Category Archives: Heterocera

too soon

Mary usually talked to Ralph (horse) during her after-dark angling sessions at Rubisea, but tonight was different. Indigo, a night owl herself, made an introduction.

—–

Indigo was full of questions about her new home. “Why do you call it the Rubi Sea?” the blue woman asked in her deep, almost masculine voice. And with odd overtones to it.

“Ru-BI-se-A,” Mary pronounced correctly. “It’s just a joke name. It’s a little pool of water but we call it a sea, see? And of course Rubi is the sim it’s in — we’re in. Well, *you’re* in. Say you just moved in night before last?” She looked over at the trailer sitting on the southwest corner of the lot, perched atop the spring that feeds the pool. She was eager to go take a closer look but Indigo seemed to want to keep her distance from it, maybe so as not to wake kinfolk Angus and Ragdoll inside.

” Ru-BI-se-A,” Indigo repeated, and gazed over at the water to her left. “And this *perch*, you say, is the only fish in it. Like the Perch restaurant daddy and sis and I ate at yesterday with the big, human head mounted on the wall — another Perch. And then to add to it we had the perch at Perch.” She pointed left. “From this pool?”

Nah, these little fishes are hardly worth the bait to catch him. The restaurant’s fish are imported from the big fresh water lakes over in the Pond District, I believe. Tethia and Sesea. Maybe Pruni too.”

“Tethia and Sesea and Pruni.” Indigo found that saying names aloud helped her remember them. Or writing them down — but she forgot to bring her notepad and ink pen out tonight. She was going to start taking notes on the position of all the trees of the forest. Her daddy said that’s how she can help best right now in their efforts. Ragdoll will focus on religion, he’ll focus on The Diagonal as a whole, and Indigo will have the woods. She’s started reading Karl’s “Blood Curdling Tells of the Rubi Woods,” a Collagesity classic by now.

“But tell me more about yourself,” Mary then requested. “I know you’re from Obscure just over the hill — beyond The Wall. But were you born there?” Mary was guessing not, judging by her colorful appearance.

“Bennington.” Indigo almost spit the name out. “Don’t want to talk about it,” she added clippingly.

So Mary thought of other things for potential discussion. “How did you get involved in this — Pot-D wasn’t it?”

Indigo reflexively found herself biting her tongue again. She had slipped up near the beginning of their nighttime conversation, so glad she was to talk to another human being besides Angus and Ragdoll. So she decided to erase the faux pas from Mary’s mind. Indigo began toying with the triangular red amulet hanging round her neck, with glints from its silver skeletal hands catching Mary’s eye now and then. “Beautiful, isn’t it. My daddy gave this to me when I turned 13.” Indigo then reached around with both hands and removed the necklace, laying it on the table between them and making sure the triangle faced Mary full on. The fisherwoman was already transfixed by now.

“Pot-D is a secret between you and me Mary. Collagesity will know in time what it means, but for right now you must keep it locked away in your mind. Locket. Locket. Lock-it.”

And just like that the deed was done. Indigo gathered up the necklace and said she had to get back to bed now since the sun was about to come up. Mary picked up her fishing pole and headed back to Darkly Manor, with the last thing she recalled about their conversation being Indigo’s hatred of her home town. Farmington, wasn’t it? Something “-ing”, anyway. Pretty sure.

“Goodbye, um…,” but Mary also couldn’t quite recall the name of the horse she had been friends with going on a year now.

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new Max related graffiti found in still vacant Stairs Gallery

But who’s Ruby? observing Ragdoll wonders.


Also new: binocular viewer atop Stairs.

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The introduction of Pot-D.

“Thank you for waiting, Roger.”

“No problem… The Bill.”

“Bill, please. For now.”

