Category Archives: 0615

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“I’m starting to like the classical view of Our Second Lyfe more than any other, like this standard midday environment here, Wheeler. I’m starting to think the original Lindens had it right at the beginning. Linden trees — never surpassed. Classic avatars…”

“Like me,” Wheeler jumped in. She smiled toward Newt, her husband past present future, if not her current boyfriend who was another. She was many things in one. Just like Newt, I mean, Baker. But not her boyfriend. A figurehead. A prime minster for a queen, king hidden away in the shadows still.

“Liz knows,” says Baker/Newt. “Shelley didn’t tell her but she knows. She’s older in a future kind of way.”

“Strange way to think of it (!),” replied self playing Wheeler. She was not as shape shifty as Newt/Baker, but superior in other directions. They were complements.

Pause as they took in the pretty environment below the revived Roost Castle. They’d followed Liz and Shelley there, since they were them.

“You know what Shelley said today — just a moment ago, actually.”

“That you were beautiful?”

“Yes.” She looked over at Newt expectantly. Would he say the same? Her legs were too long still, she felt. He didn’t think of them that way any more and said so. She needed reinforcement. The scars on her face from that steam accident were healing but still showed up in the mirror when she stared at it first thing in the morning.

But he was not her boyfriend. “You better get ready to play the role of grown-up Shelley. Coming up soon, you know, maybe this photo-novel, maybe postponed to the next. But she owns the castle. You is her,” he finalized.

We have a mystery in the middle which is the end.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0034, 0615, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula

head and heart

IMPORTANCE OF CLEAR INSTRUCTIONS

I asked the patient’s mom about the skincare regimen they were using, including their choice of soap. The parent said they were using Ivory soap. She said the previous doctor said to use either Dove or Ivory.

Now that would be an odd thing to suggest. Typically, one might recommend a less drying cleansing product to an atopic, but Ivory wouldn’t normally be at the top of that list. Almost undoubtedly, the doctor said to use “Dove, not Ivory.” But it is quite understandable how a patient could misinterpret what was said.

Port Ivory is a coastal area in the northwestern corner of Staten Island, New York City, New York, United States. It is located on Newark Bay near the entrances the Kill van Kull in the east and Arthur Kill in the west….

The area bore the name of Milliken originally, and became locally known as Port Ivory after Ivory Soap, one of the best-known products from Procter & Gamble, which operated a factory at the site from 1907 until 1991 when the soap making operation was moved to Mexico.[1][2]

“I knew you’d be back. *Boyfriend*.” Mexican standoff.

“You know what I’m here for.” SHOOT SHOOT POP POP.

Red at the waist.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0033, 0615, Mexico, New Jersey, New York, Wendy-Ontario

00320615

She’s been here already, he realized, looking at the last visitor picture. Offering an apple — offering *me* an apple obviously. Will you rent again from us, will you be *tempted*? L$831 dollars in the bank, just enough to cover rent for the next week. But dare I?

Novel 32 is coming to a close. Premium membership running out tomorrow, and land use fees resetting the day after that.

It’s too easy. No, I will not pay the rent, nor renew the membership. I will get rid of my land through abandonment if needed. Property in the beige highlands of Nautilus — not very valuable at all and will have to sell at a cut rate price to even ditch the burden in the next several weeks, most likely. Time for a purge.

One more thing to check, the clincher?

Still available. The library, the castle, the Nautilus map can move there. Everything else can go away for all I care, even the Temple of TILE, at least templerarily, hehe. No time for jokes here. Action… tomorrow, tonight, right now.

I im Wheeler, richer in money at this point. “Send me a couple of lindens over, say 1500.” Enough to cover 2 weeks in this location on famed Rooster’s Peninsula.

I wait. The curtains close again for now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0032, 0615, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, North, Rooster's Peninsula, Sansara

The Abyss

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0031, 0615, Lands End, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, Wild West

00300615

“She’s coming mum, sire!” called the gardener through the window, having nothing to do now except be a watchdog since there wasn’t a garden in this new location. Only flat plywood covered with a light snow.

