Category Archives: 06

September 28, 2018 · 5:43 am

reanimator

It was time to confront Madame Silver at the main house. Ruby’s Democratic Empire must come into being *now* or else the perpetually 15 1/2 year old’s newly laid out plans might be in vain. She knew the experiments were ongoing going on.

—–

“Oooo, I’m getting more insights from the Big Brain, Axis.”

“Good, good,” replied her partner in crime, not looking over from his tests in the background. He’d seen all this so many times now. Contact with Braynard. “Now how do I make this Spider Baby come into being?”

“It’s the 200th,” Madame Silver says,” removing herself from the enabling head gear and turning toward him. “The brain must be aligned with the 200th. Unch. That’s what stabilizes The Diagonal. We’ll be able to recreate the forest *here*, then.”

“Well, cut me a choice piece of Briney’s specimen and bring it over. I’m recalibrating the coordinates on my end.”

“Alright.”

But as Madame Silver raises the knife to do as Axis says…

… her hand suddenly begins to quiver.

She quickly drops the blade on the floor and moves away from the precious brain.

“Ohhhhhh. Side effects coming!”

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September 27, 2018 · 7:38 am

island art

On weekends, when business was brisker, Ruby Roo worked as a receptionist for the Tina Queen Photographic Gallery, located almost exactly a city block west of her multi-story treehouse house she still resided in. But former housemate Tin Tin was no more to be seen, and Ruby suspected that he may have been drafted for the most recent version of the Trojan vs. Durexians war over in the east mountains where Timmy was from. Poor Timmy, she laments. Not born to exist in the harsh environment of Meat City — ideally should have stayed put in the hills supported and nurtured by a loving foster mother and father. But wars do that; separate loved ones from loved ones. She misses Tin Tin, but not nearly as much as Timmy.

Ruby puts on a brave face and continues inventorying the most recent batch of photos her boss Tina had taken during the week.

A very prolific snapper she is! But Second Lyfe will do that to you; so easy to take pictures here. Ruby herself, inspired by Tina and also the more abstract work in the Roads Gallery across the, well, road from this one, has taken up playing around with art a bit. Here’s an example of a computer sketch she made for a sculpture tentatively titled “Scratch”:

Here is a related work-in-progress she might call “Itch”:

Marvelous indeed. The more she becomes immersed in an artistic journey of her own, the more she finds herself attracted to rural and bucolic New Island for setting up a potential future studio — maybe at Mabel’s old house? But is the island still there after the Limekiln Catastrophe? Perhaps it depends on if she *wishes* it to be so. And she’s starting to think she does. She does indeed wish it to be so.

Maybe a switcheroo is needed: Fishers Island exchanged back with New Island. *Fishers* Island is destroyed, perhaps by that new burny fellow who just biked across its westward bridge.

The eastward bridge would then open and allow refuges to return to their former homes there, radiation levels subsided.

Hmmm.

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September 26, 2018 · 7:26 am

Dead Sea

“It’s going to be *beautiful* Cloe, a beautiful scene.

Let’s go take a look again.”

—–

“Dead Lakes and The Basin in one. Fate, my blue haired friend. Beginning of a stream.”

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September 25, 2018 · 5:53 am

passage

“So you see, Chloe. It’s all about the interior to that game. This game within a game you are on about. The Basin. We must get beyond Dead Lake — both of them — and enter the place of the burning dog.”

“I don’t like that idea,” returned a worried, slumped over, arm crossed Chloe. “I just want to stay in the trailer park, shoot up some people, and then *leave*. I don’t want to find this door into a hidden place. Just leave me out of it.”

Sandy breathes out. “Okay, okay. I’ll try the other Chloe, then.”

“It won’t be any different.”

“It might.”

—–

“Soo Chloe. Whadda you knoow?”

“Get away. Playing on phone.”

“Just a couple…”

“GO AWAY, JEEZ.”

—–

“I suppose I owe you an apology.”

“Just leave me in the trailer park,” she reinforced.

—–

So he returned to EM at the blue painted coffee shop of Fishers Island, mission seemingly a failure. But EM thought otherwise.

“You got them thinking! They’ll come around. A seed has been *planted*.”

