Category Archives: 0414

walk talk

The cat is the room. The cat is (waving) the room.


“Hiii!”

Follow me, it commands. “Follow Charlie,” it follows me, specific about a name. Charlie was at the bottom of the stairs leading to the market. “I’ve never been to the market except that once,” I talk back, trying to remember the once. I had to publish privately and review…

“Take your time,” it meows. “What’s time in a town without time?” he purred philosophically, also thinking about the rapidly spinning town clock. Sometimes it slows down as well. That one time it stopped. All turned dark. And then, another, it was a blur. White all around. Then occasionally it mimics our sidereal time, closely followed or preceded by our *real* real time. They’re not that far from total agreement these two types of time are. I think they can strike a deal down the road somewhere; agree to all the numbers.

—–

“Thank you for waiting, Charlie. Turns out I’ve never been to the market. Another (type of) false memory.”

“No problem. Time: again.” The cat yawns and then continues to stare. I understand that he is ready to ascend. *We* are ready.

—–

“What do you see?” asked Charlie in a voice full of meow while stepping aside near the top.

“Um… the marketplace?”

“*The* center,” it pursues. “You stay here (long enough), you will meet *everyone*. Including the one you will. Are you ready?”

“Um, sure.” I walk up a couple more steps and there we are. Gemusy Market according to the globe/map over at the school that I remember from yesterday. Today (something).

—–

I compare the price of berries, while Charlie talks to calico cat friend Fred about the ups and downs of town, not leaving out the good for the bad. I take a bite of strawberry just to test. Eww. Rancid. Then another: delicious. I see what they mean.

—–

“Over here now, new friend,” spoke/purred/meowed Charlie that God-like cat, ready to step into the God void if necessary. If needed.

“I see you. Taking a break?”

“No. Have you seen enough of the market? Are you ready to enter… the director’s suite? Just over there.” He points his head over there. A dark and sort of ominous, luminous tunnel.

“Director?” I queried, picturing a beret wearing older man in a fold out chair labeled “director”. Not too far off, but not too close either. 1/2 and 1/2.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Abbey^^, Corsica^^, Stranger Creek

continuation

Peter Esso walked right by it on the way the bookstore to look at that map of Michigan again in the old atlas he’d found the day before last Wednesday’s Sunday. Or something. He’d had an epiphany the night before. The two St. Joseph Rivers of that state are actually one St. Joseph Rivers, er, River. “Eureka!” he cried while climbing out of the bathtub, still soaking wet as he padded toward the computer and the map of Hillsdale County he left up on it, a *modern* version but still one indicating where the conjoined sources lie: Osseo.


Osseo, 6000 years in the future.

Thus the purchase of the Esso t-shirt from the Marketplace, and also the old sign reinforcing to himself that he was indeed a tiger (see: Wheeler). And then the name change: SoSo to Esso, but the one embedded in the other thanks to Osseo, he understood.

Wait — he has an idea.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Corsica^^, Michigan, Southeast, Storybrook

2n1

“I saw it,” he reaffirmed afterwards, sitting on Urqhart Hill looking over the valley, water filled in the dancing fire vision. “I guess the dam would have had to been at about Marty’s house here, then run across the gap connecting Urqhart Hill with, well, whatever that opposite peak’s name is over there.” He looks toward it as if Marty’s house was transparent. And perhaps it was in the moment, just in that instant.

Now let’s draw back and look at the whole thing, at about the same angle Jeffrie saw it in his fire vision.

Behold: the Indian Lake (Sox Pond) basin. 1919. The year fire met water and neither won.

Better get down to the bar and meet the others, he ruminated/thought/pondered.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Corsica^^, Urqhart

87 02

“I’m going to make you partially transparent so don’t panic.”

“Okay, here’s the problem. Or deal. *I* sit on the black stool that represents the 8 ball. 88 01 (let’s say), you are on the orange “2” stool and 88 02 (we’ll say), you’re perched on the yellow “3”. Wheeler then considered something else. “Stool, huh.” She then took a remote picture before returning to the 87 Room.


Room 61

“Alright, so between you is an XVideos labelled laptop that, to me, obviously is suppose to represent “x” as in *times* something. But 3 *times* 2 (she points to the 3 associated objects in turn) equals 6. Added to my 8 (stool) you get 86. But this is (Room) 87.

If you consider the X might be a cross (+) it goes even one further from the truth, since 80 (points to herself) plus 3 (points to 88 01) plus 2 (points to 88 02) equals 85. Now the XVideos laptop sits on a stool representing the 1 ball in pool, the blue one. To me, this *must* represent Blue Eye, the missing one in either Arkansas or Missouri. So here’s the solution, people. I’m 80, you guys are 3 *times* 2 or 6, and then the stool, the one, when added in at last — *not* multiplied — brings us to the needed 87. You have to count the missing one hidden by the X to make sense of it all.

“So what’s the problem?” I asked just beyond the wall.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, 100 Story Building, Kowloon

motel

“I think that’s the worst part of leaving the South for me, Jer my bro.” He stares at Bogart and Bergman on the screen. “No colored TV.”

“I hear ya.”

—–

“I *love* black and white TV,” Cathy A. squeals downstairs at basically the same instant in time. “Reminds me of my childhood in…” She tails off here.

“In where, pumpkin spice? You mean…?”

“Yeah.”

Marcus Fox Smartville studies her sad face, so filled with joy just a moment before. Then he notices the rose.

Not the same hand, not the same color. Just with the insinuation of Crabwoo everything had changed.

“I’m remembering things,” she said.

—–

“Anorexia?” he responds just a minute later. “What kind of name is *that*?”

