Slowly but surely it’s all coming together. Reality links up with the reality inside of it. Fannntastic.
More details to come. Stay tuned!
Alysha quickly found out there were no other Asians except herself in this village of 765 above the northern shores of Starfish Lake/Sea. Officer Herbert Brownstone gave her a steady stare as he passed the window of the coffee shop walking his regular beat. He made a note she was reading something, and that she was with an avatar dressed up like Santa Claus, perhaps her father but perhaps not. He would double back in about 15 minutes and check again, perhaps go in this time and ask a couple of questions while being nonchalant about it. “Where do you hail from, little girl. *Hell*?” Nah, that kind of joke would work with the joes down at the squad house. But not in public. Not after Santa Fe.
Seeing someone different and stand out-ish in the village always made him think of Big Smoke. The courts told him and his blue buddies they couldn’t call him Big *Black* Smoke any more, although he definitely *was,* pheh. On vacation now, he’d heard. Maybe he won’t come back this time. Probably visiting his brother or his cousin who lives somewhere down below the Lake, he thinks. Policepeople like to keep tabs on those that are different. He’d heard rumors there was a gay now out in Sector N above the church and mortuary. Perhaps time to expand his beat to take in Burro Alley again.
HOOPA ULLA . Former Choctaw town . From Choctaw opa , owl , ola , hooting .
I am so TILE right now.
But I need someone here to help me enjoy it. Blackbyrd Beach, eh? And a Black Lives Matter sign just west, or what can be called the northeast corner of Southwest, Nautilus (continent) that is. For we may be completing the corners of the continent tonight, a rough outline of a square, or a circle and a square together: squaring the circle. That’s what this is all about, after all. Back to who will be joining me. W will fill out the rest.
While we’re waiting, let’s check out that map of the area.
The central island Jeffrey Phillips is merrily floating in a TILE Pool upon will be called OWL, and perhaps represent a backwards world, not technologically but just reversed, as is the name of Jeffrey Phillips himself looking from the direction of “Twin Peaks”. For there it is, of course, Phillip Jeffries, the famous head of the infamous Blue Rose Task Force… who doesn’t want to talk about Judy and her slippery shoes. Death! Almost forgot that Jeffrey needs to figure out the hows and whys of his own so that it won’t be repeated. He was a slipperman. He fell to his death on Corton, a Far Eastern island — actually two islands, larger and smaller — of Linden design.
“Dead of night, eh?” Not a girl but Marty. Work before pleasure I suppose.
“Hop on,” and we turned into a ship.
(to be continued)
2 days earlier, Jeffrie Phillips knew he had to arrive 1st at the Brilliant fairy village. If it was to survive and even thrive. Take me to your leader, he thought, but without a snicker. This was dead serious stuff. Fern would be arriving two days later and for all he knew, she would strip all the foliage off these protective trees and expose the wee people here to the relentless sun and rain for who knows how long. Years. Jeffrie Phillips had a name. Richie. Richie Griffith. He didn’t know if that was the leader or a representative of him or her. No doubt the village residents had been alerted to his presence on the edge of their compound. Best just to wait here at this rock. He brought a book along for the trip. “Gulliver’s Travels.”
He became so engrossed in the book that he didn’t see them approach with tiny pitchforks and rope.
“Wheeler will be my downfall, um…”
“*I’m* Wheeler,” spoke the person across from him, not wearing a red dress but we’ll assume she’ll be in one soon enough. At the Red Dress Diner. In New Eden. Probably.
“Right, right, I remember now. Like a wheel. 12:37.” He looks at his left shoulder. No spark. He was up too high.
“Man About Time,” spoke Wendy/Wheeler, saying the correct name the first time ’round. “Do you (even) know where you are?” She stared at him, red hair if not red dress. Very red.
“Downfall,” MAT muttered, noticing the same. “I’m MacDonald. I did something to the Ind– indigenous people of this great land.” Now: red on my hands, he realized. Blood on my face, yech.
“We’re not in Canada,” measured out Wendy/Wheeler. “That’s Toddles and Peet Archer, traveling across (its) frozen Heartland, waiting for a chance. And now they have it. The wife said, ‘pick a town, pick *one* town’. And so Picton it is. But after the Green Yard, er, Yarn in the middle of town…”
“Picturetown,” MAT recalled. “I remember that much.”
“Don’t forget it. Because it won’t change back.”
MAT then saw too much at the crossing. Twins — he had picked the wrong one to converse with today. Someone had warned him about the wrong dress. The one without blood. Without blame?
“End of Time,” Wendy/Wheeler said after the moment, about the place they were in. “We have crossed over.”
MAT looked past his left shoulder at the askew windows of the treehouse they sat in, remembering that too. A spark of memory. 12:37. Dinner time.
But Wendy/Wheeler couldn’t cook worth shite. Fast food hamburgers it was again.
Toothpick’s best friend from high school Mr. Z returns to his home of Meat City after extensive world travel. Note the masks on his pack representing every continent he’s visited. Fra- Fra- Francis tells him he’s can’t get in the club because he’s not a member but he says he just wants to use the phone and he won’t look at anything he isn’t suppose to. He remembers the pay phone from days gone by. He remembers (Fra- Fra-) Francis as well, the only black kid in his 5 child class who use to train ants to wage war in his playdough fort. Good days, good times. Francis remembers them too; he lets Mr. Z pass through after a stern warning. “Don’t look at the girls,” he requests almost under his breath. “They’ll remember. They’ll report me. Don’t look at them,” he repeats and then steps aside after a lengthy, glary stare. Mr. Z recalled that stare from his ant vs. wasp battles with Francis back in the days. The wasps never stood a chance. Mr. Z promises he won’t look at the girls. He knows something much worse than ants awaits if he does. Fra- Fra- Francis has evolved beyond his childhood times into something much more adult oriented.
He couldn’t help himself. He glanced over while talking to Toothpick (aka Filbert — *not* to be confused with Filburt! (he’s different)) about his journey to the Eleph Trunk and finding Venus and Mars combined into one. “Oh God,” he then sputters into the receiver, “is that Aunt Fannie over there?” He looks away quickly but not fast enough. Aunt Fannie has eyes in the back as well. He recounts why she is so named as he hangs up the phone and scuttles out the door.
Baker’s new friend Appleyon eyeing the Second Life globe spinning ’round the top of Teepot’s schoolhouse tower and noticing there’s no Orient to go along with the Occident. Pre-June 2009 he determined. Before *apples* became oranges, ha ha. He he he. Ho ho ho ho.
Axis felt it should be *him* sitting there, talking to Kind Of. Not this Prof. *Young* Harris. Young, indeed. Gone around the South Bend if you ask him, far far from the North, pheh. But it is what it is at this point. Let’s focus in on the conversation.
“I haven’t been to Strange Creek in a long long time, Mr. Messed Up 02.”
“*Kind Of* Messed Up 02,” Kind Of corrects, knowing he wasn’t — yet — on the nutty level of his master actually named Messed Up. He kind of explains this to Prof. Young Harris, then, who nods in semi-understanding.
“I had a mother once, who was kind and then messed up. I think I understand.”
Kind Of moved on. He said things were even weirder in Strange Creek these days, thus the furthering of the name. “It’s *Stranger*,” he punctuates.
Prof. Young Harris then has an idea, and points up in a Eureka moment. “Cyan!” he exclaims quite loudly, pricking Axis’ ears even more.
He imagines his wife standing before him. “What have I done?” he asks. “*I* had to be Young Kane instead. The transgressions.” He shakes his head while she stares steady. He thinks he should probably get back to her…