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Urch finally woke up after what seemed like weeks of dreaming. But it still took her almost an hour to physically move away from the bed. Everyone else had already gone.

She took advantage of the solitude; kept thinking and reviewing the series of dreams in her head…

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Finally she realized she was hungry. Everyone else was probably already at the mission beside Fal Mouth Moon receiving breakfast. But she still dawdled.

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One floor up, she met Jim Jackson Jones Johnson also hanging behind the others. They sat down on the couch which doubled as his bed. He complained about the poor condition of his back for half an hour. Urch moved on…

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… to the third floor. Old Turchin McGurchin still hadn’t woke up. Urch decided he needed to be roused. Sometimes when they sleep this late they’re actually dead. Urch was greatly relieved to see the old man stir after being yelped at.

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“God?” he began. He looked up from the bed at Urch, eyes focusing. “Oh… it’s only you Urch. Breakfast time?”

“Sure,” said Urch. “Wanna walk over there with me? I’ve got some more dreams for you to analyze.” Turchin McGurchin was probably Urch’s best friend at the hobo squat ruin they called home, a kind of, um, poor man’s father figure.

“First I have something to show to you,” Turchin replied. “Top floor,” he commanded.

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“Newcomers, Urch. Call themselves The Martins. Like the bird.”

Urch kept looking at the Spookmobile still parked on the lift inside the garage. It seemed familiar.

“I believe I might have dreamed about them last night,” she says to Turchin McGurchin. “I believe they have… a pet. Not a bird but a snake.” She was suddenly remembering more. “A bigger snake that turned into a smaller snake. Shrunk down.” She moved her hands apart and then slid them together as an emphasizing gesture. Urch then realized or remembered that *she* was such a shrunk down being. She was John Jack Lemon, old man and child at once. She sat still for several minutes.

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“You okay, Urch?”

She roused herself, then got up from the ledge. “Sure, Turch. Let’s go get that breakfast. Lemme help you up.”

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3 to 2 to 1?

Baker Blinker and Baker Bloch were alone now, sitting one table down in the Blue Feather. After her spiel, Hucka Doobie muttered something about heading over to Yeodeol to check on that letter making workshop she first visited almost 7 years ago. By inference, much was learned through the bee being’s One Pink story concerning Mid Hazel’s much more recently affected curse at New Island, and why the Spookmobile is both back in Collagesity and over there still at once. Dimensions remain split. The Bakers’ had a trick up their collective sleeve, however.

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The Core

Baker Bloch walks back into his Collagesity from the front gate of Old Mabel’s Clarity home (new name!) and pauses to admire its complex collage of structures.

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Ballerina returned to her rightful place beside Boos, check.

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A new being in town. “Welcome stranger.” No answer.

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Marv Taylorson never opened that garage of his here, thought Baker Bloch while passing. But Allen Martin’s got a much better setup over in Collagesity North now. He reminds himself that he’ll have to pick up the Spookmobile tomorrow. 5000 lindens for repairs! Well, that blows most of the money Baker Blinker made on the recent land sale over there, pheh.

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Into the private Blue Feather he goes to catch up with the town’s core constituents, meaning Baker Blinker, Hucka Doobie, and himself essentially. And also share news about Wheeler and Karoz Blogger over there on New Island. Karoz is returning for real this time! But alas — no, he shouldn’t think that. But Wheeler is coming back as well. The “Bill”, ugh.

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——

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“Thanks for sitting down here for a change,” said Baker after they had arranged themselves around a table on the bottom floor of the Blue Feather. “I’ll take one of the seats looking away from the forest since you two were so agreeable. But isn’t it beautiful?” He glances at the forest over his shoulder before unrendering the trees and grass to decrease lag. “I missed it, even in the short time I was away.”

“So explain, Baker Bloch,” opens Hucka Doobie. “You said you had something to tell us about Old Mabel.”

“First off,” says the male Baker, “we need to discuss a little bit about *time*. Remember the last Table meeting?”

“Sure,” states Hucka Doobie. “You were there.”

“No, I really wasn’t. That was Wilson. Old Mabel picked up on it. But here’s the thing — it doesn’t matter any longer who is who with what avatar. Not overall. I’ll show you.”

