Category Archives: 0108

00480108

The band was already playing when we walked to the bar counter, started asking loud questions over the noise. “Anyone here by the name of Tom?!” I began. “Maybe a doctor or something?!”

The bartender looked confused at first, as if attempting to process the request. His eyes rolled upwards a bit, then he said, “Tom, you say?!”

“Yeah!” I shouted back. “Maybe a doctor?!” I reinforced the second part.

“There was!… here, let’s go outside and I can talk better! Joe, hold down the bar for just a minute!” What appeared to be the barback — bartender’s assistant — didn’t look too happy, but then moved to a customer who had just approached the counter and took an order. He seemed to know what he was doing.

Outside we got a lot of information from Harry, who also told us that Tom was a Dick. Tom Cruise, as it turns out. Like Julee but different.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0108, Dokken Hollow, Jeogeot, New York, Qbrick, Stanley, Twin Peaks, Washington

00470108

Roberts takes the magical Chihuahua from my arms, removes the hover text style numbers from its head and feeds them into the computer through an input mechanism I can’t quite understand or explain. “Good good,” says the private investigator who also doubles as my lawyer while watching the monitor. “The Red Row is forming again… see?”

I see this in front of me: one red square appears to the upper left, then another directly to the right of it then another to the right of it then another to the right of it until the sequence numbers 13. But the 13th, she explains, is the same as the 1 again.

“What next?” she asks. I tell her I don’t know. “Zero,” she persists. “The interval is zero now,” she prompts. “What’s next?”

“Um… one?” I guess without much conviction.

“Yes!” And with the press of a key, a second row forms in a similar manner directly below the first. All the colors are different now except for the 1st square and the last square again. Beginning at the left we have red once more, then red-orange, orange, yellow-orange, yellow, yellow-green, green, blue-green, blue, blue-violet, violet, red-violet and then red to end. These were her words for the gradiated colors as she explains what happened.

Then she asks again: “What next?”

“Oh geez, I don’t know. I suppose: two?”

“Right-o!” Same kind of row forms immediately below the first two when another key is pressed. Colors now: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, and then — repeating the pattern beginning with the 7th square — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, to end with red again.

“What next?” she then asks. I think I was getting the hang of this.

Eventual what was produced was this, which promptly went into Barry de Boy’s “Does This Look Square to You?” series at the end. Roberts called it “The Atom.” “This is where everything starts,” she said about it. “Can you see?”

“Here, back up a bit,” she suggests. “Squint your eyes,” she said after I still had trouble getting it.

I saw.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0108, Cable Isle, Jeogeot, Mississippi, Towerboro

00460108 (319)

That’ll be 4 bucks please,” said ramen shop attendant Jacwylin, extending her hand with the bill for the bills. She was also the manager of this small cyperpunk type shop, if it wasn’t Tammy (pause). No, I checked. Tammy isn’t projected to be in this here photo-novel, 46 in a series. So this remains Jacwylin. “You know,” she begins again, name settled on and free to dwell in the past now. “Blue Moon Kentucky sat on that very seat, ordered that very meal. Blue like you too.” She scrutinized the face more closely. “Nah,” she begged off. “You’re not her.”

“Of course I’m not her,” said the blue clad woman back. Still working for the Horns, the big bosses, although the boss boss Edward was the only one still around. Who was now also her boyfriend. Luckily for her, he doesn’t have a cleanliness obsession. He doesn’t mind a little dirty. “But,” she reconsidered, “that’s an interesting story, worth a follow up statement.” There. I just did it. Would she get the joke?

“Ha ha,” she started after a significant enough pause. “Hu hu hu, good one.” She got it. “But, *anyway*, Blue Moon… do you like her music? Do you prefer the Cracks or do you prefer her solo work? Some do.” She withheld the “like me,” part. Wanted to get the other’s opinion first.

“I’ve heard of ‘Keep on Shining.'”

