Well, Eric is not standing but the sentiment is definitely there. He’s reconstructed his Delta based blue and yellow tent in the Collagesity library, either skybox or ground, take your choice. Even both or neither if you wish, reader’s option. It could be time to get more of his story. “I’m assuming you’re a man, and not an Erica.”
“Correct,” he says in his dreams to us. Because he only exists on Delta and has those memories during sleep. When he wakes up, POOF. Gone.
“I ran out of money what can I say. Life’s circumstances. But I got too far out, saw too many things.”
“UFOs?” I guessed.
He looked out his tent toward the New, toward the regulated pine forest across the meadow across the river. What he saw was inside that. We have more information.
Erik wakes up. He later sits at his visiting scholar writing desk watching the tent start to glow in his mind. “Strangest dream,” he mutters to himself. “Something is not right.”
Rose Wells’ first Tesseract House, in Diagonal but also Linesville according to other sources. Combined: Diagonal Line(sville). Fitting. Probably called Eyela at the time but perhaps Leela. This started the whole Nautilus continent-US of A hyperlink back in the mid to late 1800s. Marvelous. Fantastic.
She liked multicoloreds but this was ridiculous.
The attack of the cubes. She knew who was behind it. Thank Gods he wouldn’t be showing back up for months, maybe years.
Right over there he was. My greatest creation: Harrison Ford Jett. I’ll never get close enough to call him Harry, but *Jerry* might. What’s her name again now? he thinks, folding his arms behind his head in a mimicking action. Sally?
Bluebird, he remembered later, descended from Blackbird. And he was a whole band on the run. Perfection.
He sat at the table outside the bamboo hut he’d rented several days back and thought about All Orange and what he’d lost. The phone rang (D Flat). The phone never rang.
“Hallo?” He was expecting someone jovial, not saturnine. He was surprised. He stared at the missing blue eye on the Book of Monsters before him as she continued to chatter. He dare not crack the cover lest the other one roll off. Especially now. Would he get a word in edgewise?
She hung up the phone. “We’ve got to keep an eye out on him,” spoke Jeffrie Phillips, glancing over at his bamboo hut across the water. “He may even try to off himself, say.”
“No he won’t.”
Her hair was now the green of seaweed but she was no monster, or at least Jeffrey thought. Was she?
“What next?” he queried about her appearance. “Your skin turns green?”
“Maybe,” she shot back quickly. Both knew that if this happened she was lost for good to him. Maybe even the mohawk would reappear.
Something was happening on this sim. A painter paints. A complainer complains. ART appears. A perfect circle. Pooh with his honey pot moves away from the scene with little to no impact now.
A perfect circle, eh? I thought, yellow included. I knew what this meant.
I wish I could say Jerry Lind found the Fortress but I’m not sure. A word of the day but perhaps not this particular day in the late of May. I wish I could say the 27th so I did. Jerry Lind was 2 years old, yet a striking young man with Asian Indian features and with red complexion like an American kind. It’s like he entered The Sphere at New Delhi or thereabouts with its American Indian street names and profuse graffiti and collapsing black hole style garages and then couldn’t find his way back out. It’s that way with the Fortress as well: one door in, no exit. You were one with God. Happy birthday, 2!
“It’s like I couldn’t touch him, he was so damaged with the rain pouring into his head like an inverted sky. He had the circular umbrella unfolded wide, yet the water came and came, shower ON.”
“I’m sorry, W,” I responded. “I know that must have been hard.”
“You don’t know the 1/2 of it. The *1/2* of the 1/2.”
“That must have been 1/4th as hard as I can possibly imagine, then.”
“You said it! Wait, what?”
I was on a trail again, per usual. A Yd Island profile led me to here: Fonzerelli Docks, a New Babbage location which seems to have seen happier days in the past. Former owner: C. Thetan of Nova Albion. Ahh yes. Our Second Lyfe just keeps pulling surprises on me. I figured it was this location that “Fancy (Dress Ball)” Sally (Nugent?) fled from her creator we talked to a couple of posts back, but I’d have to place her here if so. No problem! Let’s meet up with her at this Ruby’s Pub, apparently a popular local watering hole and just next door to the docks.
Turns out we met at Merryman Pub on the other side of the docks, I’m not sure why. Yoko Ona was there, talking about eggs and the whites of eyes. Linda Halsey showed up and they had a punch fight, one pulling for Salieri and one just pulling hair. Finally Sally arrived, declaring herself Sally Fancy and Nugent no more, and everyone settled down and became curious and started asking her questions about her new and also former life with Halloween Jack at Phantom Hill and perhaps some other places. And of course about who we might call Dr. Not Mouse, because he wasn’t, and who created Sally and Jack both and gave them a starter house next door to his Phantom Hill Castle where they raised designer horses and played cards until midnight every day, sometimes poker but also sometimes Miles Bourne the French road game. And that’s how they met the aliens who broke down over
on Highway 70, Bert and Jenny, as if the latter game had moved into reality, which is truth. They looked and looked but the most valuable card, the Right of Way, was nowhere to be found. The aliens Bert and Jenny suggested under the table, and then in the kitchen, perhaps where they were slicing bread between hands for sandwiches. The aliens got the association as well. Nowhere could it be found. Bert and Jenny were here to stay.
“We ended up playing Miles Bourne most nights,” Sally explained, “but it was like the German autobahn in there. ‘Fasten your seat belts!’ Jenny would always exclaim after the cards were dealt, and it also always ended in disaster. We were just recreating the wreck over and over.”
“Get away from me, get *away* from me!” But Elberta had only been dreaming. Something was after her, something that came up from the swamp, down that very path over there. She was in the middle of the swamp that use to be a lake and she couldn’t remember how she got here. She sheathed the knife she drew in the panic of waking up. “All a dream,” she said, trying to comfort herself and not doing a very good job. Something *was* here.
“Thank Gods that shaking is finally over,” Charlene the Punk declared to Harrison Ford Jett, still with those apples. “Getting on my nerves sooooooo bad, arrgh.”
“The sim below Brodovima we’re in presently,” Harrison recites mechanically. “And an expression commonly used in the famous Peanuts comic strip.”
“Arrgh,” she exclaims again to something different now. “No it’s not. That was ‘aaugh’. I should know.”
“Right. Being Charles’ brother.”
“I’m technically still a Brown. Jeffrie and I aren’t married yet. We may not even be engaged — hafta check. But *you* — you’re different sir, different indeed. She looks at his face, and then down at the apples again still in place in the blouse-shirt. “You’re…”
“Don’t say it.” He looks at her own blouse. He’s guessed what he is. It changes.
Charlene drinks alone now. Maybe she should wander up to the bar and talk to The Mann, also drinking alone. Might be worth a try.
And this is how Fern met fellow shapeshifter Lichen, with Wendy still in the future.