“It’s okay,” he says, peering in. “They’re actually all blue.” He turns toward me. “No choice.”
“Let’s go, then,” I said, and picked one. Any one. The slide begins.
And: out.
Category Archives: 05
00440511 (7 to 6 revisited)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0511, Back Rooms, Google Street View, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City^
00440510
I popped in the BD and then decided against watching it as a hooded figure came up to me in the metro train and asked me for money.
Then low and behold, in the BD I quickly replaced it with — starting where I left off in it from the last viewing — there the same hooded figure was again only a couple minutes in, an NPC type I’d never seen before tonight in my now many many hours of watching these kind of virtual videos…
.. and then *again* almost exactly 1 minute later, as I’m rechecking. This 3rd time I saw him tonight he turned around on the sidewalk in front of me just upon reaching a passageway to his right left, which I subsequently went through. He seemed to be indicating it to me through the actual maker of the BD if that makes any sense. This was one of those channeling events — in the channel district of Kabusie after all.
There, to my complete shock, I found a totally different world within, a Back Rooms to Cyberpunk 2077 as it were, zowie! This was obviously the thing he wanted me to see with my very own eyes.
Soon I was back in Lexi’s apartment trying to explain what I’d discovered. After finishing my excited description, she said at the window she so loved; not blinded any longer to the landscape beyond:
“So. You found the Big Inside, huh? WOW.”
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Sooo…” She eyes the finished pseudo-flathead style robot dog she named Ralph on the nearby table. “Our work can truly begin now.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0510, Back Rooms, C2077, Heyworth, Kabusie
00440509 (LOST no more (therapy))
“Eat Jack Sheepe power you loser!”
—–
“When I started mowing down pedestrians with my souped up riding lawn mower made from discarded plane parts, I knew I had to change or else face the consequences, like felony charges. That’s when I decided to become a leader rather than a follower. Else the pent up anger would keep resurfacing. I had to find my true potential.”
“Good, Jack. Good to get this out. We’re making so much progress today.”
“Well thanks, Clyde. Nice to see my big bucks I’m forking out to you are finally paying off, ha ha.”
“Riight. So let’s go back to the beginning (again). The vineyard. When did you return?”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0509, GTA
00440508
“My first real gig as an owner of a business actually came through the vineyard. I bought out the O’Neill Brother’s crop dusting business when 2/3rds of them died in that unfortunate fire which destroyed their family home, including the only 2 of the 3 who could actually fly a plane. Like me. Only later did I learn the true culprit behind the tragedy.”
“So… you knew how to fly a plane?”
“Yeah. Learned it from my 2 uncles growing up in Wrightsville Beach, North Carolina.”
“Interesting.”
“Isn’t it? Anyway, Martha — the owner of the vineyard at the time — said to come by every week to douse the vines with a special herbal pesticide she concocted herself, just like those O’Neill brothers did before me, and be sure to leave by 3, or else take a break at 2:45 and don’t resume until 3:15. Else — and the first time she mentioned this she made a throat slitting gesture with her hand and mouth, which of course I took as death. 3 o’clock — death; keep that in mind. But at the time I just took all of this as part of the peculiarities of the old woman and didn’t believe the stuff she was telling me. After all, she had a special recipe for pesticides, you see — a weird-o. But I still didn’t fly at 3. No use taking any chances, I figured. She later revealed that 3 o’clock at night would be bad for me too but didn’t mention it at first because she knew I’d only fly the plane during the day.”
“Why did you call yourself Jack Sheepe in those days?” he asked, thinking of the hanger and its sign. “Instead of Jack Shepherde, like you are now — like the LOST guy? But, let me guess: because you view yourself as a *leader* now, and not a follower. You changed the name to show this.”
“Correct. Do you even need me here? Sounds like you could have done this interview by yourself (!).”
“No, I need you here,” he says with no humor. “Now. Let’s talk about the move to the big city, how that came about.”
