Category Archives: 0614

Roost rest

Emboldened by the speeding up of time, Shelley remotely scans the castle on the highest peak of the peninsula and then teleports directly over through double click when she finally finds something more interesting. To her disappointment, the place seemed vacant of life and energy. Except for these bubbles. Perhaps they are the key — ‘nother one. She sends a teleport invite to Liz to join her once she figures out what they are.

“Whoa!” Shelley utters when assuming the pose inside the topmost one. “Far out, I mean, far *down*.”

“Whoops, I’m falling, weee!” joins in smaller Liz, finally receding from Shelley agewise. One whole season (!).

They try a couple more before settling on these two for another talk about Wheeler and Newt, the peninsula as a whole, where they’re heading individually and collectively. Photo-novel 34 was coming to a close, ending at this location (as stated). But more adventures certainly lay ahead for them in the future: the core avatars, Baker Bloch (Newt in the moment; also Kid Shelley), Wheeler Wilson (playing herself and Liz presently), and the rest. They are a family now, traveling through virtual space and time and even popping up in Our Reality once in a while, like Arthur Kill in Tennessee recently in order to retrieve Spider the Dog and bring him back to the metaverse. We must catch up with that particular storyline soon, maybe after we finish with the kids here.

“Wheeler is *beautiful*,” started Shelley again with the observing and hypothesizing. “Moreso than I knew. I hope I look that great when I…”

“… grow up,” completed Liz for Shelley. She was beginning to hope that both would remain kids from now on. She liked the companionship. Although Shelley kind of avoided her at first, when she learned about the whole mother-daughter aspect, Liz could tell she was treating her more like a fellow kid lately. They were going on kid-like adventures. They were having *fun*. She decided to tell Shelley this.

“Aw, man,” uttered the older girl to this. “You *know* I have to grown up so that I can produce *you*. I have to find George. I have to get married. I have to get, well, *pregnant* — by George I’m assuming.” Shelley said too much here, she knew. Why the different race for Liz? In her imagination where he was produced, George was not African-American. She’d had future visions. But this has happened before — she can’t remember, can’t put her finger on it.

“Tell me about your mother,” she asked over to the smaller one, finally broaching the elephant in the room.

“She was *beautiful*,” began Liz. Wheeler.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0614, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

Tom

He came down in a beam of white light from the sky.

Mr. Bean, but not that one. That’s just a stand-in, basically a cardboard cutout of a 3D person.

The real one had blue eyes. At birth. Now…

But who’s that over there sitting at the visiting scholars table?

—–

The dead man in the teepee-tent doesn’t bother me any more.

I pick up my blue feather pen again and begin to write.

Dearest Greenleaf,

I know it was you in the woods today, sending me a message. Thank you. With the rolling orange mushroom head you were telling me about the path and the correct way to go through your precious ferns (kind of). You are protective! Very.

I will attempt to construct a Circle of Peace at Aloha. I know now that you would want that (yes). Guide me in choosing the rocks I need.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0614, Blue Mountain, City Park, Jeogeot, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula, Towerboro

02 records

There’s two of these things now, Debbie Doom thought about the colossal *women* statues towering above her in Lorsters Worst, queen city of Nautilus’ Yd Island. For now. Could be a hopeful *sign* — things have changed, and so on. Maybe the door… but she would know soon enough. She holds the key in her hand, dream object no longer. Because dreams have come true. She was *trapped* but for a good reason. It was the only way out.

Frozen pantomime, she determined about the crowd in the center of town and walked through it all, paying no attention to the fake conversations right left back forth. One objective tonight.

She doesn’t have to unlock anything. All she has to do is hold it and–

PRESS.

Showtime.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0614, Nautilus, Yd Island^

head regained

Carla covered her ears, sick of hearing the booms. It’s just as loud over here as back on the beach! she complains within.

White clad Morna beside her had bigger problems. She was about to be cast into the sea with the sharks by Peggy. Peggy didn’t want to hear no shit about Baker Bloch Marty Uncle Albert being a prevert, despite being the reason for Zizzy of the Ditzy and Zizzy duo to be shipped off to Camp Umbrella next to the Crisp Sea, or so she said. Now there was yellow between and a new element involved — more balance.

3rd eye. Triangle.

—–

“Let’s stop here, Baker, and contemplate what we just wrote.”

“W.”

“In the flesh!”

—-

We return to ring woman and the generation of it.

We are about to go up the path to see what’s over the hill, monsters left behind in the dust. 2:23 soon, tick tick tick.

How about that manual now?

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0614, collages 2d, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

choices

She was dancing in the center of the taijitu but she didn’t have a pole. Yin and yang halves spun round and round, making her dizzy. making her *ditzy*. They were almost opposite each other. She woke up.

She was blonde.

Oh well. Time to continue the course.

As long as she stays in Crisostomo and doesn’t veer over into Crispell she’ll be on target. Crisp itself.

Ooops (center of sea): *stall*.

