, and in much more profusion. Tessa thinks that her Grandpa Gold puts way too much stock in these Tilers he goes on about at times. Left their signets here, dropped their talismans there. Sanctified grounds, he states and walks forward. Nothing malicious has happened… *yet*. And this is just the kind of place to break the lucky streak.

“We’ll come back in the morning if possible,” he says. “If Tilers were here then there is surely more to look at and study.”

“Whatever.”

—–

The next morning, on the same spot:

“Oh the weather is *much* better now,” Tessa voiced sarcastically. “I can barely see 20 feet in front of me.”

“The tile here indicates safety, however,” her grandpa reinforced. “Safe to split up, then. You examine the buildings that way,” — Grandpa Gold points behind Tessa — “and I’ll work my way around from this end — counterclockwise — until we meet up somewhere in the middle. Is that okay?”

“If you say it’s safe, then I suppose it’s safe,” says Tessa, doubting the words coming out of her mouth but also putting her trust in who she assumes is a wiser and older being.

“Saves time that way,” he adds without verification from the child. “See you in the middle.” He turns away from her and walks toward the first structure in his direction. Tessa begins on her side.

—–

“Freak show eh?” Tessa speaks aloud at one of the westernmost structures of the compound, thinking back to something called the Elephant Man, she believes. Nothing to make fun of! But is this an octopus who has the features of a man or visa versa? Anyway — not alive. Taking a picture and moving on…

—–

“Nothing in there either.”

“Oh, there you are already, Grandpa. We meet in the middle, I suppose. Anything on your side?”

“A church,” he states.

“Tilers?”

“I think so. The right colors. They were indeed here. But first: let’s look in the last house of all. Together.”

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Filed under *Second Life, New Island