Category Archives: 0314

00300314

Ah yes, much better match. Even if she did wear an ill fitting mask. He’d give her a lecture later on, after they knew each other a little better. Ah, heck. He’ll do it now. It’s the holiday season after all. She’s trying. She won’t be offended, he figures.

“Phyllis?” he starts.

“Berta, actually. Remember? Phyllis is my twin sister.”

Shoot. Wrong holiday girl after all. Back to the drawing board.

“It’s okay,” she says to the obviously downcast Chet. “We’re really clones, you know,” she confesses. “Basically one and the same. We just use the sister story to throw the police off the track of…” She hesitates. She doesn’t know him well enough to talk about Dr. Mouse yet. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe never.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0314, Lower Austra^, Nautilus^^, Squared Root City

Web Winder West

The horse spotted her from the saloon, even neighed at her, seeming to beckon her toward him. But maybe it’s just the attraction to the sim of Horsa in general, and what it means for the future of this continent, indeed Our Second Lyfe. We are trying out the whole “give peace a chance” angle, and “love love love.” Interesting. And Lena Horned is here too (!), gigs extended to perhaps the end of the month. She’s hinted around that she might record her comeback album here, if she can find a suitable barn or something to transform into a studio. That’s why *she’s* here. To make sure all this happens in the most correct patterns.

Better get back to the boy, she thinks. He seems a bit down today; probably that attempted contact with his father. She shakes her red head with this. 102 — the *boy* is *102*. Must be. Not Rael McCoy but the *real* McCoy plain and simple. And with a more well respected and rounded sister. She’s next…

And following the advice of her smaller self she can still meet in dreams, she’s decided to put a tattoo on her back and neck, although it’s covered up by her rose shirt from this angle. *Rose*. She’s forgotten about the renegade Wells over at the Blue Feather Sea. Wonder if she’s procured that telescope she needs to see beyond Uranus yet, further into the corners of Space. Because Space indeed has a limit. She knows all about that.

Oh: he’s also the Mouse as well.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0314, Horsa^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

from Genesis to Lamb

—–

Now that I’m awake again I’m going to figure out who you guys are, he thought. Sorry: *gals*.

Gals?

—–

Other Other! (4:00)

Worlds come together. (3:45)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0314, Kowloon^^, Yaya Land

ears for hears

As soon as I found a correct location to teleport in and sat down at the first table I saw, I realized I had not only visited here but I *lived* here. I recall Burro Alley. I recall the policeman, perhaps named Brown or maybe just living in a brownstone apartment. He was *after* me. He was asking two hookers about my location in an alley across from the alley (*The* Alley), but the one who cooperated didn’t actually know anything. The other did, but she was from the country. *My* country.

I was part of the Black Lake Bunch, also known as the Black Lake Gang or Purple Bunch. There was one in it who didn’t like me, didn’t approve of me. She said: why don’t you appear as you really are in this Second Lyfe of ours. She also mentioned the plug. I said the plug covers an avatar defect. I said it monitors the surroundings, giving me indication of friend or foe. Right now it was hurting like a mother fo. Red. Indication of foe. I moved away from her, unfriended her, even though we were never friends. Blocked I think is the word, yes. But the other remained kind of a friend, like Thatch. She was helping protect me. Red turns to green. The Alley is just across the way. There we find PROBABILITIES, exactly what I was looking for. An ESCAPE.

“Helloo Wanda,” spoke the woman nearest me after she turned. She had a mocha cappuchino in her hand, made by Stenson the nice black lady that I also recall. The woman with the cappuchino was named… funny I couldn’t recall, although I’d seen her face a lot. Gertrude. I think. Jacksonia Andrews approached from the west, bringing me a pink drink that I realized I ordered all the time. It was a given. “Thank you Jacksonia,” I said as she handed it to me, cool as glacier. “Just what I needed for my aching feet.” “Haven’t you got a transplant yet?” she asked. “You’ve been talking about a transplant for forever, Wanda. Also: hadn’t seen you around in a while. We figured… we figured you were back at The Factory.”

