“I know how to beat Mouse’s high score and get away from the fire of Little Hell for good, Frank. Red car!”
“And *I* know how to beat the difficult score before me too, Philip my oft times housemate. Red note to also constantly remind me of middle!”
PLAY.
And hoped for, 2nd, even more oft times housemate Daisy makes 3. Er, make that *5*.
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025 LATER”!
“Soo, decision time, reunited family of mine. Which New Island is New…
“… and which is Old?” But in staring at the screen before Wheeler, Shelley and Eddy, the answer becomes obvious to presenter Newt; right in front of his face. Daughter Shelley’s black and white dream island, the one she wrote the novel “Hmm” about to promote, is the old one. And the colorful Our Second Lyfe version, virtual but also more real in that way, is New. And they’re linked through Barnaby (Point), an artist colony and perhaps the place Shelley actually settles down in after a stint at Hazel and which could turn into Shelley’s true home… *in each,* her own place apart from Leeman or Leemon the creator of it all. A place that can be *her* creation too. Co-creator she can become. Together moving forward, one energizing the other. Like a game of tennis. Back to you!
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025 MIDDLE”!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0616, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, New Island^, NVFS
—–
There was only 1 thing to do to stop the stabbings and knivings and whatnot and save everybody involved, Greg Ogden knew. Go back to the beginning of this here photo-novel, NOT rescue the Tobor robot that represents Peter Bergmann with the two n’s from the waters and let him drown in peace in the ocean, his body and thus the mysterious story of his last days in Sligo, Ireland never to be found. “Center Core Never More,” he chanted on the shoreline as the pushing began. Deeper, deeper… over the hands… heart… head…
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2025 EARLY”!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0616
“Well Wheeler. Here we are at the end.”
“So… you’re admitting I’m Wheeler,” spoke Shelley to his side, also watching the water rise on the scene below.
“You’re Wheeler, yes. You’re my *daughter* Wheeler. I also have a wife Wheeler. And probably a mother Wheeler and also a dog Wheeler.”
“Down there,” she spoke, pointing to the robot dog still positioned in the middle of the bar, likewise water walking Fern Stalin studying it, wondering what makes it tick or if it could have ticks or fleas, but especially where it’s taking humanity as a whole. Obviously a lot of people will die as a result of this — flood. But the ones who survive will have a cleansed world to repopulate, free of the former dirt and smut and filth. Led at least in part by Fern, the chosen one. The one with the WOW factor.
“What about Billy?” asked Wheeler-Shelley, seeing the water submerge his small 3-4 foot robot body completely now.”
“Waterproof,” Newt spoke.
“Oh, of course. From novel 34.”
“Well,” said Newt. “Close enough.” He raises his glass of high alcohol purple snog beer from the counter. “So should we toast to the end? Another successful photo-novel?”
“Not quite,” Wheeler-Shelley said, keeping her beer on the counter and knowing more was to come.
Just over here, V. Behind these Tiler shacks.
—–
“So this is how it is?”
“What did you expect? A tombstone? Flag and flowers?”
“I don’t know. Something. Anything.”
“You blew up Arastraville Tower. You killed a lot of people, Jonny. And where did it get you in the end? The corps and their suits for men are still in control.”
“I know I know.” He pauses. “I was a musician too besides being a terrorist,” he tried.
“One overrides the other?” I asked as a question. Because I was curious how Jonny was going to balance the two. History would view the music as largely about terrorism, not visa versa. Music should ultimately be uplifting, not constantly tearing down our lives, deconstructing them. Something like Blue Moon and her UK Cracks have merit just by that virtue alone. I told Jonny this.
“Are you saying I should have listened more to those bubblegum bitches?”
“Maybe. Cary listened. He liked them. Until… well, you know.”
Both thought of the death of Blue Moon and possibly Redd the Menace too.
“Maybe it should have been me at the bottom of that damn dam instead of Kentucky. Maybe history would have viewed me more in a positive light.”
“That’s static in that direction, Jonny. You’re not Blue Moon, you’re not bubblegum pop. You’re hard edged rock ‘n roll, always have been, always will. You can’t change who you are inside, the core.”
“Can’t you?” Exhale; another pause. “You know I thought about being an artist, V. A painter instead of an axer. Pretty good too. Won some awards as a child prodigy.”
I checked my watch, thought about the growing length of this section. “Yeah, really don’t have time to explore alternate realities right now, Jonny. The musician/terrorist polarity is complicated enough. Any last words? Over your grave, I mean.”
“Just carve the initials and let’s get out of here.”
“Done, and…
“Done.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0043, 0616, Badlands, C2077
“It’s simply beautiful here, Barry. But –”
“Why did I wait so long to show you this?”
“Well… *yes*.” It could have help swayed my judgement, she thinks. She could still change her mind, but… a contract was signed. Wendy’s Hot Dog Restaurant is a go! Except switch hot dogs with hamburgers and meat byproducts to just pure beef. Okama talked her into it, just as he talked himself into giving up the dream of taking over the Dream Emulator band and kicking everyone else out except maybe classically trained guitarist No Lag V, which they usually just shorten to No Lag. He’d assume the mayor’s position of Kangarootown instead, recently vacated by disgraced Golden Jim, fired because he’d called the wrong person the wrong name, it seems. Anyway, Okama = Mayor, Okama invites Wendy to open her restaurant in his former K-Town store (basically just a store for mouse traps, he said, waiving off the inconvenience), and then giving her a 25 year month lease on the place for 500 lindens a month. That’s the contract signed; too good of a deal to pass on; had to act fast, she felt, lest he or she changed his or her mind. And her affections returned to Bastard — wherever he is up there on the Red Dead planet. St. Dennis, she’d heard for a possible location. She hadn’t given up hope that he not only lives but thrives, and is just waiting for the right time to invite her up too. Hmm, but she’s locked into a lease now. She better think about a second in command just in case.
