Category Archives: 0603

00360603

I’ll probably spend the rest of this here photo-novel tracking down a select group of past characters and try to convince them to come join me in Somoco (Soos Mountain Community), my new home on the Jeogeot continent. Like Karoz here, enjoying the view in a revamped Wendy sim. I’m not sure I’ll be successful in prying him away from all this.

“Just try it out,” I urged from the side. “The Julia House is all set up at that nice waterfall slash cascade you and Baker Blinker seem to like.” But I knew the problem was the missing N, which would in all likelihood never be recovered. And the same thing goes in the opposite way for his wife and thought-to-be soulmate Baker Blinker. So I decided to sit down with her instead.

She was living in a different part of the French themed city called Serenity — up on the plateau instead of down in the valley with Karoz. I did not have access to her location tonight. Oh well. Who’s next?

I’ve tried Mabel but just got circled back to Franklin, a fellow greenie, large-ish instead of small-ish.

Herbert Gold, then. Or his wife Lovey, changed from April Mae Flowers sometime between photo-novel 30 and now.

—–

Even though everything has changed around me, I still come here and wait and hope. Come find me again Baker Bloch!

Free me from these shackles.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0036, 0603, Mars^^, Wendy-Ontario

stop and go

“See the whirlybird, Tabitha? Whirl whirl,” she emphasized with a twirling finger. “Whir whir,” the toddler she was holding mimicked without the finger. The actual birds in the vicinity, doves, remained frozen between them, opposing frantic spinning with rigid stasis in protest of the “invasion”. Or so legend goes: frozen birds, later the inspiration for a frozen pie company.

Tar stepped out of the copter, followed by Guit. The experimental, guitar oriented punk-folk fusion band Tar Guit had landed in rebuilt Moray Docks Village, ready to put on a celebratory show for the ages. Trouble was, they sucked.

—–

I suck at this game, thought Liz. But I’m not going to let these bastards known it. Fiction power: on!

She expertly places the 1st black stone. Everyone had to play clean, the rules stated. So they washed them down before the match, these opposing horses or ponies. They couldn’t take a water or food break until it was over. The Watchers were going to have a good time with this. Because they knew Liz couldn’t resist. Then at the end they’d all give her a big Thumbs Down despite her seeming big win. “In reality,” they might chide, “you couldn’t beat Lichen with one hoof tied behind your midsection. Black never succumbs to white!”

“Does so!” she might exclaim back, and end it all with a fall of cards, or, in this case, a shower of rocks, inharmonious black and white mixing together in a fused mish-mash all around.

Robot servant Ruttitutti shows up, ready to take food and drink orders. It was over.

—–

Thank God, most of the scattering concert goers thought.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0035, 0603, Nautilus, North, Omega^^, Southern

Man in Cash

“Maybe the flag with the black spider on it makes people nervous.”
–Young Greti, Sound of Music

The more modern German colors of red, yellow, were fading fast, leaving only Black. Johnny Black, formerly known as Axis but changing his name for obvious reasons; same for his dog Swastika who goes by Spider now (thanks Greti!).

He also finds a substantial amount of money has been deposited in his bank account for some reason (goes with the new name, actually) and acts quickly to purchase this out-of-the-way, sans-indoor-plumbing shack he’s had his eyes on for a while. Center or near the center of some kind of Paper-Soap psychic anomaly, at least one time. He’s eager to try to resurrect, and he thinks he knows how.

He’s also gained 6 inches of height after, ahem, opening the box. It’s actually a different core I’m working with here, *not* Baker Bloch. A more suitable companion to Wheeler Wilson, a kind of reflection really. Sometimes also goes by Wilson Wheeler just to confuse and conflate the two even more. I suppose a comparison with notorious Real Life crinimals Bonnie and Clyde is not out of order either, especially given the involved women’s matching caps. Bonnie could have been an inspiration for Wheeler, along with Prince and his Raspberry Girl of course.

Newt’s also queerly acquired pointy ears in the transformation, like Spock. Best to get a hat soon as well.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0603, Paper Soap, Soap

telescope

“I need you to go somewhere I can’t go. Not quite yet. Another 2 or 3 months is all now.”

“Where?”

“Oh. Dear.”

“You’ll need to change into Miss Ouri (again). Disguise. (pause) I need you to tell someone they’re dead.”

“To you,” she attempted to clarify.

