Category Archives: 0311

00420311

In the middle of the night, I decided to fix the deletion issues of Aisle of Palms myself and keep it from Wheeler until later. No need to log in as her tonight too. I got rid of the damaged Temple of TILE after placing a new one atop it, moving the whole thing several yards to the south to hopefully take care of the property line issue. Planted two new palms at the pool beside it to replace the two that were deleted under similar circumstances, moving them a bit south as well. I chose not to restore the trailer on the back side of Fal Mouth Moon, and instead focused on creating a new living space in this very interesting building behind it, with the same creator as several other structures in town already (Herbert Gold and April Mae Flowers’ Gothic Deco House; police station; base of Fries with Cheese Church (the part not made of cheese)).

Interesting: only after setting it up did I realize it had a basement to go along with the other 3 floors, ha. So I had to dig one so that the rooms would be accessible. I can put the house toilet there, and maybe a washer and dryer. More details soon if needed.

And so the other consequence of this is that I’ve decided not to rent more land for Aisle of Palms but to keep things as is: cheap and still pretty large. Could change my mind but probably not. I’ll gauge Wheeler’s reaction tomorrow when I tell her the news. I don’t think she wants to rent it herself but I could be wrong. Hard to judge what is obviously my more earthy, feminine side.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0042, 0311, Big Woods, Jeogeot

00410311

Clare knew she shouldn’t have worn the ribbon dress, not yet. Madam Mayor had an assignment for her when she arrived at work the next day. To retrieve *two* golden coins from the hidden stash downstairs in the underground tunnels, no more but no less. “And be sure you turn off the gargoyles in the final chamber,” she reminded her secretary, her girl Friday. Yes, thought Clare here. Don’t want another Eldwina situation. But the sudden vacancy procured her job with the Mayor, after all. Weed out the careless, is how she likes to view it, not knowing the young girl from Gatesy Pearl personally. She’d heard she was a hard and fast typist. She liked to think she had a considerably softer touch on the keys without the loss of *much* speed. Yesterday’s ribbon change was the 1st she had to do since she started several weeks ago. This brought her thoughts back to her bad luck ribbon dress, her present situation. The underground was *spooky* — more dangers down there than just the fiery gargoyles, she felt. At least there was Bulby, a bright spot at the end. She’d known him in different, less dark times.

While in the final room with the treasure she took the opportunity to catch up with the robot, knowing the Mayor didn’t need the 2 coins until tomorrow’s meeting with the Town Council. She had to convince them, she said, that the connection with the Azores is more important than the one with Our Second Lyfe and the Maebaleia continent and such. “I have to explain to them that we are more connected with *Real* Life — up there in the real world instead of here in the virtual. In the end, you have to choose one or the other, see.” And so Cass City, Clare gathered, is being weighed in a balance against itself. There is a *real* Cass City up there, like there is a real Amiable over on the Portugal mainland, as seen in section one of this here photo-novel. And then there’s a virtual version of each. The difference is Cass City adds an alternate history layer, complicating matters. It’s not a more or less exact copy of its real self like Amiable. It plays broadly with the actual, setting up the possibility that Cass City is the replacement of itself up in the real world. This is what the Mayor wants to emphasize to the council. That there’s a chance their town is more real than the real one, if that makes sense. She’ll have to *make* it make sense.

“*Oh*,” she says to Clare before she leaves for the underground. “And also bring up the statue of the pointing man on the horse, you know, the miniature of the real thing that use to sit on that high ridge of Corvo. It might help me with my case. Bulby will show you where it is.”

“Yes ma’am,” and, steeling her nerves, she was on her way.

“I see you still have your hair, your head,” Bulby said while she sat down for her 1st mug of wolfberry wine, coins on the counter but for show not for pay. Everything was free down here. “Yeah, I’m not no Eldwina,” she said back, and both had a chuckle. Empty-headed, both knew or had heard about. “Probably didn’t even feel the fire burning it off,” one of the two joked a bit later.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0041, 0311, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori

00400311

He was trying to take advantage of the situation, get to know Mythos Roswell better through this new avatar he created on a whim to make a point. He did that sometimes.

