Category Archives: Estate

00430607 (archipelago?)

“As you can see when we change the map into something more modern, Feedem becomes Freedom. This is probably a mistranslation, then, but significant still. Because it indicated where Arthur and Shelley should go to rekindle their marriage. And with his money from all those roles in all those Shakespeare plays — worldwide, mind you — he bought a top of the line yacht to celebrate the find. Actually he found the yacht and pretended to buy it but never mind that now. So there they are on this hot tropical island, complete with a dog named Chomp who keeps chasing his own tail. Twins.

“I’ll open up the Table to questions.”

(to be continued)

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00430604

“I first saw what Mmmmmm Grassy Knoll later verified as some kind of Tiler in the slums of Kabusie, Green being his nature through his mask. He was posed in front of a red green yellow blue shack appropriately enough that we’ll also see around the fringes of the city: the Badlands, the Oil Fields, etc.

“Just afterward I spied him conversing with another Greenie on a nearby bench, solidifying the connection. Green tiles too, you’ll notice.

“Then to up the ante and finish the deal we shortly run across *3* identical, different Greenies (with brown shirts) meeting in the middle of a busy Kabusie street next to the roundabout Grassy also cited. Green tiles on either side of the street there too.

“So bringing back Washington state into the picture like with Kabusie, I have decided this is actually about the Green, the White, the Black,” Fern Stalin summarized at the Yalta Bar and Grill in Castle Town to her pal Lichen Roosevelt, with no Churchill still to be found. She’s talking about 3 central Washington rivers now, and how their histories intersect toward the beginning of the last century. “Green use to be White up to Black,” she started in this vein. “Then in 1906 the course of White changed after a land altering flood and Green no longer flowed into it just above a town called Auburn. Instead Green became its own entity, separate from White, up to Black about 10 miles north, which is the Black River. Then in 1916 things changed again with the opening of (Seattle’s) Lake Washington Ship Canal, an event that lowered the level of the namesake lake by 9 feet, thereby drying up former outlet Black as its water flowed instead toward Puget Bay. Thus Black no longer flowed into Green. Disconnection in that direction too. Follow me?”

“Disconnection… of both Black… *and* White… to Green?”

“Very good, Lichen. You’ve been studying your soils again. And that started… what?”

“The war,” she said confidently.

“The war to end all wars. Green vs. Gray — or Grey with an e, either one — depending on which side you want to emerge on top or maybe depending on which side of the ocean you’re on, British or American. Like Diablo and Draco. Trouble is, it never ends itself. Ouroboros. ‘Nother one. And Old Mabel’s Little Big got sucked into all that when Mars entered the fray, as was inevitable.

“Gray is Black and White together,” Lichen continued to grasp and grapple with Fern’s concepts. “Therefore, Gray is separate — disconnected — from Green. Therefore… um.”

“We must bring in the Indians to continue,” offered Fern. “Where Black and White historically intersect at what they called the Inside Place — pre-1906. True Gray. Or Grey with an e. We must go there next. Find the within spot, the still one. I just hope it’s there still,” she tried to joke. Lichen didn’t crack a smile. She’d figured out something while Fern attempted jest, perhaps a transfer of talents in the moment. Sages. They had to look for sages. Little and Big Soos, hard to differentiate from each other at the source. She excitedly told Fern this, which led to the uncovering of these old pictures from photo-novel 3. The expression “wow” comes to mind (!), since the name here is from a SIXMILE tributary of Washington state’s Green River near Auburn called Soos and not the Gravity Falls character.

Keep in mind that Mabel’s name also originates in this TV show. Along with her twin brother Little Big’s.

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00430513

“Hmm, interesting picture over there,” Fern said, noting that it was on the wall shared with *Shell*ey’s apartment.

Lexi wanted to get to the main point. “So what’s this… cube all about? Why is it — why does it look like plywood? *And* (she looks around)… where the heck are we? What happened to all the, er, shading?”

“Good question. And the answer is: we are in an old place now. Graphics improve with each new game generation. We are not in Nightsity any longer. Not really.” Fern turned to her traveling companion, the one she nabbed from Kabusie which is actually Kabuki (as overarching Nightsity is actually Night City). “You’ve been here before. You were a brain-daze editor here as well as there. I’m going to surprise you, Lexi. This may have come first.”