—–

The next time Chloe Price approached the end of the pavement representing the limit of the Gunn Mobile Trailer Park game…

… she suddenly recalled that thing about a glitch which allowed one to go further down this road — into the dirt part — all the way to a place called Dead Man’s Lake. No: just Dead Lake. Dead Sea, something. But it had to be done a certain way. Today, unlike yesterday or the day before or the day before that, etc., she decided it might be worth the risk. Checking back into the heart of the trailer park to make sure none of her enemies were following her (or were left alive, period)…

… she walks over and shoots her oh-so-familiar weapon at what looks like a weirdly shaped grey rock in front of her (the “glitch”). Not once, not twice, but three times.

She then sticks her gun into a suddenly opening black vortex, never to be held or used again.

The dirt road opens up before her. “Dead Sea — whatever — here we come!”

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September 25, 2018 · 4:45 am

dark side

Amazing. He’d found it.

Kevin thinks the following: This structure where I grew up as a child reminds me of the cool compassion of my father compared to the fierce competition with my mother. On the one hand, I was asked about renewing my rent not once but several times before snatching a legally deeded property away from under my feet. On the other hand: destruction/removal of a piece of art representing *all* my art without warning. I could go with the kindness and empathy of the former. But my fiery rage identifies more with the latter. I will burn this structure *down to the ground*. It will not exist just like my childhood art doesn’t any longer. Monkey City *this* dear mother.

Sorry father.

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September 24, 2018 · 8:27 am

smokers

After his 5 beers, he sauntered over to Hellmouth Service Station next door and sprawled out on an old red car seat in front, staring blankly across the road.

The owner Fred Heater (brother-in-law to Ted) came out, followed his stare. “That’s Jonesboro Heights over there. Not much to look at, I know, but still it’s the highest point on the island.” He took a gander at Kevin, quickly determined he was a biker — but those burning feet! I’ve got to get this guy out of here before he ignites something! “You can actually rezz your bike or whatever over there on that property. Not running you off or anything…”

“Sure you are,” said Kevin icily. “You think I’m a menace to society.” He stared at the owner, fire also in his eyes. “Just like my parents.”

Great, thought Fred. A burny guy with *parent issues*. Just what this island needs. “No, no, you just sit here. Stay calm. Leave when you want to.” Fred looked through the dingy window of his station to make sure the fire extinguisher was hanging in its proper spot — just like Ted before him. Hope the nozzle remains unblocked and the pin isn’t broken, he thought, relieved at its sight. But he dare not check right this minute. Gotta keep an eye on this dude!

“No, no, you stay right here,” he reinforced, hands out. “Don’t get any more excited than you are. Just *relax*.” Fred pondered how to safely get to the phone inside to call Luther. Luther would know what to do. He’d seen this stuff before. The Great Fires of ’72.

He stared down at Kevin’s feet again. And I thought the General inside was bad with the smoking!

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September 24, 2018 · 6:42 am

reversion

It was this sight of a “burning dog” (actually a dog fronting a camp fire from his perspective) a little over a sim inside Fishers Island which changed him back, as it should be.

Burning Man became just a Man again. Kevin.

But his feet remained ignited.

He wandered up to the bar located in a neighboring parcel and ordered a beer, extra hops. He showed the tough looking bartender Cyclops Ted his hot foot to indicate he too meant business.

“‘Take me drunk I’m home.’ Haven’t heard that one before.”

“Um huh.” Ted was wondering how comfortably long he could wait before calling his wife Ethel about this one. Long time since he’s seen one of those burny people pass through these here parts. Last dude took out a whole palace!

He glanced over to make sure the fire extinguisher was still hanging on the wall in the corner.

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September 23, 2018 · 5:52 pm

eastward bridge

“So here we are on the hands again, EM. Waiting for someone to cross that bridge.”

“Could be a man with a million dollars, could be some dude with a gun.” He paused. “Both… neither.”

“But probably neither,” opined Sandy Beech, anxious to get this scene over since Chloe Price was waiting for him over at Bay City. Both of them!

Sandy then heard something, a rumbling, getting louder. EM pointed. “Look Sandy, a hog. Bikers again. Spocari Nemoy is going to be *soo* upset.”

Sandy looked as well, but all he could see crossing the bridge was a man not on a motorcycle as he expected, but just an ordinary bicycle. Burning — the actual source of the noise. A Burning Man.

“Wait Sandy!” EM reassessed over the growing roar. The burning man had just come upon the center of the bridge. “Not a hog, a *dog*!”

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July 25, 2018 · 6:55 am

ending 04

They were destined to become best of friends.

“So how did you get *here*?” Indigo asked.

