Category Archives: 0412
00470412 (the great 100,000 book library in de skies)
“Lou, dearest,” he whispered over. “Buy your old man a can of soda while he’s busy studying will ya?”
“Sure thing Daddy. What’ll it be? Kolya? Pepi? Maybe even a bottle instead of a can?”
“Shhh, babydoll,” he said to her louder voice, finger over lips to reinforce his point. “Keep it down. Other people are studying here besides me.”
“And me — just sitting here twiddling my thumbs,” she responded in turn, tone not much softer than before. “Wishing there was an actual town again to visit while you read these old dusty things.” She became curious. “What’d you finding anyway? You mentioned a MOA or something or another.”
“Most Ancient One, yes,” he hissed, finger pressed against lips again. “Right underneath the library here, I’m speculating. That *whole town* you’re after. Files within!” Oh GOD. He shouted he was so excited. And now the whole rest of the library is staring. He waves at all of them, trying to indicate he’s sorry and that the outburst was just a slip-up.
Right through that Big Red Machine there it is, though. The secret passage. ‘Nother one.
He could walk through…
… and be in a different world altogether. And so it was.
“Ahh yes, thanks Lou,” he said after carefully popping the top and taking a sip. “Hits the spot.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0412, Gaston^^, Nautilus, NORTH, Rooster's Peninsula
00460412
Afterwards, Wheeler explained what Newt saw and experienced through a double recently found online. Rockstahr. “See?” she said, pointing it out. “The red blue green yellow tubes of the mad scientist go through the hair and potentially to the back.
“Just like you,” he said, still not over the excitement. Tingly!
“Yeah, and the orange and violet tubes…”
“Up front, right.
“Soo… you’re the creation of a mad scientist. Just like Rockstahr.”
“Mad, yes (giggle). Scientist — not exactly.”
Artist instead, he understood.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0412, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Perch-Mistletoe, Upper Austra^
00450412
“Susan was a goner, Fink. You essentially killed her with your attack at the beach. But you were only defending Jack, who would have gotten killed himself if you hadn’t intervened. If *Fern* hadn’t intervened. You first saw him — remember? — across Susan’s sprawled out body, his green matching your flesh, his square matching your round.”
“I remember,” said Fink. “I– didn’t mean to kill her.”
“*Told* you to control that freak-ish green arm better,” reprimanded Jack, then felt bad about it. “I mean, I guess you were defending me and all still.”
“I *was*.”
“*Anyway*,” said Princess Pinky Gumm, “I knew her essence could be put to better use than keeping her alive for another day or three at best until she succumbed to those obviously fatal injuries. So I used that energy, that essence to heal myself. Remember? I was possessed by The Lich. *I* wasn’t going to get any better.” Better her than me, Princess Pinky Gumm thought but didn’t say aloud. Was she 100% sure Susan wouldn’t recover? Actually: no. She had been selfish. Susan was a renegade cyborg killer, programming triggered by an electrical shock from a giant Acid River eel. But maybe, just maybe, she would have recovered. But that left the killer part intact still, she tried to rationalize. Yes, better her than me (for death), she reinforced to herself.
“How?” says Fink.
“I’m both a physicist and psychic trained at world esteemed Cal State, Fink. The answer would be too complicated for your meager brain to comprehend. Given you just made an F minus on what I would consider the easiest test on Earth.” Princess… Pink(y)… Gum(m), she reviews the glaringly obvious three-parter, and looks over at his blank, human face. So typical. At least fellow human Susan had killer written all over hers. After the eel. Kill or be killed, she thought once more. Yes, her complicated arrangement of physical-psychical interactions used for the transfer were justified.
(to be continued)
00440412 (Badlands)
“Edward’s dead,” she put it bluntly, witnessing the spectacle herself. “Out in the desert. Dancing up a storm, dancing harder than anyone else. Then: the storm hit, shall we say. Like in Arroyo.”
“But… *I’m* Edward,” I say back, remembering the conversion. “In Kabusie this time, on the other side of Nightsity. Next to the canal. Ditch Canal. Or Channel.”
“No, that was a close call, but you’re not Edward. He passed you by. Close but no call. Lucky for you now.”
I recalled seeing the crybaby being consoled by a girl, probably a girlfriend or at least a friend. Then immediately afterwards: Edward, who I’d already identified as such; that was my actual nickname for him (Crybaby). He passed through me. I *became* Edward in the heart of the moment. Or at least I was convinced at the time. In retrospect, yeah, maybe Fern’s right. Fern the Nomad (now). Maybe it was close but no call. Like baseball. Like not being out at home.
“Dead,” she said again to reinforce her point, looking at me trying to grasp and grapple with the issue. “Out in the middle of desert which is the same as its edge. I went back the next day. I *saw*.”
(to be continued)
00430412 (Edward D.)
She called in her big brother for intimidation and I knew I had to stop, Hustle kids both. I didn’t follow her this time as she walked away. I decided then and there to switch these kind of activities from night to day, and from women to men. So the next day, Thursday I believe, Edward fairly quickly came into my scope as he passed the V that represented me. Which brings us to the present, I suppose.
—–
It took me 27 minutes and 19 seconds into this more ambient video to turn the game location Red Dirt into the blog location Red Dust, pheh. But I got it. Edward was nowhere to be found — I thought I’d try this out first since it’s the last location we’ve seen him in time-wise, staring at that Mars guitar of all things. He *knows*. Anyway, I must move on… the 45 minute video’s over.
