He said to meet him at the Andrew Johnson Basketball Courts and that they had to talk about the worst president of our country ever. I thought I knew who he was referencing because of the courts’ name and all but the answer surprised me. Roslyn (sp?) Carter. Carter? No, Meyers. Got my presidents and their wives confused. Like thinking Roslyn C. was married to former president Ronald R. instead of her own man. Lavender got in my way. “Tailor,” he said about the president. Are we sure we’re not talking about the first guy I was thinking of? I thought. “(Tailor… ) *made* for the job,” he then finished his sentence, interrupted for a cough. Had a chance to smoke out here in the great outdoors, taking advantage of it. “Tailor… *made*?” I parroted, then waited for his reaction. He was coughing again. Between hacks, he managed to admit that he hadn’t smoked any cigs since last Thursday’s Tuesday and that it had been a long stretch of inside work since then. Nonstop. “Just like I use to smoke nonstop on my old job as an outdoor patrolman,” he wheezed. Then he squeezed out, “We have to get to Meyers,” which I took as: this has to be the focus of our conversation now. But he couldn’t stop coughing after this. Clearly we couldn’t talk here. He gave me an address for later.
Category Archives: 02
00450205
I came here looking for a ring.
—–
“Well? Answer it.”
“Hallo?”
“So you’re a man,” he answered on the other end of the line. Brusk; kind of hoarse. “Nomad?” he followed.
“Corpo.”
“Aw sh-t. I was hoping you’d be a Nomad.”
“Well I’m not. So what can I do you for.”
“*You*. You do for *me*.”
“Okay. Think that’s what I said. But, what’re you asking?”
“I need to find… The Flaringo.”
“Ringo?”
“Close enough (*click*).”
*Brinngg bringg*. Just like that. Another call coming in.
“Well?” said Jonny again by my side.
Then this when I answered: “It’s me again. Just want to let you know it was Jonny all along.” Same affected voice, pheh. Ventriloquist. What a clown!
“So when is my actual contact suppose to call, huh?” I say exasperatedly.
“Not until tomorrow, ” he said in his normal voice now, hand lowered. “In the excitement of a new town you forgot what day it was. I was just playing along. Using my, ahem, peculiar talents.”
I sighed deeply, understanding we’d have to stay one more night in that hovel of a room at the top of the pyramid Ronald recommended.
“So let’s grab some lunch. You’re buying.”
“Right Jonny, right,” I replied while walking away from the phone with him, my hallucinatory other half now.
Lemon Lime Apple Blueberry would have to wait.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0205, C2077, Charter Hills, Doggtown
00450204
I parked on pink which matched the color of my Villefort Alvarado 570 De Luxe Convertible — appropriate. Lizzy’s own even larger and more expensive gold plated wheels to match her body was already there, blocking off the parking lot as, in turn, I just blocked her in. As if she owned the place. And perhaps she does. Let’s listen in…
“So. Are you suppose to be Tin or Lead now, Lizzy? I always forget.” Sarcasm. Bitter. Evelyn hates Lizzy, Tin or not. She hates this bar too. She hates everything but that’s beside the point. Lizzy is the focus of that hate right now. Lizzy and (her?) Lizzie’s. Let’s continue to listen in…
“I’m going to answer that with a riddle, Evelyn. Ready? What’s blue and bitter and a hard pill to swallow whatever?”
“Jeez,” says thoughtful Evelyn, game for a game. “Let me see, Iiii–”
“It’s YOU. You hate everything. I just happen to be the focus of that hate right now.” Just as I thought. And I forgot that Tin is silver-ish not gold now. She’d changed with her last album about alchemy, “Coleman County Corners” or something. Country? (origin). Let’s go with France. 1/2 of the songs are set in such. There’s a really interesting one about the Eiffel Tower and how gold statuettes of the famous monument were mixed up with the ordinary lead ones by 2 thieves attempting to corner a market, but that’s another story involving Lavender. Best to leave Lavender out of it for now. Let’s stick to pink. Back to the action…
Well, they’re slapping each other now in a kind of continuous way. Both are getting a bit red cheeked already. This may not end well, may end with one of them, perhaps both of them dropping to the ground. Should I step in? I decide to step in.