“Yes yes. Good one.” Maybe a solo lover. Like herself. She’ll keep patient.

“And, let’s see, the one about suicide is certainly interesting. Can’t recall the name of that.”

Jacwylin couldn’t either in the moment. Oh yes, she thought. “Elvis Esley.” Or Isley — she couldn’t remember if the last name of the single started with an E or an I, our first mandela effect in this here post (pause). I checked to make sure and, yes, it is so. The name Tammy remains a mistake and not an alternate reality.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0108, C2077, Nightsity

00450108 (Red Arrow (Coming back to Earth))

“This one’s gold. Annnnd (grunts while reaching into the wagon for another one)… *this* one’s gold.”

She pauses in her work to look around the Badlands business. “Jeez, looks like they’re *all* gold to me, huh.”

Her boss comes out of left field and tells her it’s quitting time.

“Do I come back tomorrow?” she asks expectantly, wiping her hands on her jeans before inserting them into its pockets.

He also looks around at all the rocks, gauges the height of the piles, their diameter, whether more rocks can be added to them right now. “Mmmmm. We’ll see. Stay close to your phone in the morning.”

“Oh. Oh okay.”

He stares at her pants, then decided to add: “I’d recommend washing your hands before leaving, err–” He stops; he can’t remember her name; he decides to continue like no awkward pause occurred. “Anyway, ahem, some of these, um, rocks might contain uranium, uh hmm. Not enough to kill you or anything (hardy laugh here). Just as a precaution. Soap’s on the sink in the bathroom over there.” He exits back to the left after pointing in that direction. Fern is alone. No call in the morning as it turns out. Another day off to enjoy the desert sun and wind. Maybe even a dust storm midday to break up the monotony. Out of sunscreen, though, with no money left to buy. She’s hoping for rain.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0108, California, South Dakota, Twin Peaks

00440108 (slab)

Now we just have to return the shovel to where we found it so as not to piss off the local aliens. In the second bush located in a nearby old tool shed. Flaming.

Still in the dead of night, we deliver the slab to said aliens to complete their glyph puzzle so that they can see how to leave this place, this planet. Fire, wind, water they had. But we had to provide them with the final piece representing Earth.

“This planet is a cube!” they all uttered in surprised unison just later while looking down on it, then got to work on recalibrating their navigational charts accordingly, soon to be gone from here.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0108, VOTV

00430108

“It’s bs about the Cleveland Rocks ultimately representing a phallus. And everyone who was hired by Asylum was given that list. They were ask to study it, write down 10 things they noticed. From this, they were assigned their positions within the company, a kind of aptitude test. Grandpa didn’t do well on it, didn’t even spot the obvious reversing of the D words Diablo with Draco in the supposedly completely alphabetized list, and so he was given the position of, let’s call it, sanitation engineer.”

“Grandpa,” asked Fern about the name. “Why did you call him that?”

“Because he was Grandpa Cliffs before he was Drew ‘Grumpy’ Cleveland. He’s *old*. The project was actually started in 1919, not 1972. That list was invented in 1919, both of ’em actually, although of course the second was advertised as the only one at the time.”

“He told us he was from ‘rough’ Grandpa Cliffs, as he put it, but implied it was a place. Just across the channel — I assumed he meant the river that flows below Castle Town, fixed in a gorgeous gorge.”

“No, that was his name,” insisted Teebestia the Asylum bartender, mask removed and revealed for what she was. A fount of knowledge about all things Asylum. She was old too, older than Grandpa, er, Grumpy, she claimed. “He was rough all right, though,” she continued. “Brought a rusty knife right with him into the compound on his first day. Rust is prohibited anywhere on Mars, you see. It’s because it’s considered a concealed weapon, even if you openly wield it in your hand. Mars is just that dusty. Can’t have rust or rust colored objects. So he was given a fine right off the bat.”

“And, let me guess, that was also on the aptitude test. Which Grandpa/Grumpy didn’t spot as well, didn’t understand the rule being openly displayed in the list.”

