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Category Archives: 0201
00470201 (explorers)
“We can’t go back to Holland again?” he questions, staring at the newest image on the screen.
“Oh Eddy, we can’t even get to the top of Mt. Sandraman without being distracted, much less another place in another world. Be here in the here and now. Be Free.”
“Let’s go!” he urged. But he stood still.
—–
“Oh look, the image is changing into something else we know. Wallytown. On (nearby) Fishers Island. Remember?”
“Of course I remember,” responded Shelley, still standing behind him in her finest cashmere bathrobe, still waiting on a decision. Where to go, where to go? Somewhere away from *here*. Or at least go to that hill that likes to call itself a mountain *within* here, pheh. She tires of being chained as an object. 6 6 6 is over. It’s now 7. Freedom.
But they stood still.
—–
Too late, Eddy. Too late. The dream Spider has arrived.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0201, Europe, Holland, New Island^, Wallytown/Fishers Island^
00460201 (time reversal)
—–
“Well it’s just beautiful hair, Ms…”
“Wilson,” said Wheeler. “Wheeler Wilson.”
“Like the dams, then,” responded stylist Sep to this.
“And the Vice-Presidents, ha (!).”
“Oh yes, that too,” said Sep, barely remembering the latter fact from her “1800s Sex/History Education” elective humanities class taken over at the local college along with all the cosmetology ones needed for that associate degree. “Soo… what’ll it be today?” Marveling Sep was thinking while continuing to wash: I personally wouldn’t change a thing if I had such luxurious locks.
“Chop it all off (internal gasp from Sep?). Dye it pink. In *short*, I want the Butterfly. Number 25. I saw it on your ad.”
“Oh, *very* popular. All the Butterflies are selling well currently. Must be the Spring in the air. Time of transformation,” she waxed philosophically. “Change.” Washing done now, Wheeler sits up as Sep begins to towel her dry.
“Indeed.” This long hair Magika style is for the winter, Wheeler thinks. She wants her scalp to breathe now. Sunlight; warmth. And… a new man. Who is the same as the old man. Old Man Newt, ha, distinctive in his growing greyness. Will meet him next. Under the parrots, or as close as they could get.
—–
“What do you think?”
“Perfect.” But while saying this she was looking at the reflection of the guy in the next chair over instead of her own. So familiar. Where had she seen him before? And why was he just sitting there instead of getting his own hair cut or styled? Queer.
(to be continued)
00450201 (stone’s throw away from something)
“Shoot man, you don’t know *nothing* about Doggtown, choom. Buy something from a poor ol’ peddler of junk and I’ll tell you all the places to go, not to go. Mainly the latter because there’re so many of *those* around, huh.”
“What’s with all the flamingos around here?”
“Don’t get me started (!). Flamingos been around since before the beginning. Killed all the birds within a 10 miles radius of town because of that a-vi-ar-y flu, you know. No flamingos around any more. They’re ghosts. Heck, *I’m* a ghost. Anyway…”
This is Ronald. He mentioned business being down because the whole town is chasing after a VIP named Roslyn (sp?) whose plane crashed nearby. The flamingo perpetually behind his head is colored pink, which is close to lavender. Another thing we are close to, then, is Twin Peaks. Only a reference to Northern Exposure in some way remains to seal the deal. I’ll keep looking.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0201, C2077, Doggtown, Washington
00440201
“My treehouse! Not… real. Sinking. Sink-ing. “No. No no no no…
“… NOOooooooooo!”
Aeriel woke up in a cold sweat on the very spot she just fell into the void in her dream, voices all around and not in a good way. This would not do. She needed to make contact with the Mother(ship) hovering far above to make all this more, well, solid. Time for her weekly bi-meeting anyway. Two birds with one stone, a bird in the bush, so on.
—–
“You will not stay long enough to make it worthwhile,” the almost torso-less but still lab coat wearing Mother said bluntly of the treehouse she had constructed, along with… her sister? And where was?… oh no. Oh NO. The dream was *real*. The *sister* who remained in the fantastical world had fallen into the void; they’d drawn straws over who would stay there before the Earth trip. She’d forgotten which is which, and that, in the end, it all goes round and round, dreams merging with reality and visa versa. Just like Oz.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0201, Oz, VOTV
00430201 (model 2.0)
She came here in a boat…
… but not that one.
—–
“A new creator this time, boss. One called The Martian. Name is meaningful too, because it tells me how he got inside the glitch. Piggyback. On another content creator, Daydreaming Gamer in this case. Overlap. So I’ll fast forward a bit and start you with the flamingos. You’ll see the same during the day soon. But this is a way they get highlighted.”
“I see.” He knew they were approaching the glitch.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0201, C2077, City Center, Hana Lei^^, Heyworth, Nightsity, Rancho C
there’s levels to it
Brngg brngg! Brngg Brngg!
Damn, she thought. And I was just starting to enjoy myself.
“Hallo?”
—–
She walks past the filing cabinets, A-M on the right, N-Z to the left. Or was A-L and M-Z? Anyway, the Big Boss said the file wasn’t in them. Check the dumpster, he said. Or was it a she?