Baker Bloch turns into Old Mabel before Baker Blinker and Hucka Doobie’s very eyes, shocking them.

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“How?” is all Hucka Doobie could manage with dropped jaw.

“Well… Baker Blinker, check your outfits. You can do it too now. You see, our user had to first give me the power to also become Old Mabel because I had all the stuff. In any one *scene*, let’s say, it’s easier if one of the characters is me. Even if it isn’t me per se. So sometimes when I play Old Mabel, and I’ve been doing it frequently lately, then Wheeler becomes not *Wilson* but Baker Bloch — sometimes — to back me up. Of course Wheeler could also have the power to become Old Mabel. But we don’t like doing that to her.”

“Why not?” asks Hucka Doobie. She checked his outfits as well — no Old Mabel so far. Just her present form and the old bee outfit, her original Second Lyfe avatar.

“I can answer that question,” Hucka,” speaks up Baker Blinker. “It’s because Wheeler is different from everyone else here in town. I *use* to be her. We’re — what would you call it Baker Bloch? Complex.”

“It’s a definition we need to start thinking about, yes,” agrees Baker Bloch. “We’ve *all* changed a little. I’ve dropped the (Space Ghost) mask. Hucka Doobie, you’ve moved away from your Bee purity. But nothing like Baker Blinker has been through. And now: Wheeler. So we don’t like to tinker with what Wheeler is. That’s why she’s The Bill. That’s why she technically still runs the town. Baker Blinker knows all about this.”

“My time in the complex world is over. I’ve returned to basics, the simple. I’ve returned to what you guys are. I’ve had my walk on the dark side. I’ve stared through eyes of darkness. I passed that onto Wheeler, however, and I’m glad of it. I feel free.”

“You see, Hucka Doobie,” Baker Bloch says. “Baker Blinker needed to talk about this. Go ahead, Other Baker. You have the power now. Change into Old Mabel as well. The world won’t end because there’ll be two of her. Go ahead and show Hucka Doobie our user power.”

Baker Blinker decided on a different tactic, just to fool around with Baker Bloch.

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“Oh right,” he says. “I forgot about 3d Karl. You’ve been through this. And that was during the days of your dark passage. Very brave of you. Very brave indeed.”

“Let’s see if I can smile,” Baker Blinker says. She tries and fails. “Nope. It’s an old avatar, no longer available on the Second Lyfe marketplace. And the avatar is non-transferrable. So I’m essentially — most likely — the last Karl of my kind.”

“I had no idea about all this,” proclaims Hucka Doobie. “No idea atall. You’ll have to make a diagram to help me understand. You see, I’m still just a simple bee underneath at all. And I’m not inworld much. But I *do* remember one time I was here.” Hucka Doobie’s eyes slant knowingly behind her sunglasses. “See, I understand stuff you guys don’t. Baker Bloch, if you would insert a photo in your blog later on and I’ll tell the story now. The story of how I became One Pink.

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The right way

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“It’s time we do something with this TILE Temple,” states Baker Blinker to the always awake Carrcassonnee.

2 minutes and 43 second later: “Yes.”

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—–

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“How come you never removed the collages from SoSo South?” asks Hucka Doobie about 15 minutes into their rendezvous later in the evening. “I thought they were causing too much lag.”

Baker Blinker came up with an excuse. “I think the appearance of Jerome T. Newton changed all that. Him and Keat Owens.” She peered through the opening to her right. “Speaking of whom, where is he with our clean cups he promised. Coffee’s getting cold.”

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“And Steve over there” begins Hucka Doobie again, looking north now. “He’s only a dream being. But we’re not asleep. So that’s a continuity error.”

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Baker Blinker blows out air. “I can’t do *everything* in this town. I don’t have enough power. I can control Collagesity North well enough but not here.

Hucka Doobie and Baker Blinker become silent for a moment. Both think of Baker Bloch and Old Mabel on New Island along with Wheeler and Karoz. Baker Bloch is the custodian for this part of town, the main part. He’s the one who cleans up all the creative clutter here from the night before. Like Steve.

