Category Archives: 0103

in the most-least obvious place

“Oh, we’ve looked everywhere for Franklin. Franklin Hollow here. Hootin Holler just a holler away to the north. Nothing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We’ll find her.”

“Absorption.”

“Yes.”

Afterwards, Baker Bloch, in whatever guise he’s in at the moment, thinks that he needs to set up extra protection around Shelley, convince her of her supreme long term worth, her *extraordinary* nature. He didn’t think Franklin could emerge back out of her but also might be wrong. Small chance, but there. Roberts cannot be underestimated.

—–

meanwhile, in *Fordham*:

“You stay here with me and play backwards-forwards guitar, Franklin. Us greenies gotta stick together. Right Unch?” she calls up, then pretends to hear a, “right Apples,” from the tree behind her in place of “mere” leaf rustling.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0103, Bellisaria, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

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Darn stove. Won’t heat up again. Oh well, they can eat at the cottage now. Hope it’s well stocked.

“Hurry up and brush your teeth, dearest.”

“Arr arr arr Arr arr arr Arr.”

“Have you taken your shower?”

“Arr arr ar — *spit*.  Not yet. Arr arr arr.”

“Well hurry. Landfall should be in any (*hard clunk*) minute.”

She looks around to see if anything has fallen off the walls or appliances in the kitchen. Collision with the island obviously. They’re here, automatic pilot accomplishing its mission.

“Looks like we’re here.”

“No joke. I spit all over my jacket this time. My nice green Columbia.”

“Yeah, why are you wearing that thing indoors anyway? Must be 70 in here.”

“Thin blood obviously.”

“*Green* blood you mean,” replied Roberts to this. “Like everything else about you. Except your cash oddly,” she wondered aloud.

“Yeah, gotta draw the line somewhere. I thought I’d make it the obvious.”

“Well no one else I know has got red money.”

“Coins,” Mabel (Mabel!) replied to this. “I almost always pay in coins, gold and silver, true moolah.”

“You put you on the scale at any random moment in the day and your 25 over, ha. Just go all the way. A girl of Purest Green.”

“You know I can’t do that.” She’d finished cleaning the white off her jacket. “Time for a shower still?” she called over hopefully.

“Only if I can join you, tee hee.” F-ck the stove.

—-

20 minutes later they were staring over at their new home for a week. Martha had left a big pot of beans cooking on the beach. Good ol’ Martha.

“It’s small,” complained Mabel — we’ll still call her Mabel. For the moment.

“It’s cheap,” shot back Roberts.

“And that *thing* at the door.”

“Yeah, ha. I guess you’ve never seen one of those — don’t know what it represents.”

She took the joke in stride. “Oh I’ve dated men.”

“We started dating when we were 14. *When*?”

“Before you, sister. Jim. Yeah, that’s his name.”

“Another made up lover. A man this time. Ridiculous. You’re about as straight as the coins filling your pockets.”

“I paid *cash* for him. The straight stuff. The *green* stuff. Why do you think I’m so loathed to carry it now?”

“Jim, huh.” Roberts was starting to be convinced.

“Yeah. Right before we started dating. I ran from men to women as fast as I could after that encounter. And wasted my money as well.”

“How much?”

“Cash?”

“Yeah. I just want to know. How much would you have paid for *me*?”

“Fifty.”

“Fifty. (pause) That’s all? A male hooker in upscale Wampumtown? What, did you go all the way down to the docks –”

Mabel turned and glared at Roberts with this. Enough was enough, line drawn (again). Docks it is.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0103, Nautilus, North

Top gal

Building numbers the same: too coincidental. This is the neighborhood where I grew up — highlighted in the Oracle as well (Alabama, other states). And *Edward*. Poor Eddy Daigle, Wheeler thinks, purposefully getting his name wrong in honor of cousin Tessie (our Tessa). She “defeated” the pyramid being; sent him out the door without his dunce cap into the world of reality. Although he made a lot of D’s (hence the corner standing), she’s confident that he could work things out; join the land of the living.

She’s got on her retro sock hop outfit to better blend in. Now to see what else is here in this rainbow powered burg.

She checked building after building. The place seems empty. For now.

—–

The next town up and kattycorner: more success.

But can she fit in here?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0103, Jeogeot, Towerboro

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Cardinal looks over at Bluebird happily unpacking more cotton candy swabs and wishes she would have gone into sweet as well.

“Excuse me, miss, do you have this in red?” asked Billie about the Chardonnay she holds, producing a sour look from her and driving a potential customer away. See what I mean?

Where before there was a lime colored X-1/9, sleek in design, now all our Edward Daigle (Baker Bloch in disguise) had was a lemon. The helicopter crashed to the ground, *JUMP*.

The NO Tor was just over the horizon in the distance. Something about that Tor…

Too bad Edward didn’t spot it on his visit today.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0103, Jeogeot, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Towerboro

investigations continue

Blue Rose Thorn is at it again, stopping at Escanes this time in the Wild West’s Long Islands. Check out the sign: “YES… WE CAN!” Es… can(es) again you’ll notice. Democrats as well, since this is Obama’s presidential slogan. It’s all about symbols this go around. Signs.

Blue Rose Thorn writes down what he’s found in a local beauty spot before moving on.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0103, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West

player at piano

‘Big Red Machine,’ ‘Big Red Machine.’ *Here* it is.

