Category Archives: 0409

castling

“You are a doctor. Aren’t you?”

The doctor puts his arms over his head in a stretch. “I am so, my dear lady. And *you*… are a nun. We are both servants of the community at large. This, erm, *Teepot*. Is that what we lot decided to call it, hmm?”

“I’m afraid you aren’t a part of our lot, doctor,” spoke New Nun honestly. “You are not an inhabited soul. You are merely a prop. I merely ask if you are the doctor to see if *you* realize this.” She was truthful but not harsh. No need to get testy with this fellow servant, as he called himself. Good. He may be worth saving in the long haul.

“I *see*.” But did he really see? He made the queer observation again in his pleasant, proper British accent, as if he were repeating himself at a set interval. “You know, when I started this bartending gig here those statues over there were nude. I just came to work one day and they were suddenly clothed, out of the blue. I remember it being a clear, crisp morning. I had the same tweed jacket I have on today. In fact…”

“You never remove it from your body,” New Nun guessed about what he was going to say.

The doctor eyed her keenly. “Yeeeess. Me thinks you know more than you let on, madam.” He thought back to her earlier statement, absurd in the moment but becoming a growing, flickering possibility in his diamond-like mind. Although a prop true, he was such an extraordinary learned and storied one that he truly may be becoming alive in the moment. New Nun could be right about him being worth saving. Why would I doubt her? It’s in her business after all.

She looked at him squarely. “But you are not the doctor I seek.”

“Oh?”

“No.” She took a final sip of her whiskey drink and was gone. The doctor vaguely waved goodbye before forgetting who she was.

New customer, one blacked out but with dangerous curves. She felt the cross and crucifix disappear from her hand beneath the counter. She remembers Rhode… second life. His head pivots toward her as the sequence begins again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0409, Teepot^^

middle

—–

“You are my *sister*.”

“Maybe.”

—–

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0409, Abbey^^

violet consultation

“Katy is a difficult nut to crack,” continued TronAxis in his Tyranea office while Baker Bloch and Hucka Doobie furiously take notes, trying to shorten the night so that another post can be created after the present one. “Oh. Sorry I guess I should have put that another way, ahem. Kate is a difficult *case* to crack–”

“You said she still can’t tell what time it is, what year it is?” uttered Hucka Doobie, attempting to move things along.

“That’s right. One moment she’s little Katy Kidd, stuck in a purple house with an abusive mother, and then the next she’s Kate McCoy, all grown up and back in reality. How long has she been here now?” he inquired partly to himself, partly to the “guardians” Baker and Hucka sitting before him. “5 years I would guess,” he answers while looking up, then looks left. “And the purple house still sits right over there in the opposite corner of the sim. Vacant — the mother’s been dead that long. Still she torments this poor woman-child from the grave.”

Baker’s turn now. He lifts pencil from pad while starting his question. “How about the sphere? She hasn’t strayed down the path of Blue Berry Girl and gone all nudist on us? I’m not (he flips a page, checking notes before he speaks again) sure why — (flips more) she was hired actually. Wasn’t she a former patient?”

“Of Dr. Baumbeer my predecessor, yes,” answers TronAxis, trying to be as transparent as possible within the framework of client-patient confidentiality. “Blue Berry Girl is a very capable therapist, and there’s no therapist like one who understands the patient’s viewpoint, which she does.”

“And Vain and Artery Boy–” Both men in the room stare at bee-woman Hucka, more woman than ever now her antennae have permanently retracted into her skull. They know she’s on the wrong timeline, and could set them back precious minutes, seconds. They decide not to answer her and advance to the next subject. But they then speak at the same time.

“After you, Mr. Bloch,” TronAxis graciously allows.

“No, after you sir. You’re the doctor after all. The new one.”

“Alright, if you insist, thank you.”

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0019, 0409, Corsica^^, Southeast

freedom

Jeffrie Phillips begins his latest assignment proper back in Instabar, the sim highlighted in section 3. Might as well be Sector R.

Perhaps the last dinner of the late, great Mr. and Mrs. Achilles T. Pippin — The Pippins, he considers, who of course include Mary with her red umbrella we suspiciously see little of, even though at least one character says she carries it around all the time. Better check on that, he thinks…

He finds the red wine stale but acceptable for an Australian. Better start looking around for that umbrella, he ruminates.

Hold on, he ponders. This seems unusual, hmm. Cyan… cyanide. Cy Twomile, one of the two most recent victims in this here photo-novel, even though he’s locally known as Big Black Smoke. Derogatory racial name? He better find a computer somewhere.

But what’s this? In the Peppins’ living room: red, blue, and then a yellow lemon on top. And cyan turns to red in inverted color mode — which he, like Aqua Dude before him, can switch on and off when needed, which he does here.

Yes, something about that coat hanger or whatever it was, he contemplates while sitting in the swing beside the 32 square meter house that caused all the messy Instabar trouble in the first place. Buster Damm, hrmph. Popping in and out of this reality at his convenience to cause harm and mischief, like a little, blood sucking gremlin or something. If only we could trace him back to his Pot-D origins.

He decides to check the “coat hanger’s” description remotely while enjoying his hot coffee the swing graciously provided for him, pretty good for Cambodian.

Ahh. *Cage* stand. Bird cage. But where’s the bird? Or *birds*, even?

He travels further back in time than ever to find out.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0409, Corsica^^, Instabar

more more

She was back in Collagesity. Husband Karoz Blogger may or may not follow. She’d heard of Wheeler’s marriage to Axis and had to return. She had one last pitch: a wrestling confederation. Headed by Wheeler.

Marriages don’t have to last forever.

—–

“It’s a good place, Wheeler. A strong place,” Baker Blinker spoke about the Gloomy Gus structure, her original home in Collagesity, recently moved to the Peninsula residential area of town.