But suddenly, Steve the giant red robot wasn’t holding the sideways and backwards ballerina any longer. Urch had reappeared!

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The robot went away. The ballerina returned to her rightful position on the ground directly below.

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Things were moving forward again…

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Spindale

The expanding hole had consumed the cypher world which acted as a protecting lid. Gate wide open now for Urch. Allen Martin and son Doogie had returned to their crooked blue home to sleep for a couple of hours. Aspinwall had become so small she could fit into a matchbox. The Martins took her back with them.

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“A sideways hole, eh?” proclaimed Urch the orphan child, perched above. “No problem for me, however — time to see which way I truly spin!

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She walked through the hole.

—–

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The Great Wall didn’t turn into a giant ASP and consume the TILE Temple! Urch had spun the right way.

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Lidsville

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“Ahhh. You found the wormhole. Good work Aspinwall. Now come on out and rest.”

—–

One day later…

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“You see, Allen Martin. The hole grows larger and your Aspy grows smaller. Soon she will be a mere baby. It’s an exchange of energy. Once fully opened it will consume that world and we will be able to see what’s on the other side. Aspinwall will have her children.”

The elder Martin pries his eyes away from the spinning vortex long enough to glance over at Urch again. “I still can’t believe you’re Jack Lemon’s grandson. You could be him as a kid. I’ve seen pictures.” He tested the urchin child again. “And you say you grew up in Bennington?”

“Farmington,” Urch corrected.

“And your father was Patmos Jim?”

“John,” returned Urch. “But back to the hole, you can see it’s positioned at the end of that row of 6 different wall pieces. Those are the masters. The hole acts like a punctuation mark. The sentence is forming. When we know what it says, that will be the end. World gone. It’s a cypher world. It’s only purpose. It’s like a lid into another dimension. A lid placed there so you wouldn’t just stumble upon it and fall in.”

“What’s beyond?” Allen Martin asked Urch, face closer to the picture now. “Any speculations?”

“Well, we have a giant wall just over there.” Urch points northward. “An asp whose gaping mouth seems to want to consume Collagesity as a whole, starting with the TILE temple. The first three sims the wall passes through north to south are Athetis, Spini, and Pyri. ASP. It’s abundantly obvious that Aspinwall here is suppose to be associated with that wall. ASP in Wall.”

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“Yeah, I get it,” says Allen Martin. “Hey, wasn’t your mother a Tiler, Urch? Uma, wasn’t it?”

“Ursula,” she corrects again, shifting her weight to the right. “A reformed Tiler, yes. She accepts the existence of religions based on numbers other than four. Like your Christianity and its trinity. Like the Martian Pentagostals… so forth.”

“And what about you sprout?” furthers Allen Martin. “Do you follow in the sanctified footsteps of your mother or the dusty hoofprints of your father? Which way do *you* spin?”

“Perhaps I will only find that out when the hole is opened. Shouldn’t be long. See? Aspinwall is growing a little shorter by the minute. I’d say another day at the most.

All look down at the withering serpent. The bird on the plate seems to eye it almost hungrily.

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VW(XYZ)

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“Let’s see what this so called ‘secret society’ is all about, you Joker,” he says. Wilson goes into the VWX fairy house.

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—–

“I thought this is where he said the hole was, son.” Allen Martin pivots around, looking. “Where’d Aspy go?”

“Dunno pops,” answered Doogie, who continued staring at something in the distance.

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“There he is. Where’s he heading *now*?”

Doogie does a 180. “Looks like he’s going down the hill on the other side of this house or whatever it is… shed.”

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“Well keep up with him,” his father implored. “You know my legs aren’t what they use to be.” Allen Martin struggles to get to his feet. His son doesn’t move to help him, instead following the snake.

“Hmm,” Doogie says. “Now he’s on some kind of green table. “Looks like he’s waiting on us maybe.” Allen Martin hobbles up to his son.

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“Great. Another hill.” the older Martin complains. “Help me out a little this time, Doogie. Will ya?”

“Sure, okay,” the son says lacadasically.

10 minutes later they were at the bottom, staring at the picture. On the white pillar now, Aspinwall kept knocking his snake head against it in emphasis.