“Sure,” he as she answered back about the offered drink, seeing his green alien friend (friend?) had fallen for the bait. He’d set him up well. Loneliness goes a long way toward it. And Fillip and Brindle showing up now and then putting him even further down on himself. Mythos Roswell figures he could use a drink himself, although it defeats the purpose of the first (making a buck — he just gave it back). “What’s your, um, name? Stranger?” he said in his mind. But she answered aloud, surprising him. Was this really Horace? Was the t-shirt, what do you call it, a *synchronicity*?

“My name is Lilly. Lilly Day.”

He stuck out his long green alien hand and shook her normal human one. “Well mine is Roswell. Roswell Mythos, although, like the Oriental way of arranging it, you spell it Mythos Roswell over here on the old continents. So… just call me Mythos to make it simple.”

“I can do that. Mythos.”

“Horace are you in there?” he tried with his mind again. “Horace? Where are you?” No answer.

She orders a second slurpee and he does too. Soon they were careening up Route 2 on a sugar high toward Fillip and Brindle, aiming to brag that they were on top of the world and not them. And soon they were also calling each other sugar. Was this wrong? they kept asking themselves. “Was this wrong?” Mythos Roswell tried to communicate with the mind of Horace again in the UFO they drove up there. “Beats me,” Horance wanted to say back but remained silent, not wanting to ruin the moment. The square and circle as one! Now he as the third can come in and save the Day.

(to be continued (?))

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0040, 0311, Heterocera

original Robert

“Black Ice and Marwood, huh?” he spoke from the illegal 7th to fellow pew sitter Blue Berry Girl after everyone had left. Neither had been seen in these here photo-novels in a while. “Blue and yellow blue and yellow blue and yellow,” she rattled in return. They knew they had to do it to save NWES City as a whole. It was a start anyway, the *conception* of the thing. “Kiss not kill,” she had requested earlier, fairy wings fluttering in anticipation. She’d lost some weight, maybe enough for it to work, magnetic attraction and all. She’d overlook his lopsided legs and arms in turn, the blue and red split, and focus on blonde — yellow again. The uniter of the hemispheres. If this didn’t work then: maybe the spherical blue berry torso would return and everything would go to rot, town lost. Jesus use to save. Now it’s up to them.

“Your place or mine?” he finally relented, imagining in his head what would turn out to be reality a little later. It seemed good it seemed right. “Right here,” she said in turn. “Split the difference.”

“Okay.” And they got to it.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0039, 0311, Black Ice, Jeogeot, Marwood, Neptune, NWES Island^

mine

The letter, however brief and simple, took her breath away. She clutched it to her chest while looking out at the beach. The penner: Edward, sweet cute next door neighbor of daddy wannabe Keith B., now far removed and roaming around the coastline of Africa last she heard. Her: Amazon. Here. “My Dear Valentine,” it started. “I love you with all my heart.” it ended. No middle, but centered through and through with a beating, pulsing passion. For a change. “I *love* it!” she called to her wannabe substitute lover. She’ll let him, she knew. But she has to tell Arthur first. Only in the novel, of course. She’ll write it all out just before it happens in reality. Or (this) *ir*reality. Nothing is real here. Right?

—–

“Funny that you’re 6 foot 5, Edward,” she said afterwards. “Just like my Arthur.”

“Let’s not talk about it,” he requested, and then kept on reading what was directly in front of his nose.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0311, Amazon

flavors of favors

Thumbs in his pockets to make him look cool (for no one), Sandman contemplates his next move.

Bank sounds good. Not a sand bank like he’s standing in but a bank bank. Just over there, Kera being its name. He needs some money to fund his defense. Because he will get sued over this. Might as well dress him like a man in black for preparation. Reno.

—–

“Reno,” he says to the teller of the day, who then gives him $499,000. Because if he had said that other prominent Nevada city he knew it would break him, his town, his sim. Sinsity — Middletown. It was coming. And he was just being dragged along in its wake like everyone else he knew and loved and cherished.

Pockets filled — he couldn’t even stick his thumbs in them any more — he gave now upfront Vanilla a kiss to say both thank you and goodbye and went his way. This was standard procedure these days, more Middletown meddling. What would the price be even next week?

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0037, 0311, Hana Lei^^, Nevada, Sand Springs

00360311

She figured if she didn’t find paradise in Mortons Gap, where would she? Bartender Keanoob was cute, and also a good talker. Not that she’s looking any more — she has Arthur after all. They’re married now, at least last time I checked.

