“It’s gonna take a while for the (new) city over there to settle down and become stabilized. An active owner doesn’t really help as well. Unless…”
“… she becomes an ally for the cause,” Baker Bloch playing the role of Ditch Parkly finishes, but then adds: “Probably not going to happen.”
“Nah,” Wheeler quickly agrees to that last part.
After a pause, Baker spoke back to Wheeler while looking over his shoulder: “I wonder what we did to those BoShek castle people over there to piss them off?”
Wheeler sighs without directly answering this time. “Everything seems to be closing up for us in this Southwest location,” she states plainly, about ready to move on and forget all about this section of the continent. A refocusing on Urqhart or thereabouts seems a logical choice, given Collagesity is there now. Focus on who’s in *that* town and what they’re doing and what they’ve been up to. She pitches this to Baker/Ditch.
“I’m worried Hucka Doobie,” spoke Baker Bloch to what was obviously his closest confidant these days, with Baker Blinker over the hill and far far away back in Chilbo with Karoz. He points to the newspaper with the missing piece.
“This plot is more full of holes than a Swiss Cheese Mountain in Ant Town.”
Hucka Doobie looks over at him with, love? She is more aware every day that he is the one. The chiseled face, the sloping debonair hat that originally came from a Rhinestone Cowboy. The leftover traits from his father Spaced Ghost, including the power bands and the, well, she’s heard rumors anyway.
“Listen to that music from the gramophone,” she said, trying to distract. “It’s called — ‘Melancholy’. Originally etched on a 4×4 magic square but in 1961 committed to a round piece of wax and released to the world. 365 singers for 365 days. And those *bells*…” She listens again, lost in a trance. Nap time, like when you meditate but can’t shut off your thoughts.
“It’s very nice, Hucka Doobie,” Baker spoke plainly in his announcer-like voice, just made for a tv or radio show. Just like his dad. “But we have *problems*.”
Hucka Doobie looked at him again. No love in his eyes for her. She knew the rumors to be false, perhaps started by Wheeler herself, the *bitch*. No, she must think peace and love and happiness thoughts. Like the Tibetans she’s been so engrossed in lately. That music — so soothing. She’s almost cutting the z’s again — but, *no*, she must stay alert. She stares at Baker Bloch once more. No reciprocation — yes, that’s what she was thinking about. Then the bells start…
15 minutes later, Baker Bloch was staring at her through the hole in the paper when she awoke. “*Now*?” he queried.
Unlike the others, Sister Martha Lamb’s feet were about to touch ground. The imaginary dragon behind her issued a final roar of disapproval before fading out of existence. Dream becomes reality. “You may pass,” the gatekeeper gruffed when seeing soles to stone, and she crossed the threshold into Southwest Castle,
hell heaven bent on finding the royal child and bringing her home to her true flock.
“Not *you* Strummy,” he then joked to the man now behind her whose legs remain embedded up to his calves.
I stared over at what I assumed was the rising sun, stunning; pink.
I looked back from whence I had just trekked and spotted the fire tree, high on a summit.
This place was special. I didn’t know if I would be coming back….
Walking through the ruined village gave me chills. What does this mean?
This reminded me of something. An Omega place. Omegatown. I wish the sun would hurry up and rise properly to guide me home!
The wee person’s house, probably (belonging to) Norris himself. And now they’re also with me!
I can see my home now…
… but how to get down from here?
And where did the f-ing sun go?? Must have been the moon.
Kevin Orchardsity A., C., and E. Only one can survive and move forward.
Also: Only one can Read.
“Gunn… Mobile… *Trailer Park*. Hey guys? Come take a look at this.” He looks around the shelter to see no one else. “Kevin C.? Kevin E.?
Well where’d they go?”
“War-HALL,” he exclaimed from his chair opposite Ross C.’s, or at least the one she stood behind. “Not War-HOLE.”
“I will correct that in my programming, sire.” But she never did. To her he would always be a hole with capital letters. She’d served him too long.
“Anything else Mr. Warhole?”
He sighed. “No. You may retired for the night. *Behind* your chair again.”
“As you wish, sire.” Her lights went out as she slumped over in place.
