Category Archives: Heterocera

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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ending 02

They changed back to their normal forms before hitting the hay. Angus never slept as Sid, and he didn’t want to set a bad example for Ragdoll. This was their *primary* form. The New Island alternate should be just that.

—–

Ragdoll pondered later on in bed: He didn’t even ask me what part of The Diagonal I was thinking of. Poor father! He should go on a vacation after this. And he can! Now that he no longer works for the Perch restaurant as a chef. Bill came all the way out here to apologize for the firing, as we knew she would. She wants to round up as many townspeople as she can in her corner before Mabel’s return — ‘nother queen; War of the Queens. But the dehypnotizing or unhypnotizing or “waking up” didn’t proceed as planned. We assumed that we could just *talk* about that night and the memories would flood back. That’s what happened before with Frank and Alma.

Her thoughts turned back to that particular spot on The Diagonal as she turned in bed, trying really hard this time to get some sleep. “Hucka Doobie’s Bank of Despair,” she mumbled aloud. “That could do the trick.”

—–

The next morning:

“Hucka Doobie’s Bank of *What*?”

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ending 01

“Don’t you guys watch anything but MTV?” complained Bill/Wheeler good-naturedly.

“I’m telling you Queen Bill.”

“Bill, please. Or The Bill. Whichever.”

“You were sitting *right* there when you told me we had to move our trailer here to Rubi. Well, not in that chair, but the chair I use to have over in Obscure.”

Bill tested the springs again a little. “Yeah, I’m really sorry about this furniture — we’ll get you a better chair. And the toilet in the living room!

Unacceptable. I’ll get Clyde the town fixit man out here as early as I can. He’s working on the pipes of the Oo’d Church this weekend. But we’ll get him out here asap.”

“The dining room set is nice,” states Angus Nuffin, attempting to paint a brighter picture of their situation than Bill.

“No, this is my responsibility. I’m early in my rulership. I’ll right the wrong.”

“Okay, that’s great Bill. We really appreciate it. Now… back to that night you visited me in Obscure…”

—–

“She just doesn’t remember it,” Angus complains to his daughter Ragdoll later on while sitting at the dining table. “And I don’t know how to jog her memory. She’s new at her job — *I’m* new at this. Indigo can *hypnotize* with the best, but unhypnotizing someone like Bill (he was going to say, “as stubborn as” but decided on “like” here) — not as easy as I, we, supposed.”

Ragdoll listened intently. “Then maybe The Diagonal itself should wake her up. Indigo could take her on a walk in the woods…” She paused, thinking of a better idea. “Or…”

“Obviously, Obscure is no good, since we moved the trailer from there because of the lowered energy.”

Ragdoll remained patient, knowing her beloved father was under a lot of pressure right now to bring back Bill’s memories. “What I was going to say,” she continued in her kind way, “is that we should take her to a particular place on The Diagonal. But not Obscure.”

“Right, right. Sorry I interrupted you there.” Distracted by a sound behind him, Angus looked at the clock. 2:01 in the morning. “We better get some sleep. Looks like Indigo is staying in the woods again tonight. Good for her! I couldn’t ask for 2 more dedicated daughters to the cause. Pot-D forever!”

“Pot-D forever!” echoed Ragdoll almost as enthusiastically.

“Before you turn in, sweetie, let’s take one more look at your brand new alternate self.”

“Okay, but only if you change in turn,” replied Ragdoll sweetly.

“Alright, Zero. On the count of 3, then. 1…2…”

“You look great, Ragdoll.”

“Shirley, please. When I’m in this form.”

“Of course.” Angus/Sid watched Ragdoll/Shirley scratch again. “But we have to give you something for those fleas, birthday girl.”

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outside

If I could just block out Linden — Philip Linden – and make Tronesisia whole(some?) again, she could come back to life and reestablish lemony goodness over blimey lime at New Island. Sight returned, *smell* returned. But while the kiln exists, the firing could happen again. Over and over. Female receptacle.


Artist Point, July 20 2018

Ratzenberger could become the original Our Second Lyfe sim, not Da BOOM. Ratzenberger and its *still present* wacky rabbit. Pretty amazing.

Mr. Matrix, equipped with his own ratmobile, had laid the bait several months back in the Pond District’s Rodentia. Cheese for the rat, but also carrot for the rabbit. Rat bit. But then he determined that he was probably the rat (bit) himself he did seek. Another wacky loop.

So that’s it. I must return to the Pond District and follow up on the story of Mr. Matrix and also Wheeler’s presence there. Mt. Pond outside a window. Paint bait. The wackies look on and get organized and in line behind her. “Paint paint paint!” they shout in unison. “Art art art!”

She must return to the point of it all.

She imagines dreaming on its top.


Rodentia, July 20 2018

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0009, 0613, New Island, Pond District

switcher

“You see, it’s so peaceful in here compared to your church.”

“My *former* church. I’m with you all the way, Pitch darling,” Mary whispered back to her vampire husband. “Martha Lamb’s just gone plain *loco* with these urges of hers…. exposed for what she really is if you ask me.”

