Category Archives: 0109

00350109

Well. Reading *that* certainly made me hungry.

But we better bring in the potential groom to be. Blast from the past.

“You’ll have to get rid of the mohawk,” I say over.

“Done.”

“And the red and blue eyes.”

“Also: done.”

“Annd… the lipstick.”

“Oh. *Okay*. But I’m keeping the earring.”

“Fine.”

“Soo where’ve you been?” He looks kind of like me at that age, Newt thinks, finally somewhat satisfied with The Musician’s appearance. Needs to put on some pounds; seems a bit gaunt. Punk life must be rough on him that way.

“Off the grid,” he answers. “Touring,” he elaborates.

“In your… band.”

“Yeah.” He takes another sip of the wine he brought along, not chancing a strange brand from an unknown place. Although the overall location pretty near the Rubi Woods was familiar to him. Patagonia here. Like the brand of jacket that Franklin wasn’t wearing. Instead: Columbia, which she soiled with her toothpaste. It’s fine, though.

“Last time I checked you were in Sunklands.”

“That wasn’t me,” he shot back, not claiming responsibility for being in that club, The Cavern. “Someone else,” he stands firm.

“Despite the similar appearance? Despite the mohawk?”

“Yeah.” He’d been through this before. He had a female double. Jacob I. knows. If we can wake him up from where he slumbers.

“Alright, how about, let’s see, Paper-Soap?”

“Nope.”

Pause as I continue to read/study. “Then let’s try the Omega continent’s Straight. With Duncan Avocado.”

“Okay. Recall *something* about that.” He scratches his now bare head, trying to reveal memories.

“Duncan was mad at you because you were disguising yourself as grown up in an adult infohub. Something, hold on, about milk and cookies. You were looking over at milk and cookies. But was it *really* milk–”

“I remember,” The Musician cut him short. He’d grown up fast that day, if not nearly enough to match his body at the time. But he could change back very quickly in those days. Aah, the energy of youth.

“And then… you said you aren’t the same as the woman version of you, right? The director as I’m recalling through this review of ours.”

“Correct.” There was an interesting mystery there to be solved, I log through Newt. Him but not him. A her. “And then — I guess we’re all the way back to when you were with Wheeler.”

“Why I’m here,” he replied simply and took another sip. He jumped at the chance to marry her this go around, in whatever form she has. He’d seen pictures and that was enough. “Sold,” he said to me. Thus the meeting at this cafe beneath the giraffe which he rode in on.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0109, Heterocera, Rubi^

00340109

The next time I saw Jack he was pushing me against the wall of a clothing shop I was examining in the plaza where the space pod took me upon exiting the station.

Didn’t take long for him — one of his selves that is — to give me a pointed message. Don’t meddle in the affairs of this town. Stick to the rules, the instructions as he called it. Play the game and then leave. Else everyone gets confused, fearfully so. And, most likely, violently so.

But I was determined not to leave without the information I *wanted* (not needed). I was ruthless like that. I didn’t know that, just underneath the surface, was an interplanetary and interdimensional conspiracy ripe for revealing. I had stumbled not into a bottomless pit this time but the unveiling of the face of God at the bottom of it, Mexico and Canada combined unto one.

Later Ruth showed up working the plaza’s coffee stand and I was back to need not want. Trouble is, John was there too, staring at me staring at her. She was aware of eyes on her but decided not to acquiesce — play hard to get, as her character demanded (she had a secret). And then another John passed in the distance but I missed it.

And then Jack shows up walking toward that clothing store again, pheh. Clones. Town’s full of ’em. I fit right in.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0109, Canada, Mexico, Wendy-Ontario

frame count

“Lemme start again, heh. One two free fo five… wait, lemme…”

“It’s *13*,” I spoke down, having determined this long ago. “You keep saying 12 — at best. You keep saying that and you’re *dead*. You understand??”

He starts again with a laugh and a snicker and a hiccup. In his drunkenness he decides not to even try this time. “Oooonnnee, he he.”

“Just stop.” STOP

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0109, Jeogeot, Towerboro

symbol man

Lower Austra over there for sure, thinks Dickie Doom, looking west through a telescope from his position on Stoogle, at a cafe and boat repair establishment. Nice landscaping too.

—–

“So who’s your friend?” asked Debbie Doom to — we better determine a relationship — let’s say brother and sister instead of husband and wife. So: brother Dickie.

“Picked him up on the marketplace,” answered higher Dickie to lower sister Debbie on the tail of the sea monster. “Freebie,” he further explained. “Brand new as well; seemed to fit (the looming mystery).”

“Um hm,” she said. “Er, where’s his clothes?”

“Dunno,” answered Dickie, daring to look over at the lowest-of-all spectacle. Frog head, frog feet and hands, human body. He tried reloading (the outfit) but same result.

“And the rain.”

“Yes,” answers Dickie. “Somehow, one way or another, the Frog must turn into Prince.”

“P,” she said. “Power. He’s trying to tell us something.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0109, Frog Isles, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Yd Island^

4th and 5th (exterior shot)

Cold, wintery.

