Category Archives: 0417

Black D. 03

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:

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0021, 0417, Black Ice, Jeogeot^^, NWES Island

shoes

“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.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0020, 0417, Abbey^^

Areogeleye

“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?”

“I– I’m…”

“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.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0417, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

section’s end too

“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.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0417, Gregson, Maebaleia/Satori^^

THIS SIM 04

“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)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0417, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori^^

beyond

“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.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0417, Lower Austra, Nautilus^^

Sideways

“I am The Light, The Way. No one comes before Me.”

“What’s happening to Me? No. Noooooo!!!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0417, Middletown, Rosehaven^^

hidden

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.”


Her Majesty.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0417, Purden/Snowlands^

dammed 03

“What does it say in your little red book about me? About us?”

“Let’s see,” improvised Jill MacGill through Gwin again. “‘The Story of Doris and Gwin’. Sorry: ‘Gwin and Doris.’ Says here we’ll be married in 2 years. Will stay with Aunt Sally until the crops are harvested. Then we’ll be free to live out our days wherever we choose. But, again, says here: Wallytown. That’s why I need the book. To learn all about our future home.”

“All right, all right,” cedes Doris Drane across from her. “We’ll go back to the library and get the other book. The big blue one.”

Gwin rushes over and kisses Doris full on the lips, then sits beside her, holding her hand. Yeah, this is some *real* acting, both actresses think (hint: they despise each other).

—–

“Smells weird in here. Old book smell, I suppose.”

“Shhh. I’m trying to read.”

“I thought you were just going to steal that book. Not read the entire thing while we’re here.”

“I’m reading up on the part about the wall. The Green Monster. So… shhh.”

Doris Drane kept quiet for a bit, then started again.

“Never heard of a tree eating wall,” Doris rehashed some of what Gwin was saying before. “Glin or Glinda, Gliph or Glyph — with an i and a y. Why do these cypress trees always come as, um, twinned pairs of the opposite sex that don’t, er, don’t know anything about the other half?”

“It’s only one tree,” corrected Gwin. “It can appear at different times in different places and think it is the same. Like I could sit over here and talk, and then we could switch chairs and I could talk over there. But to the tree, it’s as if the switch never happened. They’re always where they are.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Doris noisily scooted back her uncomfortable wooden chair and stood up. “I’ll be freely roaming the grounds if you need me. I’ll check back in about, say, 30 minutes?”

Gwin is absorbed in what she’s currently reading (trees have 2 souls!) and doesn’t respond. But then improvises: “Watch your navel!”

God I hate that woman, Chloe Price thinks. And EM is letting her get away with all this!

—–

I wonder who’s actually sacrificed here? Doris ponders, laying in the center of an elevated stone circle. Trees? Fish? Fish people? Her mind is running wild.

Huh (mysterious floating pylon).

“Hello. Anyone home?” But Doris needn’t had worried because no one lives here.

After waiting the appropriate time, she goes inside and sits at the dining room table. I hope those are candy bunnies on that platter over there, she thinks.

Hmm. 2960. Probably another empty building. I’m not even going to knock this time. Feeling free to roam indeed.

Lemons and lime; that reminds me of something.

This is a little different.

Don’t mind if I do.

What’s this? My foot must have accidentally activated the screen. Doris studied the graphic.

“Gunn Mobile Trailer Park,” she spoke aloud, then saw the byline at the bottom. “Your Darkness.” She settled back in the executive chair. “A game. I love computer games.” So she just decides to start a two person round with herself.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0010, 0417, Urbane Blue/Fishers Island^

net worth

The couch here is unusable, with no sitting scripts. Tired of standing, Bill (Wheeler) rezzes a wearable chair in Philip Strevor’s so-called “waiting room” and tries to be patient. 1 1/2 hours Mrs. Hazelhurst has been in there, she complains inwardly, but does not dare to say aloud. This place has been bugged for as long as she can remember.

—-

The Boss was admiring his mermaid cabinet when Bill walked in. She had not seen Mrs. Hazelhurst in the hallway but had heard the shutting door. Bill figured she exited through the lounge.

“Red, green, blue,” he began, describing the string of shiny, netted balls immediately before him. “The mermaids and mermen called them marbles for some reason.” He turned to face Bill. “How can I help you today?”

Bill crossed her arms. “You called *me* here. Remember?”

“Oh yes. Of course.” He waved for Bill to be seated. He took his place in The Boss’ chair. “I’m sorry there’s no chair available. The maid took it off for cleaning.”

“That’s all right,” Bill said matter of factly. “I came prepared this time.” She rezzes her wearable attachment again and automatically has a seat in it. She then positions herself so she can face Philip squarely.

“Rat lost his property in the Pond District,” he then said, appearing to scan the photos on the bulletin board beside him. “Owner came back and returned his vanity, his ratmobile. Now why would someone squander a perfectly good piece of property beside that beautiful Linden right of way, not rezzing a house, a farm, nothing?”

“They don’t appreciate what they have,” offered Bill. “They don’t understand the beauty, the loveliness, of Our Second Lyfe.”

“Perhaps.” He leans forward, looking down to consider and then up again. “We made your chess move while you were away playing that role. “Pawn to King 3. I hope you don’t mind. We figured we couldn’t keep Ellen waiting any longer.”

Bill felt the anger rising within but bit her tongue again. “I see,” she managed after a weighted pause. “And has Ellen had time to respond? Or is he still stuck on the beach?” She tried to smile but found she couldn’t.

“The New Island beach, yes,” Philip Strevor said nonchalantly. “The Hook I think they call it in that Moth Man’s book. He removed his web site because of us, you know. Didn’t like the idea of another New Island besides his own. The one *he* owns the trademark for. A public/private domain affair again. I have a whole drawer full of those kind of documents.

“I know,” replied Bill. “She then glances at the money and Philip follows her eyes. “Still haven’t put away that wad of cash, eh? Gloating at the clientele, are you? Like me.”

“No,” Philip said. “That a new stack. Mrs. Hazelhurst graciously gave it to us in return for her safe passage to Zindra. Lots of people leaving this place, Wheeler, er Bill. The axemen and swordsmen and their ilk can’t keep them here forever. Soon enough, people cave in on paying the price. Your friend Roger Pine Ridge is next, if you ask me.”

“You’re barking up the wrong tree there, I think. Roger doesn’t have any money. Cyberpaperdoll got out of the village with that cash they made from the (ruby) slippers heist. Roger thought Iris would be safe — away from prying eyes over at Collagesity. He was wrong.”

Philip settled back into his seat, getting comfortable. “I know all about that. We don’t want his money, we want his *time*. Though brain damage could come later.”

“Hmm.” Bill paused, then: “How much time does he have?”

“Two, three, four weeks on this?” Philip answered as a question.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0417, Iris^