“Do you think she found him?” asked Herbert Gold over to his wife, often his partner in crime. The latest theft: “The Blue Panther” by Horace Go Lightly of Spain’s France, prized for its use of cobalt in a thin veneer.

“Doubtful,” replied April Mae Flowers, out on bail from Collagesity jail and thus able to help her hubby with setting up the new house. She just had to have the “Panther”, bail or no bail. She talked her husband into it. As she always could. A team once more, just like Baker Bloch and Wheeler thanks to Nauty. Googling the safest and most efficient way to commit the crime, they bought a fishing pole and lifted it out of a transparent ceiling. Suc-cess!

“She’s pulling in now, sire, mum. She has something in her boat. She has *someone* in her… boat?”

The house never stood a chance.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0030, 0615, Crisp Sea, Nautilus, Wild West

00290615

He flickered in but then was quickly replaced by another, a *guardian*. Pot-D representative Duncan Avocado, assigned to the case by Buster Damm a while ago in the photo-novel but then pulled in favor of White Mage. Now he’s back. And beautiful. “Duncan,” she said, not that surprised. “Should have known you were lurking behind the curtains somewhere, ready to have a seat. Whatcha been upto? It’s been, oh *forever*. Since…”

“Dixie, yeah I know,” Duncan Avocado said in her direction, knowing over what part of the table this was going. “I said I was sorry.”

“How’s your neck?”

“Mmmm.” Duncan hesitated, understanding this was the key. Jasper turned wrong. like a Newton Jasper Ninja Turtle upended to make a soup bowl.

“‘Cowabunga,'” she then said. “I want that treatise.”

“W-wha…?”

“You know what.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0029, 0615, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

“reality”

Where is she/he? she thought from her Waiting Bench.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0028, 0615, Hills of Bill^, Maebaleia/Satori

monitor

“So you see, Mrs. Powers, the black is far outweighing the white now — I’d give it currently as 75 – 25, up from 50 – 50 just last week. Your husband will be dead in another. He’s in hospital right now isn’t he?”

“Mrs. Jenny Powers couldn’t believe her ears. “But… he *works* in a hospital. He’s, I don’t know, a *doctor*.”

“And pray tell what kind of doctor Mrs. Powers? Psychiatrist? Podiatrist? Vet, even?”

“Vet, yes a vet,” she decided. She sat back in her chair, fighting the tears. The black coffin beside her was too close. It felt like it was on top of her now, even trying to encompass her.

“Vets aren’t in hospital unless you count the VA. And I don’t think your husband is that kind of vet. He will be dead in a week,” the owner of the funeral home doubled down. “I hate to be so blunt but you must prepare. The black coffin you’re staring at would make a fine vessel for the afterlife, as we sometimes put it. Like a brave warrior sent back to Valhalla. You said your husband was a vet.”

“Yes,” she said absentmindedly, starting to believe this is all a dream. *Must* be a dream.  But how can she wake up?

“Oops, the black has moved a bit left again. Looks like closer to 80 percent now. You better make that purchase today. It’s the only way to end this.”

“How (*sniff*) much?”

“How much do you have? Vets make pretty good money as I understand. Even vet’s assistants. You trade off each week I’ve heard. How exactly does that work?”

Maybe she could snap her fingers? She tries but they just pass through each other. “None of this is real. None of this is *real*.” Didn’t work.

“Typical reaction to severe grief Mrs. Powers. Oh dear: perhaps 85 now. Your husband Tim might be dead before tomorrow.”

“How about a 1000?” She thought of her pocketbook in the car and a thousand dollar bill within. “How about 2 to end this, 3.” She recalled she had 3 1000 dollar bills in the car she drove over with, a Toyota Dusty with 200,000 miles due for an engine change. That’s why she had the money in the car, in her purse. She was on her way to the mechanic to pay for a motor so she could keep running from… who? Where did she come from?

“90 now. You better cough up the appropriate money. Do you want your husband to be buried in the ground like a dog?”

“Don’t *start* with dogs.” Her eyes were completely misting over. She decided to scream at the top of her lungs — maybe that would do it — end this.

“Another typical reaction,” came the reply after the deed was done. “Let it out, Mrs. Powers. Let it all out. Let the whole town know how you feel in this moment. Severe severe grief. Let it out!”