In a subsequent dream, a rabbit driving a battymobile drove up to the center and asked her if she needed a ride . Wait — that was reality. Two days ago.

“Need a lift to the meeting, Wheeler?” Baker Bloch was always complaining she was late. This way — not so much.

“Sure.”

“*Hop* in. Get it?”

“Sure.” And she did.

But which meeting in Baker Bloch’s new rental by the Soap Bay Beach did she attend, hmm? It could be spun either way.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0614, Crisp Sea, Kowloon^^, Nautilus, Paper, Paper Soap, Wild West

00290614

“I think I’m going to like it here back on this Nautilus continent, let’s see (he studies her), Lichen?”

“Call me Blondie,” she requests. “As in ditzy.” But he knew this wasn’t true. She was just a comedian. “Watch this,” she then said, waving her hand toward the grill. “Fire.”

“Nifty.” A witch too.

—–

“So Lichen is involved now. This must be 1942. But where’s Fern; Wendy? Is she…”

“Questions,” W warned, who may be Wendy herself. “Gambling boat,” she answers about Fern at least. “Dixie Belle. See you there.”

—–

“Well that looks like it, gentlemen. Last hand: I win the boat.”

“I don’t understand what happened,” shocked Jim A. Brown to her left managed to utter. “All I had all night was clubs and diamonds.”

“And…” sputtered similarly baffled Zach Black opposite him. “Me? Hearts…”

“… and spades,” Fern Stalin finishes for him. “Yes, yes, very peculiar. What are the odds.”

“Odds doesn’t begin to describe it,” says Zach, trying to figure out how he’d ever win his Jazz Attack band back from this, this… *witch*.

“Time to bring out the girl,” she then declares.

Jim A. Brown and Zach Black look across the Belle on the table at each other. “Lena?” They weren’t ready for this but what choice did they have?

“No no no no no, the other one. The red haired one. The one we’ve been studying… collectively. Wait… don’t tell me. Is she dead? Like Maebaleia (continent) to us now? Let’s go with the boy, then, the Indian. But not Asian. Half and half. Is he still in his pod, bubbling away? I need to see the studies Rose produced, all the figures. Bring them… *now*.”

Her rapid fire delivery left Jim A. Brown and Zach Black drained of blood as if they were dead. And perhaps they were. Gambling debts gone wrong sometimes end that way. At any rate, they disappear from the scene, leaving Fern confronting… I suppose this is Wells?

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0614, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

Satin

In his old cave, he worships the wife before entering the coffee shop proper. Here lies truth, even though the shop itself is now broken. Broken truth, then.

“You’ve mutated so much it’s hard for me to recognize you these days. If it wasn’t for those eyes…”

“That’s what I’m here to talk about,” interjected Ruby, now our familiar green grey alien. “The *I*.”

Seven, Axis knew. The six and the seven. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have killed that old man with the kane.”

“Michael,” she said. “Plank of wood… I’m getting.” She became embarrassed about her wealth of knowledge and decided to reel it back a bit. Starting: now.

“Well, that’s what led me to *here*, yeah.” Axis took her in more. What a long way she’s come from his little Ruby, a naive girl of 15 1/2 not ready for the world at large. And here she is, beyond the world entirely. Extraterrestrial. Should’ve known, he thought. She always had the — best of hearts. Didn’t belong on Earth. “Well… you’re in charge,” he found himself saying. “You’re the boss. Where to now?”

“You’ve found the cave, good,” she said calmly. “Now you must find the art. Collage or painting? Choose.”

He looked into the multicolored flower with this. He knew he was being hypnotized but decided not to fight. Why keep going? Ruby was beyond what he was — a pure heart, a pure soul. He was ready to give it all up, the world conquest, everything.

She didn’t ask him to show her the other one, the person he stares at in the mirror. Probably already knows, he realizes. And doesn’t care. So… perfect. He must worship her as well.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0614, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island^

into it

Agent 47 reviewed what he found out in his head. So they moved Ruby Alien from the Asylum to the Hospital and set up a Cloud of Confusion between the two. Now no one knows the difference between a physician and a psychiatrist, which is exactly what Dr. Mouse had in mind, being both at the same time. Clever man. But Agent 47, with his coral-like brain, thinks he can beat him to the game. He also knows they’ve created a clone, but can’t recreate the green — “green is missing,” Martha insisted toward the end of their, er, bargain, he finally making it to the end and dragging along several pre-Agents with him. Yeah, he thought at the time, you get to experience this *too* — see what *you* think about it. Light at the end of the tunnel, pheh. There *is* no light.

“Mr. Peter File! Calling Mr. Peter File!”

The vet’s assistant looked around, seeing no one respond. She checked out the agent. She looked at the dog reading manga on her laptop and briefly thought how far they’d come as a species, thanks to the Powers of the town — Tim and Jenny Powers, Tim being the vet and Jenny the assistant. They traded off positions every other week, he being the dominant one right now. “Peter *File* — last call.” She stared at the agent again and wondered what number they were up to at the station. She’d heard rumors about the Anomaly of course. “None of you lot?”