“*Ladies*,” I tried to calm, walking toward them. “Ladies ladies *ladies*.” *Smack* *smack*. I was down on the ground with a double to the face, ears bloodied on both sides. I drain the blood out of at least my left ear to try to continue hearing what’s going on.
“*Right* here. *Right* now,” Lizzy was saying now about a duel, slapping ceased for the moment with my downfall. Oh dear, this was getting worse instead of better. “*10* paces. Live grenades.” Live grenades? I think with my aching head. Surely she jests. “Make it bombs, atomic bombs,” Evelyn upped the ante. “World extermination if you lose, world extermination if I lose.” Where in hell was this going?
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0204, C2077, Kabusie
00450203 (doing The Flamingo)
Art is sort of a decentralized, collective thing. Like, art is kind of a conversation with all the artists that have ever lived before you. You know, like it’s like you’re really just sort of its — it’s not like anyone’s reinventing the wheel here. Like, you’re kind of just taking, you know, thousands of years of art and, like, running it through your own little algorithm and then, like, making your interpretation of it.
“Pyramid. Know anything about it?”
“Ground floor’s open to everyone, choom. Called The Heavy Hearts Club — more to that name than meets the eye, huh — never thought about it like that.” He shakes his head, then refocuses. “But those top floors: only VIPs, the gold plated ones, huh. The ones gifted – by – the – Goooodds. And sitting at the very top like a huge glinting eye… well, um *hum*. What, child of mine, do you know about the *Suun*?”
“I– dunno, choom. Tell me about it.” I glanced at the flamingo behind his head again, knew we were entering some deeper waters. Those long legs might come in handy after all.
“I mean, *huh*. Are you a true *believer*? Or are you just a pretender, a wannabe worshipper with his religious mofo diapers still on and sh-tting those mere mortal *brown* bricks. Not the yellow ones, the golden eggs. You have to sh-t the golden eggs to be the chosen. Otherwise, you’re a wor*shitter*, ha. See what I just did there? Okay, okay,” he admits. “Not my best one. But you better believe the other parts are true. There is a shining eye at the top, choom. A shining — eyyyyye. You look into it, you better damn well be one of those chosen ones, hmph. Or else,” and he extends two fingers and pokes at his own eyes to demonstrate. “He takes your *two* to make his *ONE*, *huh* — you know what I’m saying?”
I figured I’d gotten enough out of *this* one, obviously also blinded by his own ambition. Top notch runner in his day, he explained before, only to have his body reject the new cybernetics. Another casualty of Fiona’s School for the Gifted and the Damned, as he put it. Just like that Linda boxer across the way he also told me a story about. Typhoon Ronald indeed. Living inside a past glory, old memories drowning out the present. He can’t even see what’s right behind him.
“Welp,” I said, taking one last look at the neon pink flamingo then turning toward the pyramid. “Guess it’s time to head over and see for myself.”
“Gold – plated – *sh-t*,” he ended, shaking his head again and laughing and waving me off.