She screamed again. She stopped. She screamed some more, louder, longer, louder… louder… LOUDER.

Sirens went off down at the sheriff’s station. A firetruck and an ambulance were dispatched from the opposite side of town, the first running over Tim Powers bending down to pick up a Lincoln penny from the road, and the second making sure he was good and smushed and dead. His soul left his body.

—–

“It was a pretty good one tonight,” Jeffrey Phillips exclaimed later to mate/lover Charlene the Punk ’round the breakfast table eating Toasty O’s, a new version instead shaped like little squares and triangles. Still the same delicious oaty taste, though. He spoons a big heapfull into his face between sentences. “The dream I mean,” he says with open, milky mouth, making Charlene wince. She decides to take a long bathroom break while he finishes up. Sitting fully clothed on the toilet biding her time, she thinks about the dream he spoke of and the poor widow-to-be within, having to scream her lungs out to wake up and at the same time losing her husband. The scream equals death itself. A pretty good one, as Jeffrey declared after revealing the details. Worth putting in his blog, even.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0027, 0615, Collagesity Fordham, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Soap

00260615

Some planes took off and never made it to their destination. But some planes never took off and still made it there just fine. It was a central theme of this here photo-novel, 25 in a… 26. And here we are, just beyond the (Collagesity centered) 5×5 appropriately enough, trying to look inside. This must be a Michigan ship.

Kolya had been meaning to report the crashed craft for the longest time, but he couldn’t remove his feet from this oh so comfortable, warm pool to go over the the green phone and make the call. He tries to calculate in his mind how long it had been there. It had stopped smoking some time back, so maybe 3 hours? Make that years — he truly couldn’t recall, and that hurt his chances for a call. He does know noone is inside still, at least after the doc took that basketball player type girl away still in her green uniform, as green as his phone should be. Perhaps she had just come back from a game; could be she was even a professional player what with that height. But why just the single person on board, then?

TWO TO KNOW weighed on his damaged brain, thanks to Marty, thanks to Roger Pine Ridge. What they did just north of here in Leemington will not be forgiven. 59.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0026, 0615, Lower Austra^, Michigan, Nautilus

GUMMMMP!

Q: Who is Publius Enigma, what is the meaning of it all, and what is the treasure to be had? A: (Uncle Custard) As the Infamous Q has emphasized, ‘you humans are so limited’. This is a project for all those out there with higher IQ’s, it does require a mastery of diverse languages, along with a lot of spare time.

The Publius sim was a stranger one, so close to Public Nudity yet so far. Not being multi-lingual I decided to tread lightly from this central spot, a default landing point on a bridge. I looked down. I recall the red dress. And the woman inside.

—–

Hucka Doobie continued to read on the floor, then, momentarily: “22 is a good one, Baker Bloch. I think I might like that best.” About 20 minutes later: “Here, just here.” She points to the book before her. “Barry DeBoy is in The Waste but it’s *not* the Waste. What was the name of that place?”

Baker Bloch was still fiddling around with the piano, to mix a metaphor. He paused in the effort to recall, which he couldn’t. “Something about numbers,” is all he could distantly offer.

“We should look that up. The place should be separated from The Waste. Not everything has to be Hana Lei if it is the unknown.”

“Suppose.” He started again with the bad “Chopsticks”, hell bent on mastering it before night’s end.

—–

My home! I think excitedly while still peering down. Pink’s motel that she runs. *Mom*. And… Suisan. I am D-Boy, which means I make a lot of D’s which makes me a Dunce with a capital D. So says Suisan. Before she fully understood my special gifts. I learned to make Art with a capital A, an accomplishment that needed to be acknowledged. I stare into the transposed Tiger’s mouth. Black Diamond. CITY.

A friend waits outside beyond the screened in studio. “Hellooo?” My best friend. My only friend. I wind him up and he winds me down. Now we just have to figure out how to return to the White Palace and get that ruby red key.

—-

“Got it!” But Hucka Doobie was fast asleep by now.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0025, 0615, ENIGMA, Hana Lei^^, Nautilus, The Waste^^, Wild West