Lexi stares at the cube, trying to remember. She reviews what she knows. Fern, or a miniature version thereof, a robot or doll or something, found the cube in a ditch and took it in for evidence. She disappeared again and then came back larger (normal); said she was going to take it to a friend’s apartment and that Lexi should join her. So: here we are, teleport between dimensions successful. Fern had been wanting to try it out for a while. But the friend’s door was locked and the security orb was on. So she had to bring it here next door. As close as she could get. Owned by a girl from Montana of all places. Just like where Lexi got the kit for the flathead style robot she built specifically to explore the Kabusie ditches, where my train of thoughts end.

“Oh.” Fern realized, helping me out and allowing me to continue. “This is *your* apartment, Lexi. You live next door to Shelley.”

Lexi remembered.

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00430509 (Elizabeth)

“Never mind the dead guy,” she said remotely to me when I reached the bottom of the pit. “That’s another story — we know that one already. Like Philip’s. Instead: focus on the hand.”

I looked around, turned on the thermal level. Grasping obviously, since the hand had been severed from its owner for, what was it, *67* years. Nothing detected except for the nearby, much fresher flesh. Silly to try. But there were rumors that the hand was alive separate from the body. Thanks to the ring. I tried another tack, a more sensible one. Gold detection through my Midas Ability mod (Thanks Rosebud1941!). Handy for creeks up in the hills, handy for here pardon the pun. I’d made a small fortune in combination with my exploring skills. Surprised more people don’t try their hand at it (sorry again!). But no gold detected in the area. This was all so much trash. I’d run out of my few options. Except, hmm, for one other long shot…

1/2way back to the top, we met up in person again across a dangerous, last gap. “Did you find it? We lost contact when you started digging around the bottom. Probably damaged the receptor on some metal or something.”

“Probably,” I said back. Radiation. Who would have thunk except for someone with a uranium ring already in their possession. Me. I stashed it up the only safe place I could think of at the time, pretending to have a sudden itch in that area. My bunghole, ow ow ow. “Uranus” for uranium, I thought with a painful, secret smile.

Saying I’d found nothing while clinching my sphincter more tightly than ever, I took a final leap…


Made it!

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00430508 (inversions)

“Of course I’m not going to take that playdoll on a world tour, Mysti. You *are* Mysti? Aren’t you?”

“You can call me that if you wish,” V admitted. She’s become the person she should have listened to and heeded most. The Devil is in the cards. She glances over at the golden gun beside her again, knowing it was almost the end.”

“No no, I’ve put that bogus world behind me, that bogus adventure. Like I said, it looks nice in comparison to 1998 and Omikron and all, but–”

“Jonny,” V Mysti requested, wanting to enjoy the cityscape from the rooftop while she could. “No more talking please.”

And shortly after that it was over.

—–

In another ending, she appears before non-suicidal V as normal as normal could be in this dark dark world, tribute to “Bladerunner”‘s Pris played by Darryl Hannah back in the day put behind her as she moves to an ancient forest region of Poland to start a new life, ditching Nightsity just like Lexi wanted to. Before she found the Ditch. Was this the right thing to do?

—–

“Something over there to the right, Lexi. Can you see it?”

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00430507 (14800)

“I was about to ditch Nightsity and move away when I found the DITCH.”

“The… robot,” I interpolated.

“Yes. And then I built my own in response. To explore the, er, network.”

“Network of ditches,” I interpreted again.

“Yes. A lot of it centers around the loop. And the creek.”

“Kabusie,” I added once more.

“Right. Ralph was sent in. My name for it.”

“Well, um. What did he find?”

“She. But *she* came out a little different. It was hard for me to see at first. A minor change in the circuits. But then other things started happening. Loops themselves. Growing upon each other. The robot had become the creek. Just like before.”

(to be continued)

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00430506

“*Hey look*”

—–

“Something about that magenta paint, Lexi. Magenta in general.”

“Of course,” she said, glad to have him back in her chair, whatever their ultimate status as a couple. The actual Dizzy Lizzy’s now and not just a facade in Our Second Lyfe — just beyond this paint actually. And the Magician graffiti with Silverhhand manifesting underneath it. He stares at the pink from across the road. Might as well be the universe.

—–

We go back to Our Second Lyfe for the next scene. Shelley is trying out Jonny’s famous Mars cyberpunk guitar in his apartment set up in NWES City where we last saw her and beau-friend Edward reading dusty books on a flamingo pink bed appropriately enough. Yes, I’m trespassing again for the sake of a message. Prop is 500 lindens, pretty reasonable for the detail and animations, but I’ve just paid 1120 for the Silverhhand avatar and I have a monthly cap on such things. Or so I say.