“RUSTYKNIFE, yeah,” said Teebestia, idle in the moment and free to talk at length. Only kind of rush they get in this place is 12-1 when the labs let out. “Should have been paired with MUSKET as an obsolete or extinct weapon. (The test) is all about pairings. GREEN-GRAY obviously.”

“Right.” Fern had time to study the list more later with this new information but she’d already started in her head. DIABLO-DRACO, GRAYBACK (or Greyback) and GREENGROW. Now MUSKET-RUSTYKNIFE. RUSTYKNIFE also with SPEARFINGER as a small projectile of death given long, sharp nails. And then CHOKE, BURN, BEAT, SPEAR — methods of death. EVE paired with JOANA indicates the overarching name and purpose of the thing. Fern could obviously have been president of this company. And perhaps she still can. “Leader?” she barked to Teebestia. “Wayne as in Bruce?”

Teebestia was looking for an opening to produce a copy of the red book from below the counter, slide it toward Fern as physical answer to a tough question. And so here it was. She had a stack of them down there.

“You want me to, study this?” Fern said, picking up the book and looking at the town on the cover.

“Start with references to a certain Biff Carter within and work your way out from there.” 3 customers walked into the bar named Sherwood, George, and Rutherford. She had to excuse herself with this.

“Whad’ll — it — be?” she asked them as if she had three heads instead of one, speaking, in turn, to the first, the middle, the last.

A dart shot into The Mouse.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0108, Mars^^, Ohio

00420108

Long ago she took to wearing an eyepatch while in the public, well, *eye*. Covered up the blue one, you see. Gave her the name Redeye, soon shortened to Red. She was ruler of this land in a sort of iron fisted way. Creating an army, although the other half of her, the blue side, feared for her life because of it. It was time for her monthly meeting with the Redslandian Press, tell them about what’s going on in the empire. How’s hubby The Mann doing? Any new staff hires? That kind of thing.

When she got to the hiring of Marsha, she halted. How to phrase it? Certainly The Mann would see the broadcast, either live or, if later on because of other matters, taped (she couldn’t remember what he had on this morning). She decided to keep calling her Patricia because of this, although as we’ve seen, Marsha replaced Patricia when she assumed the secretary job. Patricia the St. Patrick girl was no more after this, and neither was Tania the Valentine person. All because of the deletion of the tree and all the ornaments, but *especially* that train one. Marsha has some power after that, some leverage. Just like Parasol. They stared into each other’s eyes and saw deception. Both knew about Biff Carter. Both kept this from The Mann.

Marsha was watching it live from her cubbyhole in the middle of the manor about 175 meters away and 20 meters up. A knock at the hidden room’s door, which meant a knock on the Secret Door Bookshelf blocking the only entrance. Who could *this* be? she said to herself while debating whether to make her presence known. But of course: they can hear the broadcast. Should’ve wore headphones, but she assumed everyone else in the building was watching the same. She’d have to answer.

“Who’s there?”

A pause. Then: “Biff. Biff Carter.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0108, Maebaleia/Satori, Redsland

00410108

“What are we looking at, Christina? Are you looking for your father?” Pamela huffs. “Never mind, you *always* look in this direction, long long before your father went missing on his tractor just day before yesterday.”

“I am a visitor to this place. Over there… those hills. That’s where I’m from,” Christina said dreamily, like she was a ghost instead of a flesh and blood person. Which she wasn’t anyway — mesh, as I indicated before. In contrast, Pamela is “real” in that she has an actual body, actual skin, actual clothes that she can change out of if desired. Actual hair. And those feet! Get back to that soon.

