Center. 128/128: Rhodenwald. Roads Rhoads Rhodes. LIVES (2nd and 1st). Black Man… Men. Central Pumpkin.
“Pipersville,” Hucka Doobie chipped in.
“Pipersville,” Baker Bloch reinforced from the corner.
“Tell us about yourself — Elvis wasn’t it?”
“Black,” added Elvis, because he was. “Well, I liked books, no matter how dusty and boring. I’m a learned man. I enjoy truths over falsehoods. I don’t enjoy singing and dancing and womanizing as much as my white counterpart.” He turned the page, because he was reading and speaking at the same time. The word “white” had just been encountered. “That’s about all for now,” he said plainly.
Buster looked over at Bettie and raised his eyebrows. She knew what he was thinking and visa versa. This is Duncan again, playing some sort of trick on them. Or someone *through* Duncan playing a trick. But just because this was another black man…
Elvis Black changed. Duncan A. indeed.
“Do you know who I am yet?”
“The South was wrong, you know. Worshiping 2 dimensional cartoon people like Hatfield over 3 dimensional history and facts, no matter how dusty and boring.”
Bettie stopped swinging and looked over at still swinging Nancy, imagining a horn growing out the far side of her head for some reason. Then she attempted to synchronize with her again and soon they were side-by-side.
Bettie later brought the subject up to Buster, turning tiny herself in the meantime.
“I’m more focused on the sinks and Lemon vs. Lime.”
“Nancy says that’s related,” spoke Bettie across from him.
Buster sits up while looking in the distance. “Hold on. I think I see Duncan.”
But it was another Black Man. Duncan had been replaced.
But, across the *road*…
… the sim of Rhodenwald certainly still is, thank God.
“I want to change further, Axis. I am not happy being me any longer. Look at the women Rhode photographed here. Beautiful.”
“You have changed, Young Ruby,” Axis advised. “You are now Fairy Ruby, a natural extension. And certainly quite beautiful. Natural beauty. Not like these more fake examples in my opinion.”
“Look at what I found on the marketplace,” Ruby declared, and then rezzed a new top. “Another natural extension?”
“No, Ruby. Put that foolish thing away. Fairy Ruby is quite satisfactory to me, and besides, we get to be married to each other as Mr. and Mrs. Claus. At least for a while.”
“Until the end of the season, yes.” Ruby persisted. “But how about this with the top.”
“No Ruby,” insisted Axis, staring at the manifested hair. “You are trying too hard. Let’s go to the upper floors, to the more abstract art. That will cheer you up and inspire you more. Leave these so-called realistic photos behind. They’re affecting your confidence.”
“Alright. But I’m going to test out my new look a little longer.”
“See Ruby? You passed this accident right by. Intermixed red and green again. Back of a Rhode work instead of a front. Sometimes looking at what’s happening behind the stage, for example, gives more information than the play itself.”
Ruby runs ahead, ganders at the front…
… then looks all around the floor. “Huh. I guess you’re right, Axis. Everything is separated out neat and tidy in front. Green in this one. Red over there. Then green with a bit of red but only in one distinct streak, then another two reds and then back to green over here. ‘Green Monster’. The one we talked about before.
“I’m not a monster, you know,” stated synchronized Gregg, sitting at the table opposite Mr. Babyface in their unfinished Middletown penthouse apartment. “I got’s real, true feelings. I like… Bailey’s in a shoe. I like watercolors. Watercolors of Bailey’s.” He pauses thoughtfully in his ranting. “I like you.”
“Oil me up, then.” Accompanied by a small buzzing sound, green Gregg Oden changes over to red Greg Ogden. Mr. Normal.
“Ah so.” But Mr. Babyface had been thinking lately that “normal” Greg(g) could do with a little more monster inside him. Might help their sex life. He dare not try all that out with the monster itself yet; not quite yet. Must keep using oil. No, he must think of other things now.
One prominent figure in Kamas folklore history is Thomas Rhoads. According to legend, Indian guides from an area Ute Tribe revealed to Rhoads the location of a gold mine from which he was allowed to take gold to assist in the construction of the Salt Lake Temple. The only condition the Ute guides gave for revealing the location of this mine was that Rhoads agreed not to reveal [it] to any other person. Rhoads adhered to the terms of this agreement until his eventual death from an illness. The “Rhoads Mine” is now considered lost, but its legend survives in several books which have been published on the topic.
Who was killed or murdered? Duncan pondered from his rocking chair after reading. I suppose it would have to be *this town*.
The world seemed a little haywire tonight.
And Duncan was feeling a little stupid because the actual center of the Rhodenwald sim was *not* the pumpkin cart he thought before — and which the owner of the parcel was “hiding” behind when he first met him — but, still, this *orange pumpkin* between a playground fence and the outer wall of that hedge maze also mentioned in the last post.
And the green dot representing this person on the map definitely *was* at the center. He thought… maybe he was wrong all along.
But it also seemed a little peculiar that, night of all nights, Duncan finds anomalous plane objects in these particular Rhodenwald parcels owned by Black.
Although they disappear quickly this time.
Let’s back up a bit…
“We didn’t want to tell you about the anomaly quite yet but something or someone is forcing our hand. Happened April 19th of this year. Reported in the community forums — you can read details there.”
Duncan wondered why Sid/Angus Nuffin moved to the table and away from the suave chair beside him he was sitting in to pull up the appropriate interweb pages. Had he finished with it?
“Notice also,” Sid continued, “that whoever took that inworld picture of the map was standing right on the site of the Rhode Gallery, even though the gallery wasn’t yet there at the time; only built a little later. July I believe.”
“Queer,” came Duncan’s simple response. It was all a bit overwhelming, especially adding in the Rhode synchronicities concerning the Meat City-Kamas UT overlap. Hidden mountain treasure? Was that what this was all about? Pot-D as gold seekers? The Diagonal itself as a red herring?
“One more thing for now. Look at the picture before that one on the community forum post.”
Duncan tried but failed. “I– I can’t pull it up,” he admitted, embarrassed.
That’s what we suspected, Sid thought, and had to show him a little later.
Sugar House. The reason they brought Duncan Avocado into the club in the first place.