“She’s pretty good for a novice,” Jonny begins. “Are you going to tag along when she goes on her world tour?” he quips.

“If it comes to that,” Edward replies in stride. “Question is: are *you* going to take her on tour? Mars guitar.” He glances over at her, rocking away to a Tin Can tune, “Baby Universe” I believe, 1 after the song about a talking horse.

“Listen,” Jonny breaks character. “I’m going to have to get up. This animation is killing my arms.” He gets up, looks down on the silver chair that matches his hand. “Great world, by the way. Graphics are *way* better than something that came out in, say, 1998.”

“Hmph,” says Edward to this. He has Shelley. He’s happy with the graphics as is. “Sooo…” he prompts.

“Sure, sure. Let’s just get out of here and back to a *real* world.”

Nearby Curt Korbain jumps for joy at the news. “World tour, world tour!” he chants over and over while Fern watches on, fascinated like Art before her.

We’ll get back to him and her soon enough.

(to be continued)

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00430505 (they only come out at night)

From the rail, she looks at the car submerged in the small pool of water in the ditch section of Kabusie, then she looks at the cat on the container at the shore. “Philip,” she calls over to it and not the car, because the Philip within the body of the car’s driver was no more. No response from the feline. “Phil. Phillie.” Nothing. Fern concludes that the action which could have occurred must not have happened. Transfer of man into cat. Just before the drowning. She drops the list as she was suppose to do and moves on. She knows the camera will record everything, and that the piece of paper will be in the hands of the doll people soon enough. Robot dolls.

(to be continued)

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00430504 (Lexi)

“So you finally found me. Through a brain-daze of all things What is it. Daydreaming Gamer?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Although it could have just as easily been Lettuce Walk.”

She let out a short grunt. Acknowledgement? Or does she know something I don’t? I looked back into the expanse of the apartment. She made pretty good as a brain-daze editor, could afford one of the nicer digs in Kabusie here. Above most of the crime and grime. Above the world of the ditches which I knew fascinated her now. Thanks to the robot.

I gazed at the pseudo-flathead style version again she’s working on at her nearby table, parts shipped in from Montana. “Soo, you’re really going to go in there with that thing? Think you can actually make communication with ’em?”

“Plan to.” That’s all I could get out of her in that direction. “Speaking of which: How’s Panama?”

“I told her no on the Canal mission. Haven’t heard from her since. Satisfied?” I left out “lover” to end that sentence. Which way did she swing? Which way did *I* swing?

But, whatever, I had a base of operations in Kabusie. Door couldn’t be locked once I stepped in, rules of the game. We could be simply roommates or we could be more. Didn’t have to choose right this instant. Had time to figure things out, how the cards were played, what side of the shore we’re on, etc.

In the meantime, there were always brain-dazes. Lexi understandably had quite the collection.

(to be continued)

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00430503

“All comes from Old Grey and all will return. The illuminating light guides. The caboose is the last to disappear but the last to emerge. Black and White, Yin to Yang. Welcome.”

Lichen was getting tired of the joke; knew Fern was prone to such overkill. Often brevity for comedy was best. Good timing, Lichen knew. Fern needed to work on it.

“So you’ve explained the picture in *some* detail — can I call you Fern still?”

“*Original* Fern,” said the wee doll person still standing on the opposite corner of the picnic blanket from her, spread out between them like a quilted chessboard. Another board you’ll notice.

“And that’s, er, why you like to be called a *doll* person. Because you come from Doll.”

“Doll-*y*,” the little person emphasized. “I *am* a Dolly.” Silence for a while with this as Lichen absorbed. She tried to picture the picture he or she described (she had aspects of both sexes, Lichen observed). This one.

“Do you remember Phil? I called and called at the observing patio but no answer from the cat. This wasn’t Phil — Philip actually. Instead Philip lay at the bottom of this small pool in the ditch district of Kabusie, dead in his car after a visit to the bar. Drunk. Had the valuable pure bred cat with him that he bragged about to his girlfriend just earlier but somehow the cat survived. Standing on the container he or she came in by the shore. Maybe a mechanoid — still studying. Maybe that’s why the transfer couldn’t occur. Philip couldn’t become the cat just before dying because the cat had no inner soul to speak of. Working theory mind you. He had that power. We *all* know he had the power.”

“Fern,” said Lichen. “You’re an absolute trip!” Was this comedy at its purest, absurd statement after absurd statement? High entertainment at the least. “Good work,” she exclaimed, thinking all this was made up. It wasn’t; that’s the ultimate joke.


“Philip?”

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