“Have you two ever thought about getting married yourself? I mean, in real life?”
—–
“You don’t understand, honey. I’m — already — here.”
“No matter how many times—”
“Here. Let me lift you up so that you can see better over these vines.”
“Th-there’s a man standing up there, Keith. On *our* roof. Staring directly at me — us.”
“Yeah. I know.”
He turns.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0206, Witcher
They got the green light for the project even thought the base plans were still a bit up in the air.
Fern Stalin, playing the role of Dr. Kelp at least in section 02 of this here photo-novel, cussed because she couldn’t get inside to take a better look-see. Restricted. In fact about all the interiors of the Krypton sim seem to be that way, except for the naval hospital. So she decided to break a leg.
“Ow ow ow,” she acted for the night doctor. Idontknow I believe, which is perhaps Turkish. “Fix it fix it *Fix it*!”
They tried to take an x-ray but she squirmed around in so much fake pain that they couldn’t get a clear image. “Dr. Kelp — *please*, Idontknow pleaded, having to enter the scene again after retreating to his office to let the techs take over. “If you could just hold steady for a moment. I know it hurts.”
“You don’t *know* the pain,” she barked through a grimace. “No, just get me a wheelchair. I’ll come back later when a different doctor is on the clock. I don’t like your attitude.” She grimaced again, yelped in pretend pain a bit once more.
“Dr. Kelp, if you’d just–”
“Do it!” she commanded at the top of her lungs. The techs working on floors 1 and 3 turned their eyes upward and downward respectively, wondering about the noise. Dr. Idontknow thought he had no choice.
“Get her a wheelchair,” he said to his 2nd floor techies who were staring straight on. Let her circle around the hospital a couple of times with that leg, he thinks. She’ll be back soon enough.
“I’ll need a pass to get back in,” she said as they slid her into the seat.
“Well, actually–,”
“Do it!”
And so they gave her a pass even though she didn’t actually need one to return. They were trying to quiet her down in any way possible, her plan all along. Once she got in the wheelchair, she took the elevator down to the first floor…
… and was out of there, putting its little electric motor on full throttle on the way back to the room with the up-in-the-air military personnel about 200 yards away. Her plan to get to those plans worked (!). She was so pleased with herself. Dr. Idontknow, pheh, she thought. 3rd shift indeed.
“What???” more competent Dr. Who screamed in the morning when he arrived upon learning about the missing patient and wheelchair. “Yes sir?” answered 2nd shift Dr. What standing not far behind him, having to come in early for a personnel meeting. Dr. Idontknow also decided to stick around from 3rd to attempt an explanation for the situation. And then non-shift Dr. Why showed up out of left field to join the discussion, surprising everyone. And then the whole thing ended with all of them actually not caring, go figure.
Fern, base plans stolen before the military personnel’s eyes with more trickery, was home free.
What a convoluted joke! But it worked.
Now to build this aerial thing, she thought back in her own hanger.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0205, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City
He and Slop sat there for the longest time. He kept the truck running in the cool Autumn morning, almost completely rusted over from the Blue Feather Sea salt and brine. The heat was set to medium high. The radio was tuned to the local KLXC station and its blend of medium rock and high jazz. Even the worn seat of his truck was set to same (medium high) so he could sit up and see the road better in his older age. Slouching more, he recognized. Uncle Barnacles, so named for his crusty attitude, also perhaps brought on by his own proximity to the same salty, upper central Maebaeleia continent body of water named before, had his back turned on the “creature” on purpose. He had a crate to deliver, per his new job, but he didn’t want to go over there, get any closer. “Slop,” he said to his riding companion, a droopy hound with almost as complex of personality, “I can feel it. Even if I can’t see it. You hear that hum? That’s it. Some say, Slop, it’s *comforting*. Imagine that,” he spat out with bile. Slop slopped an agreeing bark in his face, pelting it lightly with saliva, which Uncle Barnacles was use to. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
2 hours later, he’d managed to turn the truck around and face it on the upper lot of the same parking deck, but on the opposite side of where he could get a direct look. He was trying to get use to the idea of being here, of working for the people who decided to create this whole megalopolis centered around it. Or working on it, super city creation in progress. “1st crate and I’ve already got cold feet,” he complained to Slop again. “Might as well turn in my badge and get paid for my 1/2 day’s work. Maybe, hmm, maybe I’ll just leave the crate here, in the parking deck, and tell them where it’s at. Whaddaya say, Slop?” Another light splatter of spit. The crate was unloaded and they were outta here, returned to the sea of which they were so much a part of now.
