I’m going to *search* out meaning in life while I have it. Like this Great Fracture or Fissure. What is it? Why do people live around it? Fractured — like this world, this estate. Why exist here?
—–
I’ve got to get out of here! thought Duncan Avocado while staring out from the Great Fracture or Fissure sim at the Spiral Jetty over in Hambone. Create some interactive land art; take some Real Life photos; something! Jackson Bloch did it. I can too!
But, no, his assignment tonight was to head down to the Last Drop at the west lip of the Fissure and interact with the locals; try to get some dirt on what’s going down. Besides lip rocks.
—–
“I dreamed last night,” began weight challenged Gabriel again, “that the Fissure was a great mouth, trying to tell us something. You know, that rock in the middle, that pillar, was the tongue.”
“We Camptons like to call it *Fracture*, reiterated Jed across from him for the hundredth time. It was a great debate: Fracture or Fissure. Another one of those split worlds, like we’ve seen with continental names Maebaelia or Satori. Another of those South-North separations, even. Because the South side of the Fissure, Camptons included, preferred Fracture, while the North side — Gabriel, et al. — preferred the obverse. One could *observe*, from above, the mouth speaking, true. Breaking away from Gabriel’s glare, Jed allowed him to continue his story, name problem set aside for the moment. “Alright,” he encouraged. “Go ahead.”
Duncan listened carefully from a nearby chair as the fourfold truth was told about the sim.
Sunklands 