We’ll call him Edward Doofus per V’s nickname to differentiate him from Edward Daigle seen in earlier sections of this here novel. But underneath the different game exteriors they seem to be one and the same. That’s another twist. Now: to figure out how it happened. We last saw Edward *Daigle* on a ship 1 after 909 heading to Mars, sitting a couple of rows behind super smart Fern Stalin going to same. But — hold on — maybe Mars is Arroyo. Maybe Red Dirt *is* Red Dust. Someone decides to hold out a knife to test the theory on a particular rusty and dusty day. *Brnng*, it rings, as he unsheathes it while a Red Dust cowboy videotapes the whole thing, hoping to fully form in this reality. Another Youtuber?
Results inconclusive. But we appear to be on the right track! Back into Arroyo it is.
00420412 (a dose of LSD)
“Meet me by the big foot in Kyoto. Oracle’s orders.” He hung up the phone.
—–
“Where *is* she?” Was he firm enough in his tone of voice?
He started wandering around. Bad idea.
Soon, too soon, he’d forgotten EVERYTHING.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0412, Kyoto, LSD
00410412
Shaping up!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0412, Big Woods, Blue Feather, Fal Mouth Moon, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Temple of TILE
00400412
AND she’s started smoking pot. That’ll teach the Powers that Be, she thought while finally exhaling the wicked weed and then feeling the Devil pull her heart out through her belly button. All Orange, she thinks. “All Orange!” she cries, looking at the thing wriggling and writhing in front of her like a Red Incubus Baby. RIB she decided to call it on the spot as it was dropped to the ground and walked away on its own energy. Into the night — it would always be there from now on, she knew. Waiting…
There it is again and 10 times larger!
—–
He liked this particular apt. because he could keep an eye on Newton’s boat out in the harbour, a sim-skipper. He knew that if the unique ship was gone for any length of time, then it could come back with an outsider, which might be bad, really bad. He had too much invested here in this Gaston, formerly Mimosa. Pot was basically free, Philip’s pills were plentiful. It was perfect for the criminal duo. Shady dealings all around. Laggy but — small price to pay. And now he had Hucka. But did he really? She didn’t have the best reaction to that pot he provided her night before last, he continued to ponder. And she didn’t call last night like she promised.
She could figure a way to get out which would also be bad, leave a potential trail for others to follow, both out *and* in. He’ll have to review with her the collage and the pushing and the arrival at the jail. Casey One Hole, PHEH. He’s still around too, he knew.
“Marion, I’m *bored*. Let’s go do some drugs or something. Sex, drugs, rock–”
“Don’t say it,” Marion cut him off. Strum and Drum was playing one last time at the Rhino tonight and Hucka D. hadn’t called about a potential date. And it was protocol in this Sadie Hawkins kind of town for her to do so, females rolling the dice instead of the men in affairs of the heart. But… she said her heart was stolen over at the pool after she finished off his joint. Maybe he should have warned her about the potency, and that he’d been smoking so long that it took a powerful strain to do anything for him any more. Maybe — he looked over — maybe he was stuck with Philip after all.
“Okay,” he said. “But I still would like to drop by the concert sometime.”
“Will Levon be there?” the professional pill popper on the couch asked.
“You bet he will.” And he asked him to keep an eye out for Hucka too and to call if he sees or hears anything, he thought privately. She *did* leave the first part of the gig for a while the other night, the Ketchup Tom composed half which involved a lot of noise, she said afterwards. But she seemed to enjoy the transfigured “Jackie Blue” enough to end; asked a lot of questions about its origin and the Ozark Mountain Daredevils and then the mountain they were named after. “Big Sandy,” she said at one time about the current band. “They said they were from Big Sandy.”
“Yeah?” Marion said back. “It’s a place. People have to come from places and go to other places,” he said matter of factly, adding a smile.
“There’s a boat out in the harbour there,” she then said, which immediately made him think of Newton’s boat but which turned out to be much larger. And more complicated.
“3 sims?!” he cried when she told him the dimensions of the thing. An internal sim-skipper, he dwelled about afterwards, complete unto itself. *Danger-ous*. But also completely fascinating.
“Philip?” he said in the present, hatching a new idea. “How would you like it if I bought us 2 golden tickets to visit the mainland?” *Or*, he then thought… hmm, how *exactly* did *Strum and Drum* get here, hmph? He knew about the Volkswagen Bug of course; it was still parked half on the sidewalk outside the club. But… it couldn’t just *come over* by itself from the mainland. Not without some kind of magical aid.
Daffy Duck had just blown up Uncle Scrooge with a rigged 100 dollar bill. “Say what?” Philip said, not breaking his stare from the TV and the blackened duck, suddenly realizing he was hungry.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0412, Gaston^^
00390412
And so he’s come full circle, staring at a wall screen that shouldn’t be here. Constantynople should be integrated into the rest of the island by now. Yet: segregated still; central importance not realized, not understood. Myrtle’s urgings to her neighbors remained in the future, hidden in a probable reality, perhaps never to see the light of day and, if so, perhaps just falling on deaf ears, as she was once deaf to the situation. Yet she saw CROOKED (in the future), she saw the light, thanks to the Abyss and Axis. She turned.
—–
“Hooray, he’s back!” cried the standing yellow porch ickle upon seeing him enter the square. But Mr. Z was not nearly as enthusiastic as when this first happened over 2 months ago, shortly after Constantynople itself was formed. Now it just seemed old… and tired. He says goodbye to the excited ickle, arms still raised in joy, and lumbers up to his 2nd floor apt. pondering next steps. Zimmy, if only I’d found you in Southside, he thinks, head in hands, about ready for a good cry. Now I am still alone. The tears begin…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0412, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File
Sunklands 