“Another one lost,” human resources director and more A. Pond lamented later back at the office, staring at the still moist security badge. “Well, if the locals are spooked by the thing then we’ll just have to hire more outside workers, preferably ones desperate for a job. Her thoughts turned southward, beyond the continent’s old Neutral Zone. Slums of Hatton, as she derogatorily called it in her Northern way, might do for a start.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0204, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City
https://www.reddit.com/r/Voicesofthevoid/comments/1en5q2b/wha_the_hell_is_this/?rdt=43388
Question: what the hell is this?
Best answer (right answer): that’s where the voices of the void come from
And here is where Our Second Lyfe begins outstripping this more modern game in importance. Because this hole… actually comes from that. A whole super city in the upper right central part of the Maebaleia continent of that virtual world is being built around the phenomenon. Lab coat wearing Dr. Kelp and her companion A. Pond look on.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0203, Maebaleia/Satori, VOTV, X-City
All was right with the Earth…
… until Day 27 when its cube was transferred into the Sun where it didn’t belong. Atall. Trees began to wilt, skin began to welk; our protagonist ran indoors and locked the doors and shut all the windows from the evil black shine, desperate for survival.
I theorize the malignant event has something to do with this pond, seen from the north at 0:14 in the same video…
… and then from the other direction in a more aerial view precisely 1 minute later.
And in-between — 30 seconds from each of these images — a blood spurt producing STAB…
… which happens to be connected with SLAB in another “minute earlier” video synchronicity (see top screen capture).
Where have we seen the second one from the left before? Oh yeah, in section one of this here photo-novel where our protagonist Dr. Kelp dug it up from under a green bush with a spade gathered from a red bush and gave it to the aliens in the triangle ships so that they could leave our planet of Earth after understanding its shape was a cube and not a sphere as previously assumed, flight calculations altered accordingly. Which brings us back to the top of this here post. What can *we* assume about its round and round nature? Let’s try to put ourselves in the shoes of the visiting aliens, hmm?
And what about the sister who fell into the void with all those voices? What happened to her? So let’s get back to that pond.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0202, VOTV
“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
The moment Fern realized she was in the story too.
“The 3rd ball!” she exclaimed aloud in the Martian rust and dust. “I use to work there!”
Just around the corner from the big spool, in fact. She’d witnessed that same adventure too, watched it roll by outside her windows, heard the noise of the crash. Even talked to Frank at the time, encouraged him to keep on with his writing even though he didn’t have the table he wanted. They both looked down at the jagged pieces of wood lying all about, remnants of the object. The car that hit it in front of the car wash had moved on with minimal damage. But the dream: broken. It was up to Fern to help put the pieces of his life back together, have them make sense to himself and, eventually, to others through his art. This was raw, this was a plateau of raw. In short, she planted a seed, yes. She remembers.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0217, GTA, MARS
Fern sits down with the red book given to her by Teebestia day before yesterday’s yesterday and opens it up to the bookmark. The Martian sky was particularly rust colored today, she noted at her outdoor location, picked for privacy. Just like author Frank Lynn seeked in same before starting the work in his own backyard upon a table of not spool but it would have to do. She pulls out her knife to check the color. Yeah, she thinks, spying nothing above the handle in her hand. Definitely a rusty one. Better sheath this quick before she gets caught. Don’t want to show out a Cleveland boner, as they say. She could be president, she reminded herself. Beginning with finding the Diablo-Draco reversal in that black list of the 2 quick as a wink, unlike our friendly but dense former porn star turned nudist who was destined for a lowly one instead. The Tennessee Blue Balls sculpture in Lost Sanos is an interesting, new development, she feels — right there on page 43 and not 42 where it should be to answer all. Displaced on purpose. One after, again. Like her ship taken in here this day of mid June’s May, with unrecognized and unknown Edward Daigle only a couple of rows back, on a mission of his own. She looks down and begins to read again.