“I was waiting for the right time,” Barry finally answered, allowing Wendy’s internal monologue to unfurl in a proper manner. “I thought–”
“We could go steady?”
“Well…”
“Barry. I still have Bastard — you know, Jim Randolph the Bastard Pirate.”
“But… he’s dead,” answers Barry to this.
“No, I refuse to believe that.”
“But… they found his *skeleton*, the Red Dead crew did. They *buried* him… out to sea.”
“No. Not true. I *sense* he exists still. I’m just not sure how.”
“All those rumors about him surviving and living in St. Dennis are just that. Fiction — fable. The skeleton in the boat was *his*. There was even his trusty sword to go along with it. Wendy — face it.” He makes her face him. “He’s gone.”
She was tempted to slap him for the stubbornness. But after all, as Okama Majo also pointed out, *he* has Hucka Doobie now. She substituted the slap with that harsh declaration.
Barry quickly looked away, almost as if he’d been slapped anyway. “She’s with someone else, I’ve heard. A Marion Star Harding. Never met the guy. But he predates me, even. Last I heard he’s in Gaston. Do you know of Gaston? I had to learn about it. I learned it from–” He stops. He realizes the irony, the *synchronicity* of the matter.
He recalls piecing together a document about the place. From wadded up papers strewn about his shed near the Pink Motel. Home.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0042, 0616, Castle Town, Gaston^^, Omega^^, RDR2
While Billie gassed herself up at the filling station next door, Philip had a bit of a lie down in his trailer. Gas station? he started pondering while laying there. When did Bombay Beach get a gas station? Then he laughed, a way to shake the dream off. Why did I call this place *that*? he he. I mean of course Sandy Beach. Then he realized this was wrong too: Sandy *Shores*.
He suddenly thought of Ron next door; wondered what he was cooking up. Why *meth* he realized. *His* meth. As soon as he starting dwelling on drugs he was gone from her, the Bug next door fading along with memories of Billie and even Marion, although the latter lingered on a little longer. Kept calling Ron Marion when he phoned him up, checking progress on the next batch; wondered if he’d been imbibing too much of it himself because of his peculiar thoughts this afternoon.
We have, in effect, returned him to his natural environment, his original home. Philip was no more as Trevor took over. He was soon to have a new gang of 3.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0616, California, GTA
And so she was back in NWES City Big Sandy, Dr. Mouse having come through the secret door just before. “Bye Prontus!” he said before leaving his beloved Anti-Omega monitor room, following bow and arrow into oblivion. He’d have to trust the door would take him where he needed to be. And Marsha: the same with her likewise cherished yellow bug just outside with Eddie, her Edward in tow.
They were all waiting on someone or something to appear on that purple ottoman over there, including the “housesitting” little demon locally known as Wilbur holding the bowl of patriotic soup that can make one grow large or small, depending upon the situation. Suddenly, something began to form on the ottoman. A spirit.
END OF “SUNKLANDS 2023 LATER”!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0616, Bellisaria, Black Ice, Jeogeot, NWES Island^, Sandfly
“Such an interesting light show, Al.”
“I thought you might like this spot. Sarah.” He turns, leans in for a kiss.
In Coyote Canyon in the middle of these Western Hills of the 1st Bellisseria continent, Mid-Hazel prepares to die, as she’s done the past 100 years it seems. But, as visiting Herbert Glenn Gold speculated earlier in the present photo-novel — fast drawing to a close — this time it might be for real. Pre-Abyss Absorption here I come at long last, she might be thinking in the picture below.
She is not alone at her wannabe death bed trailer.
Hand in hand, the couple walks toward Opaque Lake in decreasing darkness.
Wait a minute: *pumpkins*??
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0616, Bellisaria, Western Hills
Arthur and Edward proving once and for all that they are indeed one and the same deep down.
“I don’t feel any different except for the clothes and hair,” spoke one.
“Ne meither,” said the other.
But what to do about it?
—–
“6’5″ both, huh,” said Thomasina about the presents. “Do they play good cop bad cop?”
“I… don’t know. They’re just *there* now.”
“Like the 88s,” she replied, thinking about an earlier time. Before Shelley grew up. She returned to her notes, saw Toy, Play, Mine, Thing on the surface of the paper before her. Separation, one into two. Like removing the shadows from a human face, leaving only outline. But comparing them side by side you can tell they’re from one image. The 8 fingered hand reaches out.
“Anything else, today?” As usual, people were beating down the door of Thomasina’s inner sanctum in the sim of Jasper, needing help for this that and that. She did all she could. She’s using her powers for good these days. She is the true eye of the pyramid. TOM. Both male and female energies. Synergy.
“I don’t suppose so,” Shelley-as-Jennifer replied. “I’ll stay within the column, the FILE, as you requested.”
“Good good. We have agents that are aiding you. Like with the body swapping machine. Good you know. Good *they* know. You will advance step by step, assimilate. Already a variant scenario where Lichen Roosevelt takes over the body has been absorbed. You are you again.” She looks at the now familiar Pepper for President shirt, the glasses, the gloved hands, the patched jeans, the sneakers. The blond doodle-bug hair. *Not* curly any longer. Lichen is gone, although the fear of being “cowed” remains. Probably the influence of Myrtle Beech back on Constance. More to be told there for certain. “Keep those bi-weekly reports coming,” she said in parting.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0616, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File
Sunklands 