“First there was a detour. Through Christianity.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0508, GTA, Oregon
00440507
He was wealthy beyond anything he could have dreamed of now but he couldn’t help but keep thinking of his humble origins in that vineyard over in the hills north of Lost Sanos, before he became, as it were, LOST in the hustle and bustle of the city’s mean streets. Capitalism, greed took over. Lust for power. Money. A simple video editor of GTA V he was back then. First camera. Couldn’t even figure out how to add his own speech in for the longest time. But then the talking started, and it never ended. Deal after deal after deal, making his way to the top of the pyramid, stepping on the heads of his competitors along the way. Smushing down everything beneath him that needed to be dealt with in his path like accrued sedimentary layers of mud and preserved skeletons. He didn’t feel like he was standing on the shoulders of giants to get to this point. He *was* the giant, towering above the land of man, tall as Atlas. A man and also a whole world. In his head. He could see the circumference, could navigate the surface like a modern day Magellan to all ports of call here there and there to collect favors, debts, even bribes if necessary to keep the collective going forward. But more and more lately he yearned for that old, delicious glass of Pinot noir, his favorite, while staring into the tiled fountain from his favorite seat on the patio, and wondering how to actually produce sound from his lips. Ah, the good old days.
If only he could find his fountain pens he could write down the halcyon beginnings, but big bucks blocked the way once more in the form of an attache case full of dough here, lid raised so he could gaze in on his most recently acquired booty. And he also wondered why he converted his laptop into such.
“Gertrude!” he called on the intercom to his underling secretary, one of the beaten down, one of the ones trying to escape the pressure of the city and return to country origins in her own northern arcadia of the early 21st Century, Morro Bay I believe it is called, a place Jack also knew about; where they met, actually. “Bring me a computer in here pronto and, let’s see, let’s make it a 62 inch monitor this time.” Big screen needed for a big view of the world, he rationalized. His world. F- the pens, f- the fountain, *f-* the vineyard. His thoughts had returned to the normal ones.
—-
“Do you want me to remove the attache case to make more room for you?” she asked after bringing it in and setting it up, gazing down on his now even more crowded desk and also wondering why he converted his laptop into such.
“No I’m not finished staring at it,” he said brusquely, barely acknowledging her presence all the time. Return to normal as I said. She left without more words.
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0507, GTA
00440506
Q: Tell us a little about yourself. And how you got involved in the Mysteries.
A: Well, my name is Tom Morrow Jack Shepherde, and, yes, that’s like the LOST guy. Except with an extra e on the end, the 9th to complete the 3 and the 6.
Q: Cool.
A: Yeah, that’s part of the Mysteries too as it turns out.
Q: Nice.
A: So, you know, I came up here to the vineyard because I like the nice view from the hills. Figured I could, er, practice my video techniques in this cool setting.
Q: Nifty.
A: And then people, you know, my online GTA buddies, told me about the vine and that I should check it out. So I did. Just over there (he points). You can just insert that picture I took here if you wish.
Q: I will.
A: And, um, as you can see from this next photo — please insert again — I also found out that the vine glows at night, which my friends *didn’t* tell me about.
Then I found the ring nearby which was *also* glowing; just down there on a, um, culvert at the bottom of the vineyard (he points again).
Q: Tell us more about the ring.
A: Well, er, I connected it — eventually — to a marriage, like as in a marriage that took place at the vineyard. That was the symbolism that Rock* put in here. Or at least that’s what everyone — my friends again, my online chooms — were telling me. Then I started to have my doubts. I started thinking that the marriage in the vineyard was *my* marriage, as if I was the one getting married here. But not to someone else as in a human — not really. Instead: to the vineyard itself, the wine and so forth. And, ahem, Viney.
Q: Viney?
A: Ah, you know. (he lowers his voice as if this is just a secret between me and him) The vine.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0506, GTA
00440505 (the end of AISLE 01?)