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Okay.” She planned out the strategy. She knew who would approach her. She found herself becoming nervous. Okay okay, she calmed herself. You’re the head librarian of a mid sized University — (a library) trapped in a castle; that’s the twist. You were instrumental in bringing a special collections room there, red-orange mahogany in outer appearance. Inside: the Arkansaw monster book. Along with a lot of other books and manuscripts obviously. But the Arkansaw one is particularly attached to *you*, being Miss Ouri and all. One or the other had to go in your estimation. Wheeler, presently in the form of his 3rd cousin Tessa — or Tessie to him — said all this aloud.

“Good good,” he expressed after hearing. “I’m going to stay here and wait out the rest of my sentence. Chop wood at the cottage I’ve picked out, etc.”

Turns out chopping wood meant just that and not a euphemism. Good for Eddy (our Edward)!

“And stay away from that pot shop!” she said while walking away. But he didn’t.

—–

“Thanks for meeting with me, Jem.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“For the weed, you mean.” Because they’d been seeing each other lately, rendezvousing in clandestine places all over the grid. Like this.

“Yeah.” They’d only taken one hit apiece but they were out of it. Far corners of space kind of out. Jem could see Muff-Birmingham looming in front of her, the sphere that is also a cube. Light side and dark side; jungle and desert or at least plains. Plain to see, she couldn’t help add. “Where are you now?” she said, focusing on him instead of the inside. Trying, anyway. Best to communicate to the other when getting too deep. And where is there some wine around this place, the red to counterbalance the blue?

“Home,” he replied as simply as possible in order to communicate at all. 3D. 26 1/2 years it had been. He cried more when he gave it up than when he sold his childhood home, one replacing the other in a way, in a manner.

He looked over at Jem, held her hand, held it tighter. Because he realized she’d probably be dead before he went back. He’d make the most of these 2-3 months.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0603, Jeogeot, Towerboro

Zero Club (away from bar (shapeshifter))

“I recall the first time I saw you, your (one good) eye. Staring out between Moon and Saturn standing on a piano with Sun while a man with a moth on his back climbed a blood red picture behind you, using your huge ponytail to get a boost.”

“It’s not *that* huge,” she retorted.

He continued. “They said she would never be invited again to one of these get-togethers since she brought so many friends and acquaintances with her. But 3-d Venus is alive and well, still with her many fans following her around like packs of wild dogs and cats.”

“In the flesh (!).” She indicated herself, her body. What else was different about her, he wondered.

He went on. “You lived in a house much like our user, front covered in wisteria as if in a protecting fence or wall. You designed the moat to surround a castle but then had second thoughts of leaving bucolic life; castle too large to properly fit on (your) island. Stymie, husband at the time — stymied still how he could have ever goofed up on a looker like you! –”

Cute tittering; cute covering of mouth.

“…was most often away exploring Viterbo, finding relics in the ruins. Then one particular relic ruined it for you; he had to move on, *you* had to move. And so on to another Rim Island, taking the house with you and adding another husband to replace the subtracted first: Jacob, 1/2 man 1/2 alien in this case, with 2 normal eyes below a united third. You?”

“Me,” she decided to say. “Pure bred. One single eye and no normal eyes atall, they said. But that was wrong. I just covered one up, the bad one. Clockwork now.” She indicated the spinning, geared wheel on her face, very fashionable, very retro future. She pointed to both eyes at once now. “Two, you see, just like you.”

“What’s under that tuft of hair?” he said, still doubting her and tempted to reach over and lift it to see for himself. Maybe then he would know if she was happier with Stymie or Jacob.

She changed as she revealed the truth.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0603, collages 2d, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Rim Isles, Squared Root City

uninvited

We start again at the House on the Hill at the summit of one of those islands we just spoke about, the two stranger ones representing retirement itself. A figure both male and female, one locked inside the other. And behind him or her, in the kitchen. A ghost.

We can call it a rock.

We can call it a planet.

It is the same size as our Earth.

It is associated with the color blue (like our Earth).

But it is not Earth.

It is from somewhere else.

And we need to treat it with respect.

I’ll let the darker one sleep this time, she thinks from her couch of power as the awakened lighter one is released to the floor.

But an occident occurred as he dropped too far and spilled down the stairs instead. “Oh my God oh my GOD.”