“You again (!)”
The Julia House here on Artist Alley would have been perfect for Karoz and Baker Blinker during their stay in Collagesity. But it was best Wheeler moved it to Green Squirrel and Human’s property over in Asha to protect the Rosehaven Yarn Shop. Soon to be just Yarn Shop, because toys are coming: Yarn Knob, etc.
50 extra prims for the town, though. What will I do with it?
I’ve looked everywhere on God’s beige earth for them. But I’m not going down there to North Yd to check. Not after what I saw last year with Tessa. Gold to Platinum.
Better head back home in the narrow boat-plane. Maybe refuel first over at Sparky’s since it’s nearby.
Ooops! Knocked over a couple of gas pumps again. Oh well. Nothing scars this old babe. Except that cursed dune of April Mae’s. Must be some kind of magic dune, and in the wrong way, hmph. Probably some voodoo connected to the aberant Omega continent itself. “Sparky!” Monsieur Gold calls through the station’s open door while honking his horn. “Sparky! It’s happened again!”
Now where is *she*?
“Zoidboro!” cries little Raphaelia Jenkinson from a nearby garage bay, flickering merrily in her red dress beside similarly wind-blow, yellow cat Ziggy Dustbowl. “Zoidboro!” she repeats.
In the basin immediately below…
… Sally the Spark O Naut (“Sparky”) has waited a long time for Reverend Zoidboro to start preaching. Two days, in fact, since this is Tuesday. But she’s decked up in her Sunday best and dearly hates to needlessly change clothes.
5 more minutes, she thinks. Maybe 5 hours.
It was a most remarkable coincidence (again). I knew Baker Blinker, er, *Furry Karl* had to get from Horizons-Pluto to New Island by boat, probably with a woman companion in tow, but couldn’t figure out how they’d exit the Horizons subcontinent’s 4th and southernmost region, the “hookless” one (explain that in a little bit), and into Zindra proper. Do they turn east or west at the bottom? I figured east, but there was nothing in that direction.
Then by accident I stumbled upon a portal tonight that solved the tricky problem — or Wheeler did. She decide that Lou would be the best character to play this particular role, and also rezzed Norris beside her as a sounding board for ideas.
“What do we do now?” asked the bleached face Norris to his sitting companion.
“We simply wait here at the canal. It’s already set up. Baker Blinker will never make it out of the Horizons sub-continent by boat. We’ll make sure of that.”
“Cool, I suppose.”
She smiles while watching the dance of rippled water beneath her pale, dangling feet. No choice to make now.
The Musician as Sikul Himakt was having that dream about roses again. Scene: VHC City; The Diagonal.
He sits in front of a video game featuring the Rising Sun with an odd retro cartoon punk who speaks Japanese.
In the dream he understands him. “There’s no side to choose,” he says as the game remains unplayed. Tiny Hermania looks down from the center of her rose tinted world, protesting the idea. “Choose!” she calls while hanging from a vine.
He grasps the red joystick opposite the green one. Pain! They were at the island tree, then. The Musician once again shows the cartoon punk the wound on his outturned hand.
The other hand he keeps to himself.
“I will remove the thorn and make this one better too,” he says, still speaking somehow understandable Japanese. The Musician starts to wake up. “I will make this better.”
He stares up at
Chroma Jimmy, who is wrapping his left hand. The right one has already been bandaged. He sits on the Asian couch at their lodgings. Jimmy chatters while continuing his twirlings. “As I said, I’m a physicist not a physician. But I worked with a man at the Australian Astronomical Observatory who studied stellar anomalies in the Southern Cross for years. Same thing happened to his hands, and also his side. Stigmata it’s called. Identification with the crucified Christ.” The Musician was about to protest that he wasn’t religious when Jimmy guessed the confusion. “Doesn’t matter about your faith. Something else is behind it. Philip wasn’t religious either, but he was a fanatic. Of science. Perhaps that’s all it takes. And… there, that should do it. The bleeding doesn’t seem to be stopping but it’s slowed down. Maybe that’s all we can ask of this condition, if yours tracks with Philip’s.”
“And stay away from that blasted island!” added Wheeler forcefully behind him.