—–
Alright I’m here, she thought. F-ck, gonna have to pay a visit to the chiropractor again after this. They knew they were dealing with an almost 67 year old woman, didn’t they?
“They” did. When she stood up out of the dumpster after finding no file there: retirement. Reassigned to inactivity on a different continent, her services needed no more. Another would have to be assigned.
new home
—–
“Hallo? Yes, Mr. (Mrs.?) Johnston. I’ll retrieve that file posthaste.” Good back, he (she?) noticed when hiring. Good legs. She’ll do swell.
(to be continued?)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0201, Back Rooms, Heterocera, Omega^^, Southern, The Cross^
00410201
The day after Thanksgiving. Normalcy returns to the small virtual village of Amiable with plenty of leftover goodies from the festival, a huge success. Corn shucked, weighed and balanced, and then baked into bread and other products; sweet roots based music produced aplenty; sweets and refreshments served all around.
—–
“Offer you a drink, Doctor?”
“Not now Victoria.” He wanted to keep his eyes glued to the front of the club, for Dr. Grayson was waiting on someone, another doctor he assumed. The place: Cass City, queen burg of Satori’s Deep South. The time: 1939 apparently. Just before the great war that never was. Thanks to the book.
Dr. Mouse walks into the Serapis Club. “Check your coat, Doctor?”
“Not now, Victor.” He had a mission to fulfill. Bring what he assumed was another doctor up to speed. And then have him take his place. Hopefully.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0201, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori, Teepot^^
00400201
“Say’s here in the paper there’s a 2 fer 1 special on Amazon products down at the mall. We better go snag us some more exotic rain forest flowers, boys!”
“Here here,” they said kind of jointly, kind of as one. How to differentiate?
“Stew dogs’ ready!” called the one at the grill. That was Eddie, then (00330201). Different from Edward, like D’Aigle is different from Daigle. And *that* is her chosen boyfriend. Edward was just here for the hand off, the negotiation or price. No, let’s say he’s a cousin just come for a visit. Or maybe an old lover pretending to be a cousin if Edward and Eddie are or were gay. Where did it all get started?
When it stopped; Marsha’s VW bug that is. Stuck in the sand — should have traded yellow vehicles with neighbor Mrs. Ordinary (aka Bethany, Ginger) while she had the chance. Drifts were often high on the edges of Big Sandy where beige spills over into green. Like today, a windier one thanks to the northeaster coming into shore from the west, from the direction of the USS Galaxy, duplicated both in sea and in space. Just came back from a journey to the Pleiades, which I believe is a star constellation formation (thanks Dolores!).
Eddie was grilling then as well, watched her spin her tires trying to get out of a predicament. Stew dogs done, he put down the spatula and walked over to help.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0201, Bellisaria, Sandfly, Sirens Isles
00390201
Weird she can see the lower tip of Beatrice from here, she thinks. Where she, in fact, comes from (novel 38; on a white horse). She checks the distance on the inworld map in her, um, mind. Over 200 meters away still, and her draw distance used here is only 64 to reduce lag in an urban area. She thinks again of Constantinople, the *real* thing, and her graphically talented, er, doppelganger. Here incarnated as Myrtle Beech out on the southern tip of *this* island. Another 200 meters or so in the opposite direction.
She moves to the opposite window of the upper floor of her new (!) apartment, important furniture purchase finished. It all revolves around, well, the central affair which is not an affair atall. She smiles at the irony. She can continue with her romance novel 39 and keep the marriage to Arthur intact. She can have her cake and eat it too. She came here, in effect, in 2 boats at once. But what really was this island she now exists on with her others? Constants? Close enough.
Arthur will be home soon from job hunting. Better get back to the interwebs and do some more research before he arrives (she decides). Hogs the whole living room with his applications and such. Great views, but — drawback — small apt. Barely room for the bed upstairs. And what about a kitchen? She’s *not* sharing an oven and a fridge with that big headed dude downstairs (!).
Strange, she think while staring from the couch now (*not* new). The entire Smipsons family shows up at the bottom of the store’s page but no sign of Al or Sarah’s avatar, hmm. Oh, she realizes. No adult content here; she’s not signed in to the Marketplace. And Al and Sarah are certainly adults now after what happened at the Homeless Union last night, away from Cowboy’s still drunk presence. Who cares if he chokes on his own vomit, Sarah thinks while packing her duffle bag for an overnight stay, looking down on him writhing about on the stained bed, murmuring something about Wanda and Gloria giving him 2 rides between snores and incoherent utterances. I bet they did, she thinks with vile, harking back to that afternoon and the beach and the lateness of his appearance and his *appearance* when he arrives. Drunk off his tits. “I bet they did,” she hisses aloud before stomping out, thinking this is at *least* a 2 night absence now. Maybe forever; probably so.
Back to the family…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0201, Ashton Village, Bellisaria, Constantynople, Kidd Tower, Nautilus, Rank & File
Sunklands 