Wintery, cold.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0109, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^

redding

“I could just ram this smaller grey boat crosswise through those bigger black and white boats over there and end this.” Josh Richardson: professional insultant.

Called back to Maebaleia? Tour aborted? Fern Stalin better hightail it out of here in her own, much larger vessel. If she could only get the darn thing started. “Turn baby! Turn!”

—–

We’re losing characters right and left in this new photo-novel. We’re up to 30, W. Should I call you W still?”

W: “Sure”. Small pause. “Whatever rings your bell.”

“Bell, right.” He’s remembering. And Clare, the other head, the one actually attached to the body. Better find them, talk to them about TILE. Before the boy returns. But her house next to the snow and granite, Tennessee and Kentucky schism chasm is gone. And Clarksey is a bit too far away to use yet, both in space and in time.


*huff huff huff*

“It’s a conundrum, W.”

“You set them up. You knock them down. You’ll push through. Find me,” she ends.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0109, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Controller (xyz (23s))

“It’s what I tell everyone at this Table. Time to choose, darlings. You can pick two apples or one banana. If the latter, I’d go with the ripest one in case you don’t like it. Oranges aren’t needed since everyone has one — needless redundancy you see. And the choco chip cookies are *right* out unless you’re one of the Far Corner peoples. Don’t be that. Jacob or Jacobia — please select the item or items you wish to be.”

—–

“I don’t think we have to worry about the Heart Line any longer, Sid. Since the heart of the Heart is no longer there.”

“Okay.”

“Head is still in play, apparently.”

“I know. I was there (!) 23:23.”

“So my suggestion is go back to that spot, that exact melding of space and time. Obviously it will most likely be a different *time* of course, but the space remains locked.”

“Right-o. Can I take Martha?”

Buster thought this over. “How’s her hormones doing?” he decided to phrase it. No distracting from the job at hand!

—–

“He’s here. We’ll have to jump.”

“You go first.”

—–

“Okay he’s gone down the road guys! You can come out!”

“Guys!?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0109, Heterocera, Maebaleia/Satori

correspondents

My dearest Fern. Thank you for the recent email. It was so nice to hear from you again. Yes, I’m still stuck with the apples (bleh!), but the chafing has gone down thanks to Dr. Lice (he’s so nice). And Dr. Maggot has helped out as well; reduced the mass. But enough of me; how are you?? You said you were in this place called Paper-Soap now. Is that 2 sims rolled up into one? Resurrection of the dead, eh? Sounds like you have your hands full analying the place. Good that Dr. Mouse gave you a room at the asylum from which you can better study the incoming patients. They all must have fascinating stories, what with being recently dead. Lots of memories to rehash and recall while there’s still time, as you put it.

I miss you so much. You are a part of me! My white VW Beetle (white as my skin!) is still running swell, thanks to Dr. Armadillo over in Beat-town. All my doctors are so swell! CC is a wonderful place to hang out. I just discovered a Bellisseria Welcome Center here. Of all places! My art is going great — trying not to use swell again in a sentence. You warned me about repeating my words; shows symptoms of lowering IQ, and that as we get older we lose brain mass. If only I could apply that naturally to the body (apples) as well! That would be swell, haha.

Well, better end. I’ll write again soon, I promise. Good luck in Paper-Soap! Send me an im when you’re settled in and we’ll catch up in person.

Harrison Jett checks spelling and a bit of grammar then hits SEND. Done. Back and forth contact fully established with the person who means the most to him in his life so far. That is, before he met Bluebird.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0109, Bellisaria, Corsica, Paper Soap, Soap

a farmer and his dog

They’re building a roadway to heaven, these Harmony Heighters, but it seems a long way from finished. Maybe the oldies and young’n’s can’t agree on a direction, wouldn’t it be typical.

The road begins here, just behind the Commons House.

“I’m not talking to you this morning, *kid*,” grumpily spoke just risen Jack Pants without turning around, digging into his first stack of sausage pancakes.

“No, I’m not talking to *you*, gramps,” responded up-at-crack-of-dawn sixteen year old Nick Barkley also without pivoting, having finished his blueberry yogurt and granola breakfast 3 hours ago and just staring into space and killing time before the typically delayed group meeting.

Nick got little sleep on account of Jack DJ’ing at the ranger house until 2:30 in the morning, starting with the traditional “B-I-N-G-O”, which the oldies sang with gusto at the top of their lungs after a completed game of same.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0109, Nautilus, Upper Austra^

Bushhhhh

I was told to meet him at the end of a long and dusty road. I said the name of the plant that appeared to be burning in front of me instead of the man.

“Nooooo,” he rasped. “I’mmm just *talllking* through thisss. Loookkk cloooosssser. Commme herrree.”

It was the voice of the father this time. I knew I was in deep doo doo trouble.

—–

“I remember how I got brain damage,” he said to her afterwards. “It was a fire; I got too close.”

“Good good,” she replied. “Now maybe those old wounds will heal — Can.” Only those quite close to him called him by that name, he remembered. She edged closer and gently touched the holey hair. Soon maybe no one else can get inside.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0109, The Waste^^