“Precisely. The Cult of Oo’d always admits such urges and encourages their uses. Cheese blocks them out. But cheese *is* the urges.”

“Can’t see what’s right in front of you.”

“Right.”

Bill, the Queen of Collagesity, finished up her rant and turned toward the victim. It was always the same ritual.

“Don’t kill me, sir, er, ma’am,” the bound clown begged. “I have so much to live for!”

—–

“Oops! That was really a squirter, Pitch, haha!”

But then suddenly loud talking Mary, all eyes upon them, turned red herself from embarrassment.

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one more there

“Mt. Pond, Ms. Sheila,” Adelaide says while staring out the window at the green landscape protrusion. “I *must* paint *that* soon.”

“How about July 11, 1922,” the strait jacketed lady mumbles, confusing the lot of ’em.

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seed point

Adelaide crawled around and crawled around, but still was unable to find New Island under this bed. Maybe the others would know more, she realized happily. I haven’t *thought* about asking them yet (!).

But in truth she had asked the other patients at Baumbeer Mental Hospital in the Tethia sim of Heterocera’s Pond District over and over this same line of questioning: Where is New Island? What happened to my art colony? Where are my *paintings*? She couldn’t face the fact that it was all gone, as if in a poof. Mid Hazel was the culprit. She grew tired of watching energy grow in that direction and put a quick halt to it. The catastrophe. Radiation in a lime green kiln. BOOM! But strangely, no harm to the involved buildings, and, outwardly at least, to the people either. Until they started dropping to the ground 4, 5, 6 days later. Not the people, the *art*. On display no more, and soon to derezz away into nothingness as creative energy continued to be drained.

Ground Zero?: the chair that the Tronesisia robot sculpture currently occupies at the Artist Point Interactive gallery, former location of the kiln where sculptress Tennessee Nuffin Butler fired her male parts in. It was a particular Red bit that Mid Hazel had chosen for the nascent seed. And it came from the future and had something to do directly with Bill and cheese.

Adelaide waves her hands in the air, trying to decide, once more, which way the wind blows.

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Achilles

An invisible cartoon boy, Martha Lamb thinks, studying Falmouth 36 once more on the 4th floor of the Fal Mouth Moon gallery. Hugged and loved by a visible cartoon girl with red shoes. Perhaps they are future lovers, or perhaps brother and sister. Maybe he has a defect that hides him from view — a malady — but is loved by his sister still. Odd that I think this, she ruminates.

Then over here, further away in a field, the inversion: girl invisible and boy visible. The “E” on the next collage over blinks on and off. This *is* love; mutual exchanging.

If I could just *reach* into the collage… somewhere about… here.

Or is it here?

Here?

—–

So close yet so far. How to get from there…

… to here. Swish away the pain into the ice and snow and make it all go away. Football successfully kicked.

—–

“‘Copyright Protected Image’,” she read from the picture in front of her. “And to think I was going to get rid of all this in Collagesity, Sid my dearest. But now I think it is a gateway to the Great Beyond, fries and liquor be damned.”

“You shouldn’t say that about your church,” Sid offered. “You were so devoted to it before.”

She turned to him. “The Diagonal changed me, made me into a true woman. I was like two-dimensional before. *You* changed me.”

“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that…”

“All that’s left is the hand and how to break through. Without pain. They say that there’s no gain without pain, but I’m thinking of something else.”

“Yeah, Martha. I need you to listen tonight.”

She went on. “It’s the 36th collage of this series all right. I’ve been studying it nightly for going on half a week now. The Diagonal is giving me energy to understand.”

Sid grabbed her hand in order to stop her. “Listen, Martha. We need to talk. About The Diagonal.” He let go of her hand. “We can’t use it in that way any more.”

“No?” Her voice was suddenly far away, as across a field.

“No,” he said firmly. “I need to tell you the story of who I really am, how I really got here. It all started with the firing.”

“Firing?” Tears formed in her eyes despite her efforts. “What firing?”

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daydream

“Okay. But it was definitely Smelly Santy. You remember — from the Mission. The eggs, Bill. They must have killed him (!). The Bennington experiments.”

“Nasty place. Even I would admit that.”

“Dwayne, a complaint from the customer at Table D.”

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fired

Angus Nuffin was happy. He knew this would be his last night as a chef at Perch Restaurant. Last piece of tuna in the fridge — everything was set up. Yes, there’s his supervisor Dwayne coming round the corner after taking The Bill’s order.

“Nuffin, this is a *very* special customer. One grilled tuna for the new queen of Collagesity, *lightly* cooked.”

“Coming up boss.”

“And *don’t* sit around on the appliances if you’re not cooking. *Clean* or something.”

“Right you are boss.” Nuffin nimbly hops off the dishwasher and heads to the fridge.

—–

“All right Dwayne you bastard,” Angus mutters under his breath. “Just move along so that I can burn this baby to an utter crisp.”

“I recognized him immediately, The Bill.”

“Bill will do. We’ll think about the royal appellation later.”

—–

There you go.

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