I check to see when the next due date is on my Aisle of Palms rent. 1 week away. Decision time (again).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0505, Big Woods, Jeogeot
00440504 (the end of AISLE 00?)
Despite having a microscope instead of a telescope, she was able to connected the dots that were the lights that were the stars in the cube pretty far away in the nighttime sky into a triangle with her naked eye. Naked all the way down, actually. Helped her work, helped her with the unaided magnification when needed. Like here. Damn that Edmund Scientific catalog order mixup! she cursed internally.
One emerged from the 3, she observed with her 20/5 vision at least: Emily for a Rose, backwards, she knew, from The Zombies song “A Rose for Emily,” perhaps even the source of her own name too like Rose T.’s.
Falling. Falling.
—–
“Where *am* I?? And… what’s that *thing* over there humming like there’s no tomorrow?” New Southern recruit Tom Morrow from Horns of Hatton shows up and explains everything. “Sit down,” he requests to begin. “This could take a while.” After saying this he just disappears from sight while continuing to talk. Convenient — time saving, even. Like he was never physically, bodily there in the present; simple reuse of an old photo a number of posts back; no avatar appearance for Tom Morrow needed (only spiritual). But, anyways, she has her back story.
I’d end this with my usual “(to be continued)” but we already have, also part of Tom Morrow’s explanation.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0504, Big Woods, Blue Feather Sea^, Horns of Hatton^, Jeogeot, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City^
00440503
“Gotta light?”
“Lincoln!!” both occupants of the black car in the desert or at least the very arid landscape screamed in unison, their last coherent words.
—–
“Com’n Trevor. Time to go home.” And he dumped the lifeless body in the container, determined this would be his last Badlands gig. Ever. Retirement himself, if not in body, in soul. He had a old bunker picked out he could remake as a desert home. Even had a contractor on board for the remodeling process. Cliffside dwelling. Perfection. Half an hour tops now and done with all this. He got into the make-shift hearse and put the 4 way flashers on, Tiler Church straight ahead and then turn left and another left and then a right and then a left and right. And left, he believes. Then: done. Away from the grave and reborn. This old monkey’s about to acquire a leaf and turn into a new man. Adam. And he also has an Eve picked out. Mechanism, but it was the best he could do. They would manage. Box labelled Live Cargo should be arriving any day now down at the harbour.
—–
“What do you *mean* I can’t go home?!” shot back Fern, her business done here in The Aisles with Tin and all, with much learned and much to ponder about later.
“The Cpt.’s duties have ended,” he said plainly, not going into any details.
OD, Fern assumed. Or hospitalized or fired or a combination of 2 or all three in one. Well, something had to happen sooner or later, she rationalized.
“How long till you get another cpt.?” she asked, knowing she could pilot the vessel herself back to mainland if needed. But she had to obey protocols with this officer of the Navy, Army and Air Force in one. And perhaps the Marines as well, the oft forgotten 4th. She looked at the insignia. Hard to tell from them; designed that way due to the ’68 Force Bias Wars as they became known.
“1 day, maybe 2.” She looked at the many weapons about his body. She’d have to wait. He’d stand guard until the replacement showed up, she knew from his stance and former talk.
Finally time for that drink, she supposed. Time to visit Rose, one of ’em, maybe both of ’em before the day’s ended. She heads in their general direction from the harbour, letting her feet decide which is what and who first.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0503, Badlands, Blue Feather Sea^, C2077, Maebaleia/Satori, New Mexico, Twin Peaks
00440502
Upon exiting the shuttle from the airport where the ship “landed”, she immediately turned to the harbour to see if she could spot the boat. She only saw a head sticking up but that was enough. Hooded, she observed. This was the one.
Now to find Tin and clear this up once and for all, she said to herself, trying to retrace her steps from a month back now.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0502, Blue Feather Sea^, C2077, Kabusie, Maebaleia/Satori
Sunklands 