Lisa the Vegetarian’s boathouse was still anchored off the west coast of New Island, but she had failed to find her brother, just like Wendy (one of ’em, perhaps the right one?) did before her. She’d heard of Picturetown by now and 102. She knew that the number stood for a game of roshambo, otherwise known as rock paper scissors, like the first 3 chapters of the red book and something to truly contemplate why this is so. Biff Carter might know. After all, he’s in it, but not the first 3. Instead the 4th, where triangle turns to square. He is just as dirty (in the book) as the doctor, the main character of the 4th. Instead of a private dick, he is a restaurant owner, perhaps of the Red Dress Diner if we mix up and combine realities again. But Biff Carter has been revealed — there — by his wife of all people, to be the same as Axis and may not reappear in this here photo-novel (24 in a series of 20; getting close to the end!), his story seemingly resolved but we’ll see. Maybe he leaves his cherished red book in a special place (Red Dress Diner again?) for someone else to find, perhaps Barry De Boy, or maybe one of the Wendys who seem destined to be a mate to him, like Biff-as-Axis has been paired off with… Wendy? Wheeler? We need to combine more characters, it seems. Have them play the triune game as well to whittle downward.
Axis is not Barry De Boy. I do have that much.
I wonder what chapter she’s on?
Sandy knew this was the dream to end it. She had a breathing helmet and so did the person before her. In the past.
“Hilllllsdale County,” she said to herself in that Texas drawl while studying the screen. Haven’t thought about that place since 18-86!”
A snake completing the task and swallowing its own tail appeared beside her. She remembered.
Back at their rented house, the local servant boy was offering them some kind of regional soup that looked grody to the max to Gill Alex. He instead stared out toward the sea, which at least they can *see* from this spot, if not visit. “Rain’s coming in again,” he observed. “Had a brief reprieve…” “Between 4 and 6,” Rock completed for him. Always thinking about numbers, he observed himself about his brother-lover. Always 4, always 6. Like clockwork. The rain just cooperated with what was already in his split hemispheric mind. Thank Gods for the topping golden hair. He could always talk rationally with that; it operated the mouth parts and most of the nose and ears. The eyes he couldn’t control. Gill Alex continued to stare at the sea and become one with it. He kept thinking of the eye they spoke about earlier. Tulsa was typing out her notes on a (regional) computer-typewriter by now, getting ready for a splashy, stormy front page story in the NWES Gazette. Picture here:
“Beautiful place isn’t it?” spoke the biker to his side. Hmm: Biker. “You won’t find a better place.”
“I don’t expect to,” returned Barry X. Vampire, knowing he was being kicked out by the head honcho. “Get your own sphere,” he said on our tour of the underwater gallery, seeing many of the iterations of Paperville in the past. “Collagesity can be as important as Paperville,” he then furthered. “You think about that upon your return.
Barry X. Vampire later contemplated the two were a balance, one focused internally and the other outside of itself, as in the great outdoors. They are kind of backwards from each other in this respect.
In this moment, the train outta here should be arriving any minute. Poetry had to run over to the apartment to retrieve a final thing, she said, but met Hucka Doobie sitting at Peter Oesso’s old spot on the way back. “Don’t — I know you?” she wanting to ask while glancing over, but didn’t have the time. She just passed and nodded.
Hucka had done her work. She would be remembered later on.
“There,” Wheeler declared. “Down at the bottom.” She bends down. “A blue eye!”
“Your… *missing* eye?” Baker Blinker asks, staring down as well at the grassy being with one blue eye, the left one (to it).
“Yes. We must observe this closely.” She stands back, taking in the whole work.
Newton Collage 09, (in)formally “TILE Waterfall”. She sees this through the checked description. “TILE,” she then utters. “Does *Karoz* know about this one?”
“We better ask,” Wheeler stated, not letting Baker Blinker finish. She could tell her new partner didn’t know. But Karoz was the last person Baker Blinker wanted to talk to right now. Not after what she had just done.