We could say the neck was snapped but that wouldn’t be the half of it.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0603, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

sold

The Samhain strapped a harness on her and put her on the marketplace. Legs too long, one potential buyer complained, and moved on. Thanks a lot! she thought. Should she have gone through with the reverse operation now? They were a 9, good enough for most. But this was Our Second Lyfe, where perspective is a little different, physics too. A 9 in Real Life could actually be a 10 here — hard to put into words. “Take off that silly red lipstick,” one said before the strapping. “And the blue eye shadow — NO makeup!” the other, even more haggardly one beside her barked. They were Samhain but they were also types of witches, even if they despised that appellation. They reserve it for the East-West duo and the In-Between 3rd, the fruity one, who is also a blonde. Like her. No wonder they hate her so much. “You should have kept your legs short,” they also said, hearing the complaint from at least that one gentlemen who wore a fine tuxedo and black velvet top hat to match. He’s one to talk! He must be 6’10” if translated to Real Life, she thought later in her lonely cell, after all the sales people had retreated from the scene, the tableau even. She was secretly making an arrow for her bow, just over there. You have to look hard in the corner to see it. Magical it was, thus the camouflage. She had plucked the hen for feathers; she had sharpened the flint tip with her chisel and ballhammer; now all that was left was the shaft, and she could complete that tonight, when everyone was either in the bathroom in the dark or in bed in the dark — all the Samhain heathens. It wouldn’t land at just their feet this time; that was just a test to see how far she could go without them noticing. All she needed was a piece of lumber.

—-

Damn! she thought at 9:15pm. The guard that is actually competent is back from being sick on pill. Can’t get to the sawmill beyond his bench.

—-

The Abbot rode into the marketplace on a white horse the next day. He wielded a shaft of the exact proportions she needed, another 10 to her. He dangled it enticingly in front of her, asking if this is what she desired. What could she do? The alternative — with the Samhain *witches* — was the greater of 2 evils, at least it seemed at the time.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0603, Dairocha, Nautilus, North

now ironically named fire station

“Just remember that you are water and you’ll be fine.”

“So… hot.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0603, Paper Soap, Soap

BoB

“I’m not dead!” he cried to all those sitting around the grave site looking down. “It’s *just* a ring.”

It all came together at the end for Mouse. Too late, of course.

—–

“So this is it,” Man About Time exclaimed mildly. As usual. “The thing that did him in.”

“LOVE, yeah,” answered Jeffrey Phillips, wondering how he himself could talk again. He died as well (!). “He… couldn’t pass through the O, got stuck in it. Spy Guy Benjamin tried to help, but…”

“… got stuck himself,” completed MAT for Jeffrey, having read the story up to this point too. What was the point? Just close the damn coffin lid why don’t you.

“He can’t die in Vain.”

“He didn’t,” answered MAT truthfully.

“Good for you, MAT,” said Jeffrey Phillips. “I didn’t think you would take this so swell.”

“It’s just a game. Endtime.”

“Yes, death will do that to you. Lure you in, like a fish. And when you land on the shore — it’s *only* when you land on the shore…”

“You see the water,” completed MAT again.

—–

Next door (sometime in the past):

They say the doctor before this new one, Jr. — he was married to an alien woman. Found her spaceship crashed up in the hills.”

“That’s — not — right,” the littler golden robot squeaked back.

“You’re right, Jr. It *wasn’t* right. He should have turned her *in*. And now he’s paid the price: banishment. *Now*, are you ready to go inside and let the new doctor, this Diper fellow, take a look at those gold plated tonsils?”

“Guess — so.”

“You guess so.” Claude Sr. blew out air from his mechanical lungs. “I had mine taken out about the same age as you are, in fact, the exact same age.”

“12 — I — know.”

“That’s right, Jr. 12. All mechanoids have to have their original tonsils taken out, then. Else: viruses.”

“I — read — the pamphlets.”

“Nice.” But Claude Sr. knew it wasn’t tonsils that were taken out. The pamphlets lied. He’d find out soon enough. Just like with Santa Claude.

They head inside for the operation.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0603, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Soap

leading

“You weren’t here the other night.”

“I wasn’t,” he admitted.

Both stared at the same spot for a while. Finally:

“Expecting someone?”

“Nope.” Clear and crisp from this stranger with new arrival to town Greg Ogden, free to roam now that Dr. Mouse had retired over in the Asylum where he was staying. But Dr. Mouse knew this of course; he was monitoring the situation closely. Currently he was seeing the spot too through his bug and was wondering the same thing that Greg Ogden was: what gives?

—–

It actually didn’t take long for Greg, and Dr. Mouse through him, to figure out Brut, as he called himself, was part of the plasmic Anomaly that threatened to take over the town. He was indicating himself.

—–

He recalls… a caterpillar.

*Now* what’s he staring at?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0603, Paper Soap, Soap