“I *do* like the hair. Thanks so much.”

“Sorry it’s so late.” She gazes at the remaining visible eye through the doo and wonders if it’s Arkansas or Missouri. Only one way to find out. “Marry me, Wheeler. Divorce Axis. I’ll divorce Karoz. Together we’ll be *Beans*.”

Wheeler paused. We’ve been here before, but with the shoe on the other foot. “You better get back to Chilbo,” Wheeler replied non-committally. “Karoz will be needing his supper soon. Still eating rice all the time?”

“Quinoa now,” explained Baker Blinker with a laugh. “Less filling.” She rubbed her belly here. Wheeler liked the look of it. Axis was a marriage of convenience. They could remain friends, after all.

“I’ll — think about it,” she finalized for now. “You better go. Oh… let me see yours.”

Baker Blinker showed her the new hair she bought for herself as well. Magika Bean she could be soon. With Flip as her partner at both home and work.

“The study would be right in there,” Baker Blinker tempts. “Just like before.”


Before.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0409, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

hiding

“So where would you like to go Ms. Tanner?”

Nipsie Tanner looked around the room. “Oh (*sigh*), I don’t know. Just away from — here.” She points. “How about that middle one over there.”

“Middle one it is.” George V. Norris gives her a ticket to ride.

—–

“Welcome, dad-i-o.”

—–

Aah. This is the *life*, she thinks later by the “Black Side” pool. Tomorrow I will go check out the local police station; see how it measures up.

She couldn’t help mixing business with pleasure.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0016, 0409, Gaston^^, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island

dharma

“So how did you find her?” queries Trojan-Durexian war vet Sam Bee, back from the dead.

“Accident,” answers fellow vet Duncan Avocado. “About like everything here. That matters.” They both watch her hover around some more.

“Carol?” calls Sam Bee toward it after the wait. He looks at Duncan. “Could it be…?”

“I think it has to be. A cemetery with one ghost and no headstones. This is the town.”

“Better follow her, then.”

—–

“Well. You are the *Pumpkin King*, after all.”

Duncan always hated that war derived name. To death.

—–

The ghost disappeared on this parcel. They stopped. “This must be the place she wanted us to visit,” spoke Duncan A. “Another empty cemetery?”

Red stop sign; red rent overdue box, they noted. Then something else red more in the distance…

… but on the same parcel and in line with the other two.

—–

66 sign, which probably can be expanded to 66.6. Owned by the Red Devil himself.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0409, Gregson, Maebaleia/Satori^^

Broken

“Kate,” requested her mother. “What do you see now?”

*Katy* listened to the patterns in her ears. “War, of course,” she answered shortly, then paused, hands on headphones.

“Do you see a Jellyfish? Or a Mermaid?” optioned Tracy.

“Umm. Both!”

“Explain.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0409, Blue Feather Sea^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

head gap

“Look Allen Y. Dolphins doing tricks (!). Marvelous.”

On a different part of the pier, Allen Y. remained disappointed.

“Why are we *here*? And not there or there?” He pointed southwest and northeast respectively here.

“I told you. We have to move to the center for perspective because we’re in the center of Part 4 of the new Collagesity novel, Allen Y. This is Grey Havens, and, as I checked, certainly a haven from the grey, corner sims we’ve been focused on so far: MISTY MO and Gulf of Loon. Look at your inworld map and you’ll see.”

“I’m tired of seeing,” he spoke plainly. “Everything is too clear to me now. I’ve seen the writing on the bottom.”

“Oh come on,” encouraged Jennifer M. Friend, still squinting at the receding dolphins while thinking of the 2 hearts as one dealie he reviewed earlier. Not going to happen here. But the Chee Chee…

He thought back. “I see one heart over here, and then another smaller heart over there.” He pointed to the gap. “Can this be filled?” But she was facing the other way and could not see. The Black Lake obscures. A little later he decided earrings at the Calas market would send a correct message. To add to the roses; he couldn’t help himself.

“I simply love the flowers… and the earrings, Allen Y.,” delivered Jennifer M. Friend in resonance with his thoughts.  “One over here and the other over there.” She though of each ear respectively. “Just like I like them.”

“So you’ve said.” He sighs again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0409, MISTY MO^^

doomed

He couldn’t quite resolve the ruined and useless parasol from this distance — thought it another of the circling ravens at a glance. But this particular black shape remained motionless unlike the others. And it was more triangularly. He better go investigate.

This is when Dickie Doom first sat on the Throne of Jethro. Or was it the Bauer Throne. Anyway, that’s when he initially surveyed the ruined Fries with Cheese church where former New Island neighbors Mrs. Fogg and Ms. Frame hid out in the dark, dark days after the apocalyptic lime kiln explosion. Deafening it was to their ears, blinding to their eyes. Yet after several excruciating hours the sights began to return for each, the sounds. Silence all around for the longest time. Visuals, but of wrecks. Twisted metal. Tires. Crates and doors and chairs, paint removed by the disaster. Highways broken and trust up in the air instead of grounded and whole. The insects remained, hidden in the filthy soil. Then the birds came back. The blessed birds. The insects scuttled out. The birds swooped in, first one, then a few, then a flock (or murder). Gobble gobble. The cycle of life and death was restored in this small way. This opened the doors for others: rats, of course; a few wild cats who ate the rats, and then the larger animals. Mastodons. No, not mastodons. But some other large animals. Hippos might have numbered among them. Tigers. Yes: tigers. And dogs the size of rats the size of cats.

And the ruined parasol mirroring the ruined church turned out not to be black but purple, the color of violets. Dickie Doom missed flowers greatly.

He better get back to the shelter.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0409, The Waste^^