—–
I had to walk by the object basically every time I went downtown so of course I was going to start thinking about how to make it my own, what I’d do with it if it were mine. First off, it was round, not square or rectangular like most tables. I could plan my Great American Novel as a circle, like a zodiac or something. I had rough ideas. All started with Redd of course, but then worked its way around to blue (Page). Then there was the ultraviolet gap to end — how to complete the thing. The last shock.
If I could just figure out how to get it to the house, I thought at the time. Too big to get into my car. Dense head that I was, I didn’t even think about borrowing Stinch’s uncle’s cousin’s pickup truck who lives out in Grapeshot in some kind of trashy trailer park or something with a bunch of white red necks. I figured I had to roll it, but maybe that was all part of the art. Because I ended up fitting that adventure into the book as well.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0216, GTA, MARS
The generally accepted rule is pink for the boys, and blue for the girls. The reason is that pink, being a more decided and stronger color, is more suitable for the boy, while blue, which is more delicate and dainty, is prettier for the girl.
–Ladies Home Journal, 1918
“One question, brother of mine. Why does it have to be blue?”
“Because pink doesn’t work,” answered left horned Jer to right horned Benny. Opposite in so many other ways too. “I tried it with Evelyn. You know what happened to Evelyn.”
“Sure I do. She turned into a boy.”
“Did you know,” said Jer, “that in the early part of the last century the colors were reversed and that pink belonged to boys and blue to girls?”
“Sure. We know that *now*.”
“After Evelyn, yeah.”
“After Evelyn,” echoes Jer’s weight challenged brother. But he doesn’t seem to mind. He can have all the girls he wants anyway, thanks to the power.
“If we want to get back to 1919, this is the way to do it. 1 after the 909.”
“Word.”
1 year earlier:
“W–what happened to the Hills, Jer?”
“We’ve *failed*.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0043, 0215, HANA LEI, NIGHTSITY
“Yo’ don’t understand. I want dat spool table. Dat shitz my f-in’ ticket out o’ here.”
“Fool. Why the f- yo’ talkin’ all gansta n’ all today? Yo’ sound like Stinch!”
“Hey, Stinch be lowballin’ us. Lowballin’ us shizzle like da bottom feedin’ pyramid dwellers we r’.”
“Can yo’ speak a lil’ plainer, Frank. I mean, yo’re use ta me talkin’ ghetto. Yo’ have a built in translator bcuz’ o’ yo’ goddamn mutha. My f-in’ muthaz from Leeds n’ datz in f-in’ England or somethang.”
“*All* *right*. *Is* *this* *bet*-*ter*? *Can* *you* *under*-*stand* *me* *now*?” He even affects a bit of an English accent to further the switch for his hood-pal Laramie with his present Leeds mother and absent Watts father, hood in both the neighbor and child meaning back there.
“Yeah biatch, datz betta muthaf-a. Naw say what the f- yo’ gotta say.”
“You don’t understand. I want that spool table. That object is my bloody ticket out of here!”
“There yo’ go!” returned Laramie to Frank, matching excitement with excitement and glad his talk turned from murky to clear. Now they can go get that table, roll it through the streets back over to here if needed. About 100 yards, Laramie estimated in his mind. Trick is crossing 5 lane Innocence Blvd. with it. But if they can drive a car 120 mph through heavy city traffic, he figures they can pull off this. It will be fun for a change. What if the police even catch them? What are they gonna do? *Laugh*?
2 days later:
“Whoa nelly, dat mo f- a done got away from us, Frank!” CRAAAAASH!
Oh well. Better it than them, I suppose. But Frank’ll have to find another yard table in which to write his Great American Novel on. The book of Redd with all those pages about likewise hood-pal Page will have to wait a little longer to start in other words.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0214, GTA
Sunklands 