Making his way through the profusion of lettuce, tomatoes, and peppers in the community garden, avatar Clifton “Carbon Glow” Mahoney, fully transferred over from Baker Bloch and accepting of that new role, enters the cave system from the hole directly below the 7th and last spire of Castle Soos. Probably goes to Kentucky, Real Life, he’s thinking. Pretty sure. Hence the name: Mammoth, changed over at the tail end of the 2nd Robolution, the Panhandle Year some call it.
He switches on the light.
“Adventures in Tintown Part 4b of Tin”
“I know this man!” says Martell Mandell out loud. She couldn’t help it. “Fieldon!” she tacked on, thinking about 300, thinking about a lot of other stuff. Like time and space shifts. She begins to prepare for telling her alien boss, Abbey Abdominator, about the discovery. “We *must* investigate,” he says back to her in a daydream. Hopefully her imagination turns out to be correct.
“There! Told you!”
“Just because it’s a New Jersey substation of Nautilus and just because he likes to wear grey doesn’t mean he’s the same guy, Martell,” says Abs back to her upon seeing the “proving,” remotely taken photo in his mind. “I’m Grey. If I were standing in front of, say, a New Jersey welcome sign would you also think I was Harry, hmm? Besides, he denied he was Harry — said he was instead Jerry. I read the report you sent me. I’m not that detached from my position here at Star Team Interplanetary.
“If only Collagesity were still around,” she lamented while they looked at another photo she’d found in the Archive, hope waning.
“If only we could follow this probable route still up Highway 13 and down Highway 14 around and around…”
“Wizard,” says Abs to this. “Cube.” Her world turned inside out. And the Grey was the Man on top. Superior. *Not* a humbug.
“Look around, Martell. Where do you think you are? They are appearing all over the place. We have a way to go back *now*.”
“The… Void?” she answered, hallucinating the past. Shirley?
Still sharing her pictures, Abbey sensed a discrepancy between red-violet and yellow-green. These were not the same cubes. “No. Not The Void, Martell. I’ve changed my mind. We’ll go back to Nautilus… Jersey. But in that special way like we did before. And heading in backwards just for kicks.” Maybe that will solve the discrepancy I sense, he says to himself.
A mysterious pit, a waterfall, a cave behind another waterfall. Just routine type finds from another clear hiking day for ol’ Baker B (see captions).
Mysterious 20′ deep and 20′ diameter circular pit I ran across in nowheresville (about 4400′ elevation on an uninhabited mtn.). A lot of work for no clear function! Tough to take a good picture of — have to see it in person to appreciate.
Fairly big waterfall, perhaps 50′ high, and the first clearly legit one I’ve found in this state park. Stream’s name is Mine.
Smaller waterfall, but with quite bizarre little cave directly behind it. Not sure how far it goes back; gives the appearance of a “portal”. Interesting rocks leading up to the falls and cave, almost acting like an aisle to it.
Stream that goes nowhere in nowheresville.
The bees attacked from below. A mud dauber threatened from above. The toys agreed to stay perfectly still until I returned to keep down damage, but what could have been an event so special and wondrous turned out to be quite disastrous. Aloha (village name) seems to mean goodbye as quickly as it does hello. Looks like we’ll have to regroup and move again, pheh. Unless… no, can’t do that. Must respect the woods and the denizens already there. Like spoon snake. Like *hisser*. But the day was not without its casualties. Eye for an eye? NO… can’t go down that road. Just no.
Lisa Smipson the Vegetarian front and center…
… certainly a bright spot of the day.
What could have been. A town centre. Silver Surfer reclaiming the glory of a Blue Mountain thought to be over and done with.
Joker is wrongly imprisoned for the deeds. Bees! he cried behind the bars. Wasps! And it turns out he was right.
Aloha: the whole shebang.
Rock that was thought to be sheltering, pheh. PHEH.
She tried to find where the 2 lovebirds, Snowwhite Well and one (or both or neither) of her cousins, were married, Aunt Emerald becoming Maw in any case except 1. No luck; *had* to move or derezz some of the trees here. It all centered around a streetlight, and 2 of those were still in the area. But neither framed by trees as before, symbolizing or standing in for the bride and groom themselves. The groom: one of the 2 Dixons — Dixon One and Dixon Too — brothers to each other and 2 potential husbands to Snowwhite, their cousin. Tradition dictated it had to be one or the other.
But then she also recalled that one or both (or neither) of the Dixons were *killed* seeking the treasure that Snowwhite Well claimed was actually herself, the snow white peak representing her diamond-like brilliance and beauty and loveliness. Aunt Emerald (Maw) probably knew. She was attracted to Snowwhite like a man and she wasn’t that type. She thought her sons daft for running off into the hills, the mountains, to look for gold and diamonds and rubies when they had Snowwhite right here, the most valuable thing either one could have found in their miserable, schizophrenic lives. But, no, they had to look exterior to the city for the meaning of life, go on a silly and perhaps deadly quest. And it turned out it was. The Cross knows the story. The Cross, centered by Lineside, remembers up and down, right and left. The Cross remembers similarly killed Duncan Avocado where it intersects with The Straight on the west edge of the continent. *That* was in the Oracle; the reason for Colonel Flagstaff to be there. And I *just* had a dream about him, it seems.
Point is (here), they left the city and The Cross and got in trouble because of it. “So predictable,” Aunt Emerald summarized when finding out about their ultimate fates, whatever they actually were.