“Feet,” I said back, trying to remember what she spoke of. I remembered her name at least. Now to the details. *This* was a factory as well, I remembered. But faces, not feet. Alice over there, sitting with new hands on old knees. I then knew, I then recalled. Not just face: feet, hands, any body part could be remodeled and redone and revitalized. I was here because of my feet. I stayed in a brownstone apartment, but not next to the officer who was looking for me. I was on a waiting list. Jenny said they could fix me up.

I poured the cool, glacial water on my feet. I had just added 5 more minutes to my stay, with a total at 7 minutes now. I had time for a couple more angles of investigation. I knew quite a bit more already. I decided to talk to Alice. She worked at the airport as some kind of receptionist. A lot of people around here worked at the various airports dotting the continent. Planes kept this landmass alive, vital. It was at the crossroads of everything.

Then I remembered *The* Crossroads, like this place had *The* Alley. 61 and 49, green and gray. Back there at the Airton airport on the mountain that is also a hill there was a gray grey laying next to me. My duplicate was being formed, but they couldn’t figure out how to move gray into green by gaining 12. They weren’t working in base 12 and remained in base 10. I had been saved so far by their more primitive mathematics. But still: time was running out.

—–

The doctor got out of his car. He had been there all along, observing and listening, taking notes, just like me.

“I heard something about numbers. Should we be working with different numbers? Would that solve the problem?”

I hate when people get in my head like that.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0314, Nautilus^^, Slaashsides

00260314

Duncan *knows* about this art, Marty thought while staring at the Eve guided by the snake instead of the God. He believes he sees her inner parts and looks away at something else more in the distance. A man eating brains out of a skull — still disturbing but less so.

Roger Pine Ridge walks into the door. Marty remembers the deal: 57. Or was it 56? Maybe it’s the last number that counts, the 7 and the 6. Throw ’em in a cup, rattle them around, see what comes out. Quantum state; Black Hole, even. He beams at Roger, knowing he has the upper hand again. Yelloo.

“Let’s go,” Roger requests, eager to get out of this place full of “artists”.

But first: “Nothing in the library about Roost or the Roost Never Sleeps attached castle.”

“Have you tried *Rust*? As in Neil Young?” Marty’s hand switches from upper to lower and Roger is in charge. “Let’s go,” he says again, not taking no for an answer. “NOW”.

“‘Kay,” is all Marty could weakly manage in acquiescing.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0314, Hana Lei^^

76 and 2 more

Jeffrey Phillips senses something is important here in this sim wide town near the center of Nautilus, and that the creators know about his attempt at circling the continent’s square, as it were. But no one seems to live here, perhaps another mystery in itself: houses and buildings basically empty. Still the word Perch in its hyphenated name of Mistletoe-Perch seems to represent another clue, given that’s what’s in famed Collagesity deity Carrcassonnee’s nogg’n and allows her to (potentially) see and interact with others. Jeffrey wonders what would happen if you kissed someone in the middle of it, down on that bridge crossing a central canal of sorts. Perhaps he could invite Elsa from Marwood over to find out, try that little Tennessee move again to see if it works better over here.

He dials the 4 numbers he knows will connect him to her. Oklahoma.

“Elsa it’s me.”

(reply)

“No, only Kentucky tonight, I promise.” But he was crossing his fingers behind his back.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0314, Nautilus^^, Upper Austra^

Red Line

Peet Archer didn’t know he would be dragged all over town with his 200 meters worth of 3/16 inch braided nylon rope trying to hold onto Toddles through time. “Whoa Nelly!” he exclaims exactly halfway between 23 22 and 22 23. “Down in the road she goes (*snap*?).”

The snake has let loose of its tail.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0024, 0314, Canada, Canada/Picturetown

jarred

“She came through the cake portal off the Southwest Corridor.”

“I know where the cake portal is,” black haired Fern Stalin reprimanded the more mentally challenged Lichen Roosevelt, a classic ditzy blonde. “What have you found so far?” Understandably, and good to know, Lichen was a subordinate to Fern, which is why she got first shot at an analysis before the bigger gun moved in. Fern’s mind could turn into a fiery, raging bazooka if needed.

“We know she’s not fully human, maybe as little as half human. As you can see, there’s a pink-ish tone to her skin, and I’m not talking about flesh colored pink but pink pink, as in ‘Some Like It Hot’ pink.”