Agent 47… couldn’t help himself. “Peter… *File*. Doesn’t exist. He was made up as a joke by the doctor. Now what *kind* of doctor am I talking about… Mrs. *Powers*?”

It was a trick caused by the Cloud of Confusion hanging darkly and dimly over the town, of course. Sparkles the laptop reading labrador, pretending to study manga, was actually, secretly taking notes on the vet and his or her assistant. One of our better creations, Agent 47 thinks while looking on, satisfied in the moment. If only he could get the darkness at the end of the tunnel out of his mind. “Agent 59,” he speaks internally down the line at agents that don’t exist quite yet but are in the queue, “did you get a glimpse of your dark, dark future? How about you Agent 70?” He was just picking numbers at random. Doesn’t matter: they’re all doomed. From his 47 position he could see all the way back to 99, but 100 remained in light. Blinding. 99 is where the images start to separate from the white-out at the end. *That’s* true heaven, he thought bitterly, not Martha Ram or any other woman for that matter. Because the closer you get to birth — well, they’ll find out.

He needed to experience reality in order to continue justifying his existence. Clones are standing by, as they say. *She* wasn’t the only one in trouble. Maybe they could make a pact — work together for a common cause (selfhood). But these Powers of the town stood in the way, confusing vet with people doctors or any other doctor you could come up with. Dr. Paul Mouse, formerly Dr. Paul Black (or dr.’s assistant Peter File, some say), was brilliant even, he decided then and there, watching the dog accomplish a google search for “Yankton Federal Prison.”

Nondescript Norris beside him was taking notes as well. Red Room. Don’t look at me, he thinks while doing so. Don’t *anyone* look at me.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0614, Paper Soap, Soap

Alysha

“She’s always over there just staring at the fire, waiting for him to come home and tell her what to do. Robot, I say. Completely controlled. *I* was the rebel. He didn’t like that.” She paused in her soliloquy to take a drag off her cigarette, a Virginia Slim I believe, long and lean on smoke. She blew what little she had away from the child sitting next to her, then turned. An Asian, she thinks. Just like Sally over there at the Coast Guard building. Could it be? She packed those suspicions away and sent them down a baggage conveyor. Nah: impossible. She’s just a lackey, not smart enough to live a double life, much less shrink down to child size if needed. This was just an innocent youth before her, a *friend*. She hadn’t had one of those in a while. Not since Bettie. Or was it Ruth?

So she decides to unload more. Why not: it makes her feel good and that’s what matters in the moment. Another drag off the slim cigarette; another pleasure. Today was the day for enjoyment, since this was her day off from that other job that’s suppose to bring joy but almost always doesn’t in the end. Except for Pete.

“The Fortress, it is called by some. Maybe John.” She stops; another drag, another exhale away from the child.

“Who owns it?” the child dared to venture, picking her openings carefully. She had to keep up the ruse. No time to get cold feet now. That will be later when she ices them down from the hot sand. Azura Beach! She truly loved this little hidden spot with its cute dunes just away from the Airport grounds. But she must remember her real task: digging for information instead of clams, although that would be later as well.

“K.C. some call him. Others: L.A. I think he likes to use the initials of famous cities. Maybe ones he’s visited.” She stares directly over at it, knowing the new gal, if you could even call her that, the robot, would be sitting in there, staring at the flames that would certain consume her just like they did herself. A witch, they called her, and then she had to live in that ditch behind the airport for a couple of months until she was able to at least rent this cottage on the edge of his property. He had at least the dignity to do that. And he’s probably just keeping her around when he gets tired of the new one, with her more ample bosom and brown-not-blue eyes. He tired of blue, he tired of normal. And always with the golf club; might as well be a baseball bat the way he cracks it. Always plays the odd numbered holes and skips the even. Then in the evening he evens it out with the even holes. Complicated man. And she could still spy on him, but of course that’s what he wanted. He wanted her to see the new gal-robot and how he controlled her just as she was controlled. “Look,” he could hear him say with his smokey, deadpan voice in her head, “and learn.”

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0614, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00250614

He was beyond the end of Route 13 now. He sensed a hole in the West here, something he couldn’t get to while corporeal. If he hadn’t wasted so much time chasing girls here and there, he lamented. But the Afterlife is all about regret, at the beginning. What could and couldn’t have happened, and so on. There’s always a gap between what occurred and the ideal, and a big one. Get ready for the shock. But the ideal still exists and that is the salvific force, the saving grace. The ideal *was* made flesh, and you can view it, you can penetrate it at points — non-corporeally of course, but also — sometimes — with real significance. And it is here in the West that Jeffrey Phillips decides he can start to make the changes he desires.

“Ahh, Barry DeBoy,” he says from his higher position, looking down. “Something about that island.” He penetrates.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0614, Collagesity Fordham, Crisp Sea, ENIGMA, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West