Back in Whippersnapper, Baker waited outside for a new Christmas shipment of antique art (and pottery) to the Blue Baron’s.
“Monolith…?” he questioned when it finally arrived from ports unknown. “Let me check,” offered Chuck Wakdins the delivery man, and looked down his inventory list. “Which one,” he finally said, “Ansel Adams or, let me see, Greg Ogden? New guy apparently.”
Suc-cess!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0609, HANA LEI
“That’s not a bird,” old man Fred said, standing uncomfortably close to me, creepily close even. “That’s a *caricature* of a bird, like a cartoon.” He leans down and speaks to the cartoon directly. “Aren’t you Blackey!” as if the bird perched on my shoulder was hard of hearing. Quite the opposite! He’s scolded me many a time for talking too loud to him when he’s right there, not 6 inches from my mouth at any moment. What would he do to Fred now? Peck his eyes out? Finally fly away and never come back? What a fine mess that would put me in, because I’d have to go out and find a *proper* looking bird to take his spot. Because I doubt that such cartoon birds were still available — on the marketplace or anywhere else. Just like my dear old pops Spaced Ghost, the outfit of which was retired long ago. So: 1/2 of me. And probably the other half — originally Linden Boy Next Door in some version — as well. We’re all antiquated. Maybe we should *all* fly away somewhere over the rainbow or something. Wait: tried that already. Hucka D.’s White Place in De Skies; the equivalent. Yet here we are again, talking to Fred, listening to his criticisms of Blackey’s looks, and, by extension, mine. Yes, Blackey and me will never part ways. I’ll see to that. And Hucka’s back too, but more woman and less bee than ever. No antennae now, even.
And Tulsa is waiting on us, not Omaha. “How’d we get over here, Hucka?” I ask her across the way.
“Define ‘here’,” she replied, and ordered a salad with no lettuce and extra ketchup.
“You sir?”
“Just nuts,” I complained, and then they brought an assortment. Tasty! But it still didn’t answer my question. Hucka D. spooned a big bite of red looking salad into her mouth. STOP
GO Creepy Fred was gone. Hucka D. spooned a big heap of green salad into her mouth to my left. Omaha spilled coffee in my lap after I politely asked for it, ow ow ow! Point made. There was a reason we were there instead of here, I get it.
“I get it,” I said aloud to Hucka, still holding my groin.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0608, Lower Austra, Nautilus
First: The MastHead sim directly above The Measure, with only Heaven’s Sense between. Baker Bloch teleports into the center and discovers an interesting triangle of avatars which he is the apex of in the below photo. Then he essentially becomes a white star of this triangle as another, still irresolved avatar beams in…
… who turns out to have very exaggerated or distorted (naked) features. I am reminded here of a double star *barely* resolvable with a naked eye, say.
Interesting that Hucka D. spied a mysterious triangle of white stars inside a translucent blue cube in the sky back in novel 15. Hucka D. with DOTS again, just like in that last post here.
Now: The Measure. Yes all its peculiar, angular patternings found in pre photo-novel days are still present and seemingly locked in, including the Double Dots? Checking… We can see so much more if we get rid of the water, drying the sim out.
https://bakerbloch.com/2015/06/22/nautilus-seas-02/
“The M’s, two squares (at the bottom of the above snapshot) with a void square between them: obviously The Measure and The Masthead. The shapes around them must represent the Nautilus continent or archipelago in some form.”
“In some fashion,” Baker Bloch rewords, just like in olden days. Hucka is back!
https://bakerbloch.com/2015/06/23/more-glyphs-of-the-measure/
Detail of Double Squares. They’re not exact duplicates of each other. Lisa V. speculates they might stand for Second Life sims.
Cool. Smart Lisa!
Yes, the Double Dots are still there.
—–
“To continue, here’s another peculiarity, Hucka D. The square *representing* the sim The Measure — within The Measure — lies at 214, 107, 1, which means it’s 214 meters from the top of the sim and 107 from the (left) side (and 1 up from the bottom of the sea floor). 214 is double 107.
“The ‘dot’ here is at 228/114, along the same line across the sim, then, where the height within the sim is double the length within the sim. This is the last bit of dark surface you encounter when walking this line in an eastern direction.
“To the west, you find this larger dark place encompassing 200, 100, 1. Whaddaya think? 200-214-228, all highlighted by dark places in a row.
“And then at 186/93: more darkness encountered. But then that’s it for that pattern within the sim. Again: we are measuring in The Measure based upon a square representing The Measure. Feels like it means *something*.
“Pointillistically, it’s all aligned on that dot.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0607, Nautilus, Yd Island
“I’m *here* (snicker). Where are you?”
(reply)
“No, *I’m* here.” He smiles broadly at John across from him, who grins back a bit. Becky looks away, lost in thoughts of some kind.