“Well I’ll get straight to it. Since this is the only Fisher Island in Wisconsin (Roger indicates the map still displayed on the media feed of The Table Room), and then the only *Fishers* Island — plural — in the state is on a Hazelhurst topo map — that we’re talking about an exchange: Fisher or Fishers Island for New Island. I am such an exchange, after all, since I’m not Roger Waters but Roger Pine Ridge. And it has worked out all right for me. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You are indeed,” affirms Bill. “And we’re glad to have you sitting at our Table. You are *The* Variant, as I might be *The* Bill. Interesting symmetry.”

“Is it?”

“Could be.”

Roger puts a hand to his naturally cracked lips. “Does this Ruby have to affect the change? Can you not do it yourself?”

“As you know, RPR, I am indeed queen of Collagesity, but only because Mabel is so involved in New Island that’s she’s rarely here. Once she returns — all this aberrant energy she feels is dealt with — then she’s back here and a battle shapes up. I need to know what side you’re on. I’d like you to stand with me, obviously. Not that your position at The Table is in doubt, it’s just…”

“So Mabel controls Ruby,” interrupts an engrossed Roger Pine Ridge. “Ruby, the girl of 15, of course, and not Rubi the Woods. No one can control the forest.”

“Not so fast on that, Roger PR, my aberrant friend. We have a plan.”

“We?”

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It’s official.

Roger Pine Ridge is back in town, and in his old apartment next to SoSo Mall formerly shared with old girlfriend Cyberpaperdoll, who, you might recall, ran off with a younger, hipper dude named Bandit Boy during his stint in Iris in the heart of the Heterocera continent. Roger says he’s tired of toying around, as he put it, with our user Baker B. up in the real world, and was itching to get back to playing a “less pressurized, less constrained” part in the still evolving “Collagesity mythos” — again his words. Here he poses with the cutout of another, directly related Roger at the town’s Blue Feather Club: Roger “Syd” Barrett, his fellow bandmember during the early days of psychedelic mega-group Pink Floyd and its original driving force. The mantle of band leader passed from Roger (Syd) to Roger (Roger) in early ’68, as Syd’s mind gradually turned to mush. But you see his fingerprints all over later (and more commercially successful) Floyd in such albums as “Wish You Were Here”, “The Wall,” and, of course, the masterpiece of them all, 1973’s “Dark Side of the Moon”, whose main theme is elements of the world (constraints of “Time”, pressures of “Money”, etc.) that lead one to go mad (“Brain Damage”).

Roger Pine Ridge had his way paid out of the Iris “swamp village” by newly crowned continental queen Bill — The Bill. He chose to enter the real world first, but now leaves behind the old, old disagreement of Missouri vs. Arkansas as the heart of our US of A to focus on “virtual frivolities”.

Again, his phrasings. Welcome back Roger!

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more effigies

Once again disguised as a girl of relatively ordinary height, Bettie/Tonshi Ashokan entered Collagesity from the west at sunset and spotted something different about this statue in front of the Town Diner, a 2d copy of Rodin’s “The Thinker”.

It was moving back and forth — barely perceptible but still obviously present. And the vibrating would both slow and increase in radius in the coming weeks until a climactic point is reached. Think about that, attached giant rock and spoon.

—–

“Ahh, my love! I thought I’d greet you by Pitch’s new statue so you’d know the way. Right across this bridge, light of my life.”

“Thanks. Back at you, Buster my sweets!” She changed to match him one-to-one before they crossed the wood plank bridge to their new home.

“Over here dear. It’s this smaller house.”

“Oh.”

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2 weeks earlier…

“Tell me what to do, Max. Give me guidance.”