Yes, she remembers now. 128/128: right in the center of the sim. *This* is where they got married — this is the right streetlamp. The preacher between them must have stood right on this very spot while accepting their I Do’s. If it even happened.
These other birds could have told me all along.
(to be continued)
It always seemed to be raining on the island. Lightning and raining. She decided to use the transformative powers she intended for Opine on herself. Failure! How many times had she reenacted the tragedy in her head. Why did she position that particular tank over the stairs. Why had she not thought of the trajectory made when he fell to the floor. First time! But she had decided, unconsciously, she wanted it this way all along. A real true to life woman she was now, an Eve without an Adam. Dammit, Axis. If only I hadn’t been greedy and ordered two fer one Opine would had been stored in the safe tank, the red one instead of blue. Blue stands for dangerous future as opposed to safe past. Best to cut it off at the present, best to stay below the horizon line. Or at least keep the body down there, hmph. Pheh. Bleh! She threw up colors again, thinking about that head, that face…
Baker Bloch couldn’t help himself. “Hold on,” he said, delaying the meeting even further. “Lemme get another beer out of the fridge.
“Everybody good?” he calls to the assembled cast and crew while fishing out a Krings from its depths, including new gal Jinx Doll. Who invited *her*? he thought when she arrived at 15 til 8, 20 minutes before anyone else. “I’ll take one,” said Wheeler directly across from him, who wandered in at 8:35, the last to show up. Immediately before her at 8:25 came Opp, her true love. And then, before that (8:15), Grassy Noll, the most famous of all Mmmmmm’s, a species formerly inhabiting the Great Lake area of Herman Park. No longer. Now friend Wheeler originally questioned him about selling out his kind, but he denies it, despite being the only true Mmmmmm left after successfully transferring over to virtual reality using his massive wealth and status as bargaining chips to the Great God of the Great Lake in ’64, just after the JFK debacle he was also responsible for, a warm-up act some called it. Like Wheeler, although she was only echoing what she’d heard at the time. “He took a *shot* for you,” she grilled beyond cooking and into simply burning to a crisp. Crisp Lake crisp. Grassy was use to the heat, though, and took Wheeler’s best (return) shot in stride, deflecting it a little bit up and to the right like he was good at — he was *fractally* good at, in fact, able to whirl it down into a vortex hole if needed, out of sight and also out of mind to those swirling all around, still trying and failing to become a singularity like that. Bay City was renamed John Fitzgerald Kennedy City because of it but that was only Alaska. Things happen differently it’s so cold up there, far away from the heat of the grilling and burning. It was a displacement, you see. And because of it “America the Beautiful” became the national anthem instead of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” But no one remembered, no one knew, Marilyn (Lichen Roosevelt) least of all because she was so close to the subject, a tree for forest deal-i-o.
Baker slid a Krings over to Wheeler past the face of Al, the second to arrive after Jinx Doll at 8:05 and the last member of the Table to be brought up in this here post. He has 3 faces, actually. That’s the story we must go into next.
(to be continued)
Axis-Windmill watches Lester and Custer cross the road to the motel grounds. He looks up after they disappear behind its sign from his perspective, ready to erase another “S” to appease the new or soon-to-be new King of the sim. Paper fully separated from Soap; (fantasy) party over. So it will happen (!). That could explain the presence of the motel here, which Axis-Windmill recalls blew up just last month. This Thanksgiving becomes last Thanksgiving, a time burp as some put it.
Axis-Windmill turns from south to west toward another missing letter, this time a “G” down at the train tunnel, missing from “Missing Mile” (thus: “Missin Mile”). Gaining another perspective remotely he ponders the possibility of a Miss Square. Back to square one? He decides to ask the homeless person sitting in the street down from him.
“Miss Square?” he utters, causing the man to become aggressive.
A 5 minute rant about the sorry shape of the town follows.
And I suppose Dr. Mouse is back at well, killed in the motel explosion that didn’t happen now. Perhaps he’s next up for a visit.
(to be continued?)
“And this is Jackie. Jackie this is Herbert. Jackie is looking for another mate. Her old one… well.”
“Shot,” Jackie replied back and swam in a circle, brooding. And then another circle and then another circle. Then: stop. Something else was on her mind. “New?”
“Yes, Jackie. Herbert is brand new to our world. His ears have just been unstopped today. He *can* hear us, hurrah!”
“Hurrah,” the swan echoed back from her lonely pond, but with less enthusiasm. Still she was glad another human being woke up. They were short in that category. Peter was the last.
“Okay, Jackie. Just introducing Herbert around. You don’t get *too* down, okay? Someone will come along *very* soon for you, I’m sure.”
“Very soon,” she repeated. Again without much vim and vigor. Energy was low for the swan. She swam in 3 circles again and felt better. “Goodbye,” she sounded.
“Goodbye, Jackie,” said Hoppy.
“Goodbye,” uttered Herbert, understanding about 1/2 of what was said here. Enough to know that Jackie lived alone. He’d get the hang of it.
(to be continued)
(News)papers whirl together with leaves in a perpetual dust devil down at the tracks near the tunnel, reminding us of yellow journalism…
… in association with perpetually clapping *Kane* at the all day all night theatre just on the other side of the square with the “Pooping Pigeon” statue, as some locals have started calling it, blocked from our view by a mossy double oak with ivy in that picture up above. Or make that here:
And here’s Kane’s hands in the theatre, not to be confused with canes in hands, as in Dr. Mouse’s.
Checkered face Wheeler with him now, out on break from the banana, Mouse points again, making the connection.