We may also note that this is the 49th collage of the 100 piece “Art 10 x 10” housed in the Collagesity cubic skybox called the Edwardston Station Gallery that Wheeler Wilson and Baker Blinker are presently combing through for clues. The 49th room of Kowloon’s 100 Story Building similarly contains a “spilled” black liquid combined with bright white. We’ve already seen it here: the dream cat called Space spills black ink while diminutive feline companion Star seems to spill a contrasting white milk and then revel in the mixture. We don’t have a white *spill* here, yet white *absorption* through a synthetic, ultralight porous material called areogel. The blue eye *eyes* the areogel, knowing what it actually stands for.
This is black and white combined again.
“Who will sit here in this chair, Eraserhead Man. Mr. Producer, teehee. The Queen?”
“Yes, Ruby D. The Heart Queen. Coming all the way from Horns of Hatton to visit this God forsaken *Yankee*town. Not the far, far North, but North enough. Chickens frowned upon here, etc.”
“Then what? *prrr*.”
“The South takes over. Like yin into yang. The balls revolve, like the Moon. Dark into light (EM positions his glowing yellow hands as if holding a ball), and light into dark (EM switches the hands’ position with each other while still holding the ‘ball’).”
“And the, ahem, little devils are waiting for this. Red Devil’s spawn. These are, er, Benny and Jer’s *brothers*, then?”
“There’s a couple of sisters involved as well. But: yes.” He peers over at Ruby D. A *different* Ruby, yes. More *ditzy* than the rest. But still Ruby. He can feel her essence. It calmed him. He could *hear*. He could think better as well. Yes, he could still *marry* this girl standing beside him. “And it should happen the day before the last Tuesday after the first Saturday of a month. Pick a month — any will do.”
“August,” emitted Ruby D. automatically.
“August it is.”
Main Street, Gregson.
“Well this is just a fine pickle, Buster. Professor Suckaluck’s super interesting smart house is gone!”
Buster was checking the About Land options. “And although we can rebuild — kind of — we can’t run scripts here. We’ll have to look elsewhere. Good thing I’m scouting out the total area, huh?” Buster puts hands on hips, defiant.
Bettie wasn’t going to respond to this. Suckaluck’s house should be here (!). Stupid, mutable Our Second Life. But the hills are permanent, she then thinks to reassure herself. Not going anywhere as long as the whole continent is around.
We’ll stay here at the peak tonight, Buster ruminates. Perhaps make love to rejuvenate ourselves but perhaps not. Increase our draw distances to the max. Enjoy the view over the Shallows this way…
… and the (rest of the) hills the other way. Those super interesting hills.
(to be continued)
“We all get old. We all get scraggly. We all… die.”
“Tell you what,” offered Bernie Big Bear. A manifestation sound occurred. “Eat those 2 special glam burgers over there instead of the 2 regulars ones and see what that does for ya. No meat in those beauties. Just love and sugar and warm, fuzzy feelings all around.”
Bracket Jupiter makes the switch…
“Disgusting,” he utters, and spits the first bite out onto the floor in front of him.
“You’ll have to clean that up yourself,” states the bear.
“I am The Light, The Way. No one comes before Me.”
“What’s happening to Me? No. Noooooo!!!”
Mystic Girl had finished washing and dying her hair, actions which gave Dr. Nightwing the chance to slip away and meet Audrey in the Asunder gorge.
“This road is deeply disturbing to me, Mystic Girl,” Dr. Nightwing pronounced in front of the identifying sign, somehow missed before in his investigations.
We must be nearing The End, Mystic Girl thought but of course didn’t speak aloud.
Not needing a reply, Dr. Nightwing took another gander down the long road, approx. half a sim in length. “No VW on this particular Abbey Road, but many *other* cars — seemingly abandoned alongside it, even in the shallow woods to the west.”
“And then a wall running almost the entire length on the east, allowing potential access into the next sim only through a small gate about halfway down from here…”
“… and then this larger gate at the end… actually, maybe a little beyond the end. ”
The Straight, silly, thought Mystic Girl. This is another representation.
“If we could only get through that gate. That’s the key. But we *need* a key to pass through. Another conundrum. That little car there must have tried and failed. Trapped in the snow with the others.”
“We are not allowed access. But that doesn’t mean something can’t come through from the other side.”