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“Hey pops,” Doogie finally says. “Doesn’t that kind of look like the picture of your old college down on the bottom floor of our house now.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” the older man replies. “I was on the wrong wall.”

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Martins

Hucka Doobie threw Baker Blinker a party at Perch in celebration of her recent land sale, a 3856 parcel in the northeast part of Minoa. Now I feel Collagesity is how it should be size-wise, with Blinks’ land costs reduced down to the next tier. I anticipate no more additions or subtractions to the town. It’s great as is.

Afterwards, Baker Blinker decided to go over and talk to new Collagesity renter Allen Martin to see how the move went. You see, Martin had *just* set up his gas station and backing house on the 3856 when the sale went through. The Bakers kindly offered to immediately move the still empty World of Collage building next door to make room there for his structures. Baker Blinker met Martin’s son Doogie in the garage. She was surprised to see Baker Bloch’s Spookmobile being worked on within.

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“Hi, I’m Baker Blinker.”

“Nice to meet you,” Doogie said. “Are you here for the car? Because we need to talk about some costs.”

“No, that’s Baker Bloch’s car. The other Baker. You know who I am, don’t you?”

“You’re the owner.”

“Of the land, not the car. That’s the other Baker. But I thought he took it on his trip with him, hmm.” She scans the car, verifying as far as she could ascertain that this is indeed Baker’s Spookmobile. “He owns the middle and south parts of the town,” she continues. “I own this part, the northern part. But not the car, see. That’s still Baker Bloch’s.”

“Well, I still need to talk to someone about this car,” Doogie said, thinking that this dame sure is chatty.

“Your father around, um… what’s your name again?” Baker Blinker felt it somewhat rude that he didn’t introduce himself properly but just kept going on about that car. That blame car.

“Douglas. But call me Doogie. Like Doogie Houser the tv star.”

“Well, nice to meet you again Doogie.”

“Likewise. So about the car…” Doogie, a born mechanic, couldn’t help himself. He goes on to explain that the whole exhaust system needs to be replaced. He said that it looked like the car had been sitting on the bottom of some ocean for years, a joke that hit the target dead center.

“Well, actually…”

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Allen Martin then walked up from behind Baker Blinker. She caught him winking at his son. “So, what’s a pretty girl like you doing here at this old, dingy garage.”

“I’m Baker Blinker,” she explained again. “The owner… of the land, not the car. We spoke on the phone last night. We moved a whole building next to yours this morning.”

“Oh, right right,” he said. “The *boss*. Well, I do appreciate it, I really do. We — Doogie and I — have been moving around quite a lot lately. It would be nice to settle down somewhere on the mainland and establish a clientele. Last place was up in Bennington. Let’s see, it was last Tuesday — right Doogie? — when the gangsters came and shot all the windows out. And then there were the fires, the floods, the tornados. No, Bennington was not a place to set up shop. A wild wild town. So we’re glad we’re here. Aren’t we Doogie?”

“I suppose so father.” He was still looking over the car. “And the headlights don’t work. Horn neither. Spark plugs and wires need replacing. Distributor obviously. You can’t put this car back on the highway without a lot of repairs.”

Allen Martin approaches the back of the car and bends down. “I thought I saw something wiggling around in that tailpipe, hmm.” Inspecting it and seeing nothing now, he rubs his peepers with his fingers. “Ehh, it’s been a long day. Just a trick of the eyes, I’m sure.”

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It wasn’t. The banded grey sea serpent waited until nightfall to crawl out of the rusting exhaust system where he’d been living for years and make his introductions. Allen Martin was still sitting at his desk on the top floor of that backing building, where, about a half hour before, he enjoyed a beautiful sunset over Robin Lane while thinking to himself that this is a place he could maybe stay a spell.

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Allen Martin was asleep, feet on desk, by the time his son Doogie yelped upon finding the serpent on the floor next to him while underneath the tv, trying to jerry-rig a free cable connection.

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“Nothing but static, phew hew!” slurped the snake loudly. “I’m Aspinwall by the way, like an asp in a wall. And I’m about to have babies!”

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