Start with the ground floor, yeah. Have conversations with everyone while working my way to the top. Become a little algorithmic of all that’s ever been. Gold plated.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0045, 0203, C2077, Doggtown
00450202
Just enjoying a drink beside some pretty fluttering butterflies at Pan Estates Regional Center while waiting for my ordered money to be deposited into my account so I can pay my rent for the week. Yeah, I still have my Aisle of Palms virtual village set up in Mugunghwa over on the Jeogeot continent. Can’t quite seem to let go of it. Next decision date is 12/16/24 — next Monday. Maybe I should start saving my builds over there earlier so the decision will come easier. Because I have to derezz the place. Don’t I? I think I do. The Baker Family of (Our Second Lyfe) avatars is already spending the money I’ll save. Well, Wheeler is spending the money. More expensive furnishings in her new, basically free house in lower upper left right central Nautilus. “Let’s hope it stays longer this time,” were the last words I’ve heard from her about it. Edward D. is over there too. They bought some kind of crazy bookshelf, he said to me the last time I checked in with him as well. Tends to deform their bodies with its built-in crazy animations like martial arts, zombies, and drunkenness, he said, so they might have to send it back. Said they also bought a barrel of fairly expensive wine from somewhere called Touisant, but I knew this was a lie. Wine, yes. Barrel, yes. But not from that place with the Witcher. Not really.
Well the money shows up online but not in my in game account. Looks like I’ll have to log out and then back in to get the cash. Goodbye for now!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0045, 0202, Big Woods, Heterocera, Jeogeot, Witcher
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
00440216 (north)
“Look Lichen. It’s like our black and white lists that started the last photo-novel, 43 in a series (!).
“Lichen?
“Lichen!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0216, Althyria, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City
00440215 (Tin)
“Of course I knew Cary, of course I knew Madison,” she says more to her audience beyond the 4th wall than the actual person in the room with her. “One was the former sidekick of world famous musician Jonny Silverhhand of Sunamai, now fronting his own almost as famous band. One was the future mayor of the whole of frigg’n Nightsity itself. But how do they fuse… here in Kabusie?” She turns back to the window, staring at it as if she can see through the blinds — not blinded. “What secrets are you holding in your narrow alleys, your… canals and notwhat? Channels, something.” She blows out cigarette smoke toward it, as if trying to obscure the secrets even more.
“Well. I’m glad we cleared *that* up,” I said, watching the smoke dissipate into the blinds and the light between them.
“Yees. But you’re here for your assignment of course. Wondering when we’d ever get around to it.”
“Well…”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0215, Blue Feather Sea+, C2077, Kabusie, Maebaleia/Satori, NIGHTSITY, X-City
00440214 (Kabusie secrets)
Mr. Middle.
And then, just beyond…
“Cary?”
No, that must not have been Cary, I think, now looking at his sparkly back as I circled around. He didn’t answer me. *Surely* he would remember who I was. Didn’t even look up to meet my eyes. But… maybe he didn’t see me. Maybe he didn’t hear me. “*Cary*,” I tried more levelly and with more volume. He turned.
“See here’s where it gets *really* interesting, Lichen,” said observing Fern at their new home near the pit. “Because it’s about to happen again.”
“Mm, mhm, mhmmm,” says Lichen, since her mouth is full of popcorn but she’s still so eager to speak.
“What’s that, dearest?”
*Swallow*. “Ier ssaied, whferef’s Mfr. Middlfe?” Swallow again.
“He’s not in this one. Just watch.”
I was walking up to him again. How was this *possible*?
“Madison?”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0214, C2077, Kabusie, Maebaleia/Satori, NIGHTSITY, X-City
00440213 (head’n south)
She started talking about MUSKET as a frigg’n genius and a red flag was raised for the first real time in the 2+ hour long video. She began to round herself out where I could see the other side, the dark one we all have; made her human beyond mere whitewashed brainiac — fair deal. She then talked about the merger of technology and anatomy and told Musket to “go for it” with his related, controversial projects because it was going to happen anyway. This reminded me of all the Cyberpunk 2077 body modifications, like eye replacements (thanks a lot Blue Moon!). Musket is a genius but really only as a businessman and self-promoter, sort of like the Big Orange one he also hails, self reflecting self. Couldn’t this be a frigg’n warning from a game envisioning a dystopian future? Girlfriend Grimes is there. Grimes is the key. Musician.
But what is the warning? one might ask. What’s wrong with *worshiping technology*?
Let’s drop the cubes on the square to end.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0213, C2077, GTA, Inter Face, Kabusie, Washington
Sunklands 