“I don’t know. I suppose I died,” Ruby answered matter-of-factly. “Pain links the two dimensions, New Island over there, and then Collagesity and Heterocera as a whole here. It’s happened before. But I don’t think it’s going to happen again. Once you go through that door you don’t come back. I was standing too close to Ground Zero to survive. I may have *been* Ground Zero for all I know.”

“Zero is my sister.”

“Ahh,” Ruby exclaimed, light bulb turning on over her head as she shifted her weight against the knitted ottoman. “That might explain it, yeah.” Ruby thinks back to what she saw around the corner of the doctor’s ice cream truck. Bound Shirley Boot. But then, at the same time, Ragdoll. Back and forth. Flickering, even. Just before… or maybe it was just *after*, confusingly. Time messed up.

“Maybe everyone on the island survived in their own way,” theorizes Indigo. “Just in their own, other dimensions. Mabel can come back and forth as well, after all. Here, and then there.”

“Maybe not any more,” the now eternally 15 1/2 year old answered. “I think she might be trapped over there. I’m pretty sure of it actually. Which means…”

“No Battle for Collagesity between Mabel and Bill coming up.” Indigo blew out a puff of air. “Well… *that’s* a relief anyway. I saw enough of war growing up in South Bennington. Blacks vs. Blues. Greens vs. Grays. Any color you like or could guess would wage battle against another given half a chance. The Multicolors saw to that.”

“Who are they?”

“The ones that stand above the fray and cause it.” Indigo halted her thinking in that direction, a long honed practice. Enough was enough: back to Ruby and the situation at hand. But, just then, she spotted the wolf and pointed out the window. “Look. A hound of some sort.”

Ruby saw it too, emerging from the dark void of the woods. As it continued to approach, the girls realized it was blue. It barked but the yelping seemed to say something. They couldn’t quite make it out yet.

“Did you hear it too?” asked Indigo to her new friend.

“Yes. Something like: ‘The Friend’.”

Indigo was sure that wasn’t it. “Dare we go out and speak to it directly?”

Ruby shrugged, indicating: what’s going to harm me *now* after what I’ve been through.

—–

“Oh what a *beautiful* dog… wolf. Just what I needed to cheer me up! How are you boy? Girl?”

It yelped, repeating what it “said” before.

“Okay, that was clearer,” Indigo declared. “‘The End.'”

“Or is it…” Ruby opined, “just…”

The wolf howled, reinforcing the finality.

“No. It’s ‘The End’.”

END OF “COLLAGESITY 2018 MIDDLE”!

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July 24, 2018 · 8:11 am

ending 03

So Ragdoll showed her sister Indigo the bank in question. Over in Tiretta, not 1000 meters from their trailer, she explained. “You see, if a bank like this began at the bottom of a sim — 0/0, say — and extended in a diagonal to the top of the sim — 256/256 — the whole Diagonal within the sim would become the master number. The point becomes a line. That’s the despair part: no single, pointilistic master number. Instead: the bank; the line.”

“Slow down, slow down,” offers Indigo. “I’ve seen the pictures you’re referring to.

From the Archive.

And how it seems to resonate in that set of collages over in — where was it?”


Archive again.

“Um, I can’t remember the name of the sim. But it’s very near the Kerchal Woods.”

“Which could have another, smaller diagonal attached to it — just as a sidenote. But, if this Greenup series is so important, why isn’t it in Collagesity presently? Why did we have to go all the way over to the Sansara continent?”

“Our joint users are working on that. I suppose you heard—”

“Yes,” answered Indigo, guessing what her sister was going to say. “The house on The Diagonal where they were creating the new New Island story has been derezzed. Another magic typewriter — poof.” Indigo threw up her hands as if releasing a puff of smoke.

“Just like with New Island and the Troll Cave there.” Ragdoll then pointed to the ground. “But this is what father showed me and added to it. The name of the property, Indigo: Drongallia. Which contains the word Diagonal, along with an extra ‘r’. The Gods can’t be *too* obvious with these things. Need to leave some mysteries.”

Indigo saw the name too in the ‘About Land’ description. “Yes.” She had quickly calculated the odds of this happening by chance. ‘Astronomical’ came the answer.

She sat down on a green mushroom in a cluster of 5. Ragdoll joined her.

“49/50 for me, sister.”

“50/50 for me.” Ragdoll then admitted something to her sister. “I’m starting to get those urges, a bleed-through from the other side. My *new* self.”

“Right. Father warned me about that. Well…” Indigo deliberated where to begin with that talk, but decided now was not the time. Instead: just some encouragement. “Treat the flea itch first. Then you can work on that other itch.”

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