“Christina,” she chastised, but only mildly, knowing the young girl was “troubled” to say the least, “you’ve lived in Amiable all your life. We went to school together starting when you were a wee lassie, pardon my Scotch. You’ve lived here with your father, your brother, all your life. Well,” she amended, “your younger brother *most* of your life, since you were, I believe, 3 when he was born.” She turned and stared at the girl instead of the landscape, very pretty indeed but not worth contemplating for more than 5-10 minutes at a time from this particular angle, she gauged. Yet Christina was up here all day, minus food breaks and various small chores her father dared burden her with. Which reminds Pamela: “Grass is going to need cutting soon,” she said to the younger girl by 2 years while walking away, determined to talk to the almost as robotic acting brother, up at what they call the farmhouse as usual playing or at least attempting to play — *strumming* — his punk songs. Whole albums he is into, not just songs, he proclaimed to her one day in April’s May.

She knew Wally kind of fancied her, as all young boys do, even those as lost in their own world as him. Said so another time. “You’re pretty,” he opined then. “Looong legs. I’d give them a 10, just like the Ramone’s 3rd album. Have you heard ‘Rockaway Beach’?” and he then proceeded to play the whole album the single was from as a kind of serenade, she supposed. Another time he said he liked the way she tended to walk on her toes, and played an entire Sex Pistols album called “Never Mind the Buttocks” as she recalled, perhaps as a tribute to the feet as opposed to parts higher up that she also reckoned he liked although couldn’t say out loud to her.

I’m going to snap him out of this rock trance he’s in, she decided on the spot. By snapping off my feet. “Wally? Wally. Waallly. Wally!” He didn’t stop playing some punk song she didn’t recognize — not her style of music. But at least he was glancing at her now, knowing she was up to something. Those legs, he thought. Those feet!

But then he did a double take when the snapping off was over and the alpha was removed. The music halted mid-strum. “Those *feet*!” he exclaimed. What happened to the beautiful toes??

“This is who I really am, Wally,” she said back. “*Now*… since I’ve awakened you from your music trance, let’s talk about your father. Where he possibly is? How far could he get with that old tractor that breaks down all the time? Let’s *find* your *father*.”

This kind of strategy wouldn’t work with Christina, since she, in her limited mesh way of course, wasn’t looking for shells on the opposite side of the beach. Wally could be persuaded in that fashion. And could be woke up in that fashion.

“My *father,*” he exclaimed, putting the guitar down for the first time in Pamela’s memory of him, “is *missing*.”

So is introduced the story that Bigfoot took his father away into the woods and made a pet out of him, which wasn’t totally false by the way.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0108, Teepot^^

no Plain Jane

“Go ahead. Take it for a spin.” In the darkness, Marsha hadn’t seen her sitting at the table — apparently reading — while she checked out this likewise yellow bug of a neighbor, a buggy if you want to get technical. She was mulling over specifics about its traction, how deep of a sand drift could you drive it through, and so on. And now the owner’s right over there. If she’s not too pissed about Marsha being on private property, maybe she could get some answers to these.

“I’m so sorry for being here, um, miss. It’s just that…”

“Yes yes, I know. You have a yellow bug too. Couldn’t resist the temptation. I’ve been eyeing your own parked over there for days. Well, for nights. That’s the only time I show up. Awfully busy above during the sunshine hours you know.” She points up, indicating Reality reality as opposed to Our Second Lyfe reality. Marsha figured she had a job that kept her going.

“Who are you?” Marsha ventured. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Not at all. But I’m just an ordinary, average gal. Mrs. Ordinary, if you will. You call me that: Mrs. Ordinary. Ah heck,” she waved off the suggestion. “Call me my actual name. Beth. Beth Page. No (she changed her mind again). Beth Compt… no, Comfort. Like the mound just above me. Rocky Comfort. I’ve seen you up there as well, surveying the land. Figured out we all came in a group, huh. 15 years old the lot of us. Not Beth (she changed once more): Bethany. But keep the Comfort.”

But later Marsha learned her real name was Ginger Blue, which called into question her very existence.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0108, Bellisaria, Sandfly

TOM — Top Of Mountain — revisited/ ring found

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0108, Blue Mountain, City Park