“She goes by Annie.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Gregson, Maebaleia/Satori^^

THIS SIM 02

“Always looking for connections, aren’t you?”

“Yup,” he admitted. “Catwoman I think. Half woman, half cat. Another type of underling.”

“Sooo. You’re the Cat(man), then. The Red Dwarf Cat. Always womanizing, or the door’s always open to it.”

“I think I’m irresistible,” he admitted. “But I have my limits. Nose piercings! And that tongue!”

“So you said.” You should maybe like the tongue, I was thinking but didn’t say aloud. But maybe it was pierced too. He doesn’t like piercings. But then again, they’re *shiny*. Cat loves shiny things! We better move on.

“Sooo. What brought you *here*?”

“It’s right next door. THIS SIM.”

“I see you still have your primmy rose. Are you looking for love in this sim as well.”

“Always!” He sticks out his own tongue a bit here, I observed. Pierced as well — should’ve known.

I didn’t want to delay any longer. “Let’s go see the sign, then.”

—–

“Flickering,” he stated. “Half and half again. If I wasn’t standing a certain way I would have never seen the address.” Another potential love! Marcus Fox Smartville muses. He couldn’t help himself.

“1 blocked,” I also observed. “Interesting. But from the house they were in…” We moved over to the house.

“… plain as day.”

“Where are they now?” he asked, making me puzzled. “I mean, if they weren’t me — us.” My face was still squinched up. “*Pretend*,” he requested firmly.

“I — I.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

sad tale

This Coffee Mix is soo delicious, thought Spongeberg Resident just off Route 13. Think I’ll have another while I’m here.

“Spare some change for a handicapped person?” spoke Roth Voomer sitting in the phone booth beside him.

“Oh,” exclaimed Spongeberg. “Didn’t see you there, man.” He sets down the now empty can on top of the machine and starts digging around his pockets for smaller change than what he was going to buy his next drink with. “Nickel okay?” He drops the coin at his feet. Roth is understandably disappointed. Sensing this, Spongeberg digs some more. “And this… dime. That’s all I have.” Another drop. He then inserts the two quarters in his other hand and retrieves his second Coffee Mix drink from the machine.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong with me?”

Spongeberg gives him another glance. “Errr… no,” and turns around to leave.

“It’s my hands.” Roth rolls up his sleeves. “Or the lack of such. Here. Take a look.”

Curious, Spongeberg turns back to the figure. He’s rarely seen handicapped people here in His Second Lyfe and wonders why avatars would do such a thing to themselves.

“Oh. Yeah. That is unfortunate.” He starts to explain how things work in this place, and you can simply switch shapes to get the new hands. But Roth interrupts him, guessing what he’s going to say.

“Can’t do it; don’t ask.”

“Don’t ask what?”

“About the body.” Roth heaves a sigh. “I’m *stuck*”.

—–

In a little bit, they start to actually become friends. Spongeberg shares the last 1/2 of his drink with him, putting opening to lips when requested. For, you see, Spongeberg was stuck himself. He’d made a mistake, he owned up to Roth, in coming back to His Own Second Lyfe and trying to make a new start in the remnants of Mystenopolis just down Route 13. He pointed down the highway from whence he came in saying this. So he’s heading over to the big airport he’s heard about on Route 14 on the opposite coast to catch a plane back to Whitehead Crossing. He explained his health is not good over here, not good atall, because, you see, he keeps *dying*. Happened just yesterday on the side of the road, he furthered. So he’s getting out of here. “Just have to go up the new road connecting Route 13 on this side of the peninsula with Route 14 on the other side,” he informed. Spongeberg then decides to ask Roth if he wants to accompany him on the trip. “Since I’m healthy in Whitehead Crossing,” he said, “maybe you can get back your hands in same. Maybe it’s… fate we go together up that road to the big airport. And… maybe even others will join us. A band. Traveling up and then down the road, over the mountainous spine of the peninsula. What wonders we might see.”

—–

But there was basically nothing on the road. And the airport didn’t have any flights going from Second Lyfe to Real Lyfe atall. Still handless Roth then says goodbye and thanks for the effort, but Spongeberg had already died again and didn’t hear him.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

micro-world

At five minutes to twelve, the king declared that it was time for his daughter to retire for the night. Punishment! She will not see the shape pullers tonight. And all because she spoke about a little silver being mixed into their predominantly golden hue. Truth! She must escape into her fantasy world now, the micro-continent of Rosehaven. She is *Princess* here, not mere Merry Gouldbusk.

One day she will rule this land with a sweet not sour heart. But right now the burden is too great, and bitterness threatens to break her soul. She’s got all the places that make her life worth living still. Not mere pins marking locations but *resonance*. She will rule by such resonance. Rosehaven will vibrate as a single, pure note when she’s in charge. The Queen will back her, she knows. From her Coffin World.

Just a little time to watch some tv before turning in.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Rosehaven^^

breakthrough

Pitch sat up on the soft feather bed. He’d made it! But what would happen to Mary now?

No Musician or Wheeler to be seen at the, um, *exit*. But that really wasn’t surprising.

Time to see what’s here in this Comfrey sim!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0414, Comfrey, Gaeta V^^

Silence

It took them a while to find the teleporter up to Audrey’s in the tall grass, the remaining bit of vegetation in Grassland created by magical seeds.

“We need to get The Lawnmower back down here pronto,” Paul demands.

“I’ll see what I can do about,” a smiling Peter replies, thinking he can find him sleeping at the Prog Rock Museum over in Kazzkark.

Paul looks around. “Where’s Mary?”

It’s as if she just disappeared into the weed itself.

—–

Later…

“Wake up Rip Van Winkle. Time to go back to work.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, ., 0414, Heterocera^^, Jeogeot^^, Lapara^