No place to read — all seats taken, thanks to my colleagues in crime. Not crime — anyway, I’ll stand. I don’t mind. These 2 always seem to have the upper hand, testing this and judging or determining that. When I have the information in this book, things might change. Worth a try. Good, they’re not looking — absorbed in their own research.

Chapter 4: Twitch of the Morgan. Okay, getting somewhere. Um, hmm. (read read read). Ah ha. (scan scan scan) Getting late. The others seem bored. Better wrap this up, come back when I can ditch these two snitches — yes snitches. To the cause. I’ve found the book, that’s the important thing today. Fern is still looking around, almost as if — she can’t see me (!). Can they *hear* me? But too risky to test while she has the book. No need to attract attention to herself, whether she is truly hidden or not. She could become unhid, and whatever spell was cast on her by unknown powers (but probably Fern; maybe by accident even) wore off.

Okay, definitely getting weird here. Fern’s looked right at me several times now and it’s as if I didn’t exist (!). Ghosted somehow; Lichen the same. They seem to be finished with their own reading, kind of staring and glancing around. Probably looking for *me* I would assume, since we came in the same car or whatever. Carriage. The time is April through July, I know that. The day, the *century*, though, is unclear. Fern said this was a place we could research the hypercube, and better understand the link that is forming between 1st and 2nd lives. Great! I said, and Lichen also smiled across at me, knowing that Fern was onto something and this would be a better library experience than the one over in Dairocha Castle on Nautilus. This wasn’t Nautilus, oh no. This was the Orient by comparison. And me, me… Oriental. This is about me! Another test, most likely. But why?

The 9th and final chapter beyond the Great 8: gone. As if it had been ripped out by unseen hands. The crucial information! Soo sleepy. Fern and Lichen are still looking around. Sleepy. Eyes getting heavy. *Gone*.

“I don’t think Alysha is coming back,” Fern finally said, tired of the wait.

“No. She must have gone back to the carriage.”

“Carriage?”

“What-ever.”

Lumbering Big Red sitting nude with his big ass parked on the piano bench over there was finishing up Part 9 of his suite of compositions. Soon the spell would be over and Alysha would reappear, a bit confused but otherwise okay. But the book in her lap would have disappeared along with the music. One and the same.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0103, Dairocha, Mountain Lake^, Nautilus, North, Omega^^

killings 02

The guys from Paper-Soap arrive.

“Watch out for that German! Hey, there’s another one, look out!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0103, Jeogeot, Sunklands^

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“Oh it was just awful, Zach. That *look* in his eyes.”

Always the same, Zach thinks. She repeats herself over and over about their description, these “walking dead” as she calls them.

“But then the last dream I had about David Bowie was *fun*. Cute umbrella people — New People they called themselves, but come from a flooded country. They turned into umbrellas — that stopped the rains. Very cute,” she reinforced. “And David Bowie was their leader (!). Except he called himself… umm.” She couldn’t recall the name Bogota, because that could put a kind of damper on the cuteness. Because: another walking dead obviously.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0103, Cassandra City^, Heterocera, Maebaleia/Satori, Rubi^

circle (blue in center)

“Kolya,” she gasped, sensing him from far away.

—–

There she is, the Aldebaronian A.O. thought. My perfection, my *opposite*. But what’s this? An *intruder*. Not on *my* watch.

He decides then and there to defeat this adversary to his true love’s hand, hidden in shadow behind that right hand stone in the above photo. Later he uncovers his real name: Jon Deere. “Mow him down,” he reiterates at the time. “Like corn.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0103, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Paper, Paper Soap, Soap, Upper Austra^

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“Picturetown, huh?” He glanced back at his prospective new customer, unable to see the holes in his head from this angle. Well, he *does* take the flights that no one else will cover, including flying to imaginary countries, counties, and cities if needed. Last week it was Oz. Week before: Wonderland. One of the Alices wanted to go home to visit a sick aunt who might or might not be on her deathbed, hard to tell. But she had to find out. Then before that: he couldn’t recall. Maybe Texarkana. “Sure, I’ll do it,” he said, not wanting to delay his reply any longer, wanting to exude confidence that he could get the job done. He’s checked all the maps in the meantime. No Picturetown in Canada or anywhere else in the world. But he’ll get him there. All he needs is the coordinates, and he can get them from Chuck and his special computer tapped into the Lemon World, the one no one is suppose to know about. Chuck connects him to the fantasy lands, and for that he gets a hefty wage in *real* money, not that fake green crap they peddle at, say, Oz. Rubles, someone tried to hand him the other day after a flight to Borneo. “No rubles,” he said in return. “*Real* money,” and he kept his hand out until actual, metal coins were laid in it, signifying a completed sales transaction. Paper money doesn’t hack it for our Marion “Star” Harding, former ace pilot in the World Wide Web War, version 2.0. Since then they’d come out with 3.0 and he was back at his desk, back to being a private pilot specializing in the weird and even profane, like sneaking the elf hookers out of Santaland and back to Easter Isle where they belong. Bunnies, he thought here. Nothing but bunnies. “5:15 tomorrow okay for you?” he asked the prospective customer, working with numbers on his computer at the same time he thought all this other stuff.

“Sure.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0103, Nautilus, Upper Austra^