Yes, married. This is most likely their honeymoon destination. There were some Durexian-Trojan war memorials here, plus the Ant Castle, whose history also fascinated Arthur. Shelley was pliable — she could go anywhere as long as there’s beach, sun, drink and decent internet access. It was okay here, not the best but doable. She could log onto 3rd Life relatively easy, although for best results she had to reduce her graphics by getting rid of all the shaders. And also minimizing the screen at times. But it was manageable. She’ll play on it a little later, after Arthur has gone to bed. But first: a drink.

“Lemons’ freshly squeezed, Shelley,” spoke Keanoob in his pleasant Japanese accent. He didn’t look like he was from that country but he claimed to be a native. He points to the lemon tree that we look between the split trunk of in that photo above.

“Oh dear,” she said, looking at the time on her watch. “Better get back to the hotel, Keanoob. I’ll have to save that drink for later.”

“Oh okay. You know where to find me!” he called as she dashed off.

He put away the lemons, cussing at his lack of action. Shelley had that effect on men, though. Made them want to follow her to the ends of the Earth, Second Lyfe style. Funny how 1st and 3rd Life are spelled with an “i”, while Second isn’t. Must be a middle problem.

Limes. Only stuck with limes now. “Tequila, Lucy?”

“Sure.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0311, Corsica, Northwest^

00350311

She came from The Void — above. And judging by this introductory picture she may have been formed by The Void, or be a manifestation of The Void itself, sent here to straighten out a pair of misbehaving whippersnappers far below, pheh (she gets into character). BEH.

Her name… give us a second; we’re working on it. Mourning Glory is what I got now. MG.

Here on Holding Level 02, or what some call the Gold Room, our grandmother looking type person decompresses by soaking in a hot tub for 2 weeks a while, its stairs borrowed by Burt to check on a malfunctioning heat vent in hall 4 1/2 a couple of days beforehand. Budget is low for these sorts of places today; MG had to climb in, difficult with her frame and developing arthritis, lengthening the process. No one really comes down from The Void to Our Second Lyfe any more. Back in the golden, olden days it was different. Hence the choice of color here: to remind one of past glory. And I suppose the name Mourning Glory could be a reflection of this too. What did this MG know about such? I’m eager, and I hope you, the reader or readers, are also eager to find out. She keeps the red phone close in case orders change from above.

She’s finally out of the cleansing, relaxing hot tub, ready to get down to business. She checks her face in a handy mirror first. Not there still — she’ll work on it. Only a placeholder version of The Void behind her, which, of course, if she turned around she wouldn’t see.

To the file room.

Filed chronologically instead of alphabetically according to the labels, good.

But — shock — no files within the cabinets! She even checked the dumpster around the corner, *oof*, her back!

She needs to call the boss about the apparent theft but first things first: another go in the hot tub.

Calm, MG, callmmm.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0311, Back Rooms, Omega^^, Southern, The Cross^

00340311

My boy is 15 minutes late, she thought beside the absorbed portrait in the middle of town. Better go meet up with him.

She looks just like I remember her! he thought. Hadn’t changed a bit. But the designer drug was wearing off bit by bit. One by one, the wrinkles began to appear on her face, under her eyes, alongside her chin. Yes: different. Mom but changed. The years have treated her well but they’re still years to live with. Barry realizes the duck will be gone too when he returns to his motel. It was *their* diner. They always met here under the gold tipped pyramid. To talk about life, where they were both heading, where they have been. His mother was always more like a best friend than a parent. She was only 17 years older than him. He felt like he could talk to her about anything. Including the duck.

“Mom,” he starts.

“Don’t,” she said, putting finger to lips and making a shh sound. “I know about the duck.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0311, Gold City, Jeogeot

Hy-Vee

The wind blows hard as we enter the village.

Well pump replaces rocket ship on the next encountered welcoming sign. The pump is a rocket?

Ah ha. Well pump standing by itself in an otherwise vacant lot more on the edge of the tiny hamlet. Launching pad?

And then another one in the exact center, blue instead of white.

Visiting Roger Pine Ridge (as it turns out) waits on a bench at the store he saw pictured on that rock, the one that absorbed Marty. Maybe Marty is here, he reasons. Might make sense. He’ll give it a couple more minutes or hours or days at least. Years.

The flapping continues. Roger is unable to light one of his personally rolled white sticks because of it. Sparks too dangerous in a spot so wooden and full of history.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0311, Google Street View, Iowa