(reply)
“Yeah, yeah I already told you that. *I’m* here. But where does that leave *you*?” (more snickers)
—–
Julius hangs up, tired of the running gag. It had run its course, which was a needless mini-marathon, he felt. Time to get back to work anyway. He makes a mental note not to call him again until he truly does figure out where he’s at. Because he forgets all the time. Now… where does he work here?
—–
The waiter comes over, Bob I believe. “A phone call for you, Mr. Nance. It’s Mr. Nance.”
“Oh… thanks.” Receiver in hand again. Bob cleans up for the people who just left. Big smile, preparing for the best but expecting the worst. His twin had been missing for hours, days, weeks.
“Where are you, bro?”
—–
Baker Bloch looks on, pretending to eat grapes but just spitting them out into his napkin when the waitress has turned away. Omaha, I think. But from Oklahoma, or comes from within such. Not Nebraska, although some people just won’t get it out of their head it’s at least Kansas, a compromise she’s come to live with. Dorothy, others call her. Dot.
Hucka Doobie joins him; turns away from Omaha so she won’t accidentally spill coffee in her lap. “Stop spitting, my love,” she requested, like a mongoose.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0606, Lower Austra, Nautilus, Squared Root City-
That girl over there, Priscilla Persley thought. How can she stand it? I mean, she’s got *coffee* at least, but: jees.
Claudia Curve turned her back on the “spectacle” as well, instead staring at another pretty Christmas tree and trying to pretend the world was going to be okay.
Rose Schultz stood at attention, knowing this was going to be a busy night for hot beverages. She was armed and ready. Despite the uptick, two should still do the job just fine. If only she’d wore her long sleeve uniform but it was in the wash, brrr. But that wasn’t the spectacle, that wasn’t the one. She couldn’t see it from her angle. Not yet.
Thank Gods the pigs have arrived, thought carver George Wash, tired of trying not to look. More people should arrive soon. Time to get her outta here.
“One Adam One, over.”
“Go ahead Eve Two, over.”
“We have a situation down at the frozen food court. Lady not cooperating with the, ahem, elements… over.”
A pause. “Should we send reinforcements? A coat? Over?”
“Copy that, er, she’s heading… she’s heading over to the hot beverage stand to refill her mug. Everything is going to be okay.”
—–
Upon a tip from Rose, her defense was it was all in the wash. All of it. The pig carver was arrested on the spot.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0604, Lower Austra, Nautilus
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)
“I agree, Blackey. Sure *looks* like a mouth.” Is Perch really reemerging? Baker Bloch contemplates on this sea green isle before The Rock of Southwestern Nautilus. After all this time? Carrcassonnee has just been the one eye for, it seems, as long as he can remember. He can’t even recall…
“Duncan?” approaching boy George said behind him, then also stares up, moreso than Baker even. He could see the eye(s) forming already behind the mossy veil.
I don’t want to *see* this, he thought, and looked away, forgetting the moment even. “Let’s go home.” A boy of 10 back to 13 then 10, over and over, had finally stopped the past/future “burp.” Carrcassonnee had saved him. By sacrificing herself for the greater good. Just like that other 3.16 person.
Baker acquiesces and turns black himself. He takes the boy of 10 back to Heaven, White as. Soup’s up!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0602, Nautilus, Southwestern
So many more stories to tell in this here Paper-Soap, sims still united despite the best efforts of Old Man Allen Martin and his Paper Kings. See what I mean? But we must move back to Nautilus for now to investigate the eye. Monolith painter Greg Ogden’s on his final quarter, we could put it. STOP
START Someone is about to emerge.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0601, Nautilus, Paper Soap+, Soap, Southwestern
He came in on a tulip plane from Maebaleia (continent), vowing never to return. “Black and white tv’s,” he complained to the airline reservation agent whose name he didn’t catch and then regretted it later. Raspberry colored, she was, at least in dress — complete with seeds, ha. An idea is planted. A secret revealed. “Greyscale, even — that’s the name of the *leader* for Christs sake.” He’d received a free ticket to the capital city of the South from his cousin Vinnie. He should call him — right here and now at the airport — give him a piece of his mind about the recommended vacation spot. No *wonder* the lout gave up his ticket, he thought. Nothing there but chickens. And worse!
Only much later would he learn that Maebaleia is the same as Satori, and that he’d neglected to visit the much nicer North in his travel. Vinnie provided him with another free ticket — even went with him this time to make sure he didn’t stray too far south. They stood on the edge of the Guy Linden owned Gangkhar Rabbit Hole and marveled at its unicorn nature. Once there were two such things, on either side of X-City, King city of the north. For the king had risen again to compliment his southern queen. The black menace with two protruding round ears still hung in the sky but they’d learned to make peace with it by eliminating capitalism. Communism or at least Marxism has its advantages.
“Mae Baleia. My name is Mae,” she said more distinctly through her thick (Russian?) accent when he returned this time. *That’s* where the confusion all started. This gall darn agent (!).
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0029, 0617, 0701, Horns of Hatton+, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Southwestern, X-City
Sunklands 