“Looks pretty cool to me,” Fern stated, eyeballing the being and not sensing a Marilyn Monroe type situation. This *red* could turn out to be pretty smart, like herself. That old saying, black and red good in bed, spontaneously sprang to mind. But yellow’s a different fellow, some tacked on. Like herself. “What else?”

“She’s got scars on her face, perhaps from an operation. Oh, she’s got 4 stomachs. Like a cow!”

“She *doesn’t*.” Fern let her guard down in the surrealness of the moment.

“Just kidding.”

Fern frowned but was proud of Lichen for the joke, since they had been talking about the TILE Manifesto and the line, “And so on the 5th day he cowed”, just this morning at the commissary kitchen — good setup. Maybe her intelligence shows up more in humor. Didn’t she use to do stand up comedy down at the Toasty Toad? Or was it Tasty? She could check later on the interwebs. Maybe that was Pete Perk over at marketing, come to think of it. Lichen was just dating him, just tagging along. And something happened to Pete, yes, and she had to take the stage. He choked on a toad? No, that can’t be it. He choked *at* the Toad. Got stage fright. Lichen filled in. I remember, yeah, she was pretty good, pretty tasty. Something else… ahh, back to the task at hand. The intruding alien. But what if this really *does* have something to do with TILE.

“Let’s get back to the face marks. What size were they and what part of the face were they on? Could be a disguise, like Eddy the Phosphorescent Leech over in Zilchboro. Did you check the scars? Did you measure their width, length, angle, and depth?” Fern knew Lichen in all likelihood didn’t do this. She had the upper hand again as usual.

(to be continued)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0023, 0314, Hana Lei^^

Head’s Helm(et)

“Boy I’m stuff, phew! Thanks for the pork chops flapjacks, Berry.”

Berry, MAT (Man About Time) thinks. That’s how he sees me currently. I can play along. “No problem [delete name].”

“What did you call me?” Toothpick truly couldn’t hear his own name being thrown back at him. It was part of the hypnosis of the role currently. He was fully Toothpick now, brother of beautiful, strong and handsome Elberta but soon to be more. The Temple of TILE wedding bells beckoned again after a brief lapse of trepidation. They’re so in sync! Of course they should get married. It was the way of the Deep South, their heritage. The Deep South of the Black Ice sim. He wonders how Boos and Bogota are getting along way down there. He needs to revisit the old homeland — hinterland. Invisible to most but straw enhanced Toothpick could see.

“I called you [delete name].”

Toothpick cocked one of his ears in MAT’s direction. “Say again?”

“Never mind that, um, Toothpick.” He really had a mild voice. Again, for someone so important. He knew a lot, being able to leap about time like he does. A man about it. But he often was a little confused; unfocused. Part and parcel of the gift.

“I am your neighbor,” MAT tested further.

“No. You live *here*” protested Toothpick, knowing that Berry moved to his Kidd Tower penthouse apartment in The City to start attending services over in the Temple of TILE and to, well, serve *him* instead of visa versa, with Master becoming, um, Slave. Sort of. Which makes Toothpick think of choppers. He points to the space where his two front teeth should be. “Lost ’em. In the war.”

MAT knows it was football and that Toothpick has a ways to go to remember who he actually is. Maybe the Monkey helmet would help.

—–

He gives it to him the next time they eat. “What do you think this is, [delete name]?”

“What?”

“Toothpick.”

“Oh. A, er, helmet?” He takes it out of the box; inspects; places it over his head, even.

“Yes but what kind of ‘Head’ protection?” So mild.

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0314, Apple's Orchard, NWES Island^

Gastonite

Now eyepatched Jim the Bastard Pirate, still working from his magic typewriter, looks around the 2nd floor of his new Bogota Gallery in NWES City and sees it is good.

Soon he would reach the 3rd and enter a new level of understanding about what happened to Hucka Doobie when she was pushed into that collage to the left by thought-to-be friend Tammy Whatammy back in photo-novel 7. Instead: fusion.


“When in Rome” (2018)

Leave a comment

Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0314, Black Ice, collages 2d, Gaston^^, NWES Island^