“Ahh. Justt liike Bakker Bee saidd. Here att *Cee*. Four headds as one. Sam Bee, Duncan Aaa, Parasoll, and, lett’s see, Charrlie?” Ruby Fanatsie considered again. “Banana Boyy, yess. And *I* inn the middle againn. The *centree*”.
Ruby walks further; passes the left pair of walkers and enters the circle proper. C. Right pair of walkers straight ahead.
Ruby Fantasie pauses at the right pair, then looks around, stupefied. “I have entered a collagewold! And I am talking local again. Baker B. must be nearby. Very nearby. But this is Sam Bee true enough. Basketball. Orange and basketball as one. Orange Peel.”
Ruby turned around. “Geez, Baker Bloch. You scared me! I am almost on top of you!” But Baker, I, couldn’t answer as this was collagewold and not the real wold.
Still, through the density, I was able to eek out a weak “saucer”. Ruby stared ahead down the road with this. The Pineapple Highway Road.
The spectre of Private Investigator Keat Owens didn’t phase her a bit as she continued.
(to be continued)
Squall Camp Site, thought Golden Josephine. This is where it all started for Gaeta V, planned to be the first of five continents in a Gaeta super-system. Only a bit of a second actually came to fruition: the Willy Continent as some humorously term it because of its resemblance to a penis and balls.
Legendary explorer Magellan Linden‘s airship: crashed on the beach here, or at least washed up here. Parts now on the land; that long, towery thing in the water over there — undercarriage to the dirigible perhaps.
The continent as a huge, peanut shape wilderness, the land closer to shoreline liberally dotted with linden palms. A kind of mountain range in the middle, true, but not like the dramatic, spectacular ones found on the old continents — even Corsica just to the west has a much more interesting topography. Everywhere the gradual slopes tinted that oh so tiresome Gaeta Green, as she called it. You can barely tell you’re walking uphill until you reach the top.
Where has it all led to? Vast majority of the palms long gone. Civilization came. Civilization has largely left now, she thinks bitterly. This is where Our Second Lyfe bleached its face off in an attempt to start something new and different. This was the end, though, and not a beginning. Plans for a continental super-system long in the rear view mirror. Number of Second Lyfe residents decreasing year by year. Capitol City, The Tree, are not too far from being all that we have left here. Lone pit or *sinkhole* filled in and smoothed over. Pittsboro becomes Pittinger becomes Darksity becomes Capitol City. Bland and boring. You need that wacky weed to liven things up, else one could go mad. Poor Marion.
She gets up to examine the camp site itself. Various pieces of trash litter the beach, the majority of which appear to be liquor bottles. Yes, Magellan was noted for being quite the drinker. And litterer.
A teddy bear left behind as well inside the lone, remaining camp tent. Seems to, um, bear a likeness of Magellan Linden himself according to the object’s description (sorry).
Tourists showing up. Time to take my golden hinny back to The Tree.