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The Max

Ragdoll was the first person to point out that if you stand atop the Stairs Gallery (still vacant as of this writing) and increase your draw distance to just over 300 meters, the almost totally white Max Statue will appear to the northeast. It then became sort of a fad to have impromptu parties there on Friday nights to celebrate the mysterious, 20 meter high deity perched atop the Second Lyfe Railroad in that direction. But Sister Martha Lamb quickly snuffed out any chance for the get-togethers to develop into yet another rival religion in town to her own. She declared it idol worshiping, and threatened to write the Lindens (rulers of our world) to have the statue torn down. The threat worked: either avatars moved over to Ragdoll’s old trailer park to continue worship (these numbered three: 30something couple Richard and Linda Abingdon, along with octogenarian Steve Barker), or people stayed in Collagesity and conveniently forgot all about it, including Ragdoll. After all, by this time she had a new boyfriend named Jerry Richardson to deal with, an older man himself and well into his 50s when they shared their first bowl of Bumpy’s ice cream purchased from the new Bodega Marketplace dessert bar. Yeah, Collagesity is doing just fine these days, and another religion may have muddied the spiritual waters too much. But Max remains there for all to see from Stairs, and — if you increase your draw distance to the, um, *max* (512 meters) — from about anywhere in town within eye shot actually. Long Live Max!


The eyes of Max.


Max: Second Lyfe RR in front; Great Wall in back.


Max above Angus Nuffin’s Blue Star Truck Stop.

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mum 02

After the physical (dinner) grilling the next day, Ragdoll planned to start in on the verbal grilling while they sat on the porch and let their bodies digest all that heavy meat they’d just consumed. Beef and chicken and fish all! For they had expected Indigo and her new beau to show up, the same dad burn Justice that Alma had just gotten rid of. Ragdoll thinks her sister may be doing this just to irk everyone around her! But Justice complained that he still couldn’t sit in a regular chair for more than 30 minutes at a time, and they ended up having dinner in bed over at their own trailer in Tinseltown. More food for them, however, and Ragdoll had overeaten due to nerves. Yet she instilled zen calm within while sitting in her lawn chair pretending to doze, and was seemingly good to go after about 10 minutes.

“Daddy?” she began.

Angus Nuffin roused himself from an actual nap. “Yes, pumpkin?”

“Do we have, um… any pie left in the fridge?”

—–

Ragdoll just couldn’t do it; couldn’t get herself to talk about the conversation she overheard last night. Or mainly overheard, for there was still the wall that muffled some of it. She loved her daddy so much and didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and knew he’d tell Indigo and her when the time was right. But she was planning as well: she’d just herself started dating Tin Tin, a cousin of Justice actually (and how they met), but considerably smarter and nicer. She’d miss that relationship. But maybe something else as good or better would come up in this Collagesity they were heading to. Not far over the hill, Bill had said last night. Just a hop and a skip, as she put it — just beyond the wall.

While her daddy began dozing again, Ragdoll quietly got out of her chair and walked around the side of the trailer, “show property lines” toggled on.

The Diagonal, she thinks, staring at the northwest corner of the Obscure sim. So close yet so far. And in Rubi it would be a little further still, according to Bill. But the woods amplified — those were her exact words, she recalls. Ragdoll returns to her lawn chair, pondering what it could mean.

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mum 01

He was staring at the test pattern on the television, wishing MTV was on this late at night, when the soft knocks came at the door. He checked the clock on the wall to his left: 2:01 am on the nose. Heart beating harder, he knew this could only be one person given the precise timing. Ragdoll and Indigo had both gone to bed around 11, he reckoned; most likely fast asleep. Because he knew what the conversation would be about and there was no need for his daughters to be involved right now.

Even then, with only this brief prompt, Angus Nuffin started making assessments of his property, started planning how to get from this place to another place. For The Diagonal here had been losing energy for a considerable amount of time now. There was hardly anyone over at Lollygagger Lane these days for instance, although in its heyday it was one hopping place. Like a perpetual bunny hop, and he inwardly laughed at his joke. Because this meant the person at the door had also visited the psychiatrist over there already. She would not remember the contents of their meeting until later, maybe not until after the move, he speculated. He might even have to be in disguise for a while wherever they ended up.

The soft knocks repeated. Better not keep *our queen* waiting any longer. He made himself get up off the couch and answer the door.

“I think you’ve been expecting me?”

Angus immediately spotted the large red ring on the strange woman’s hand. “Yes, mum. Please come in.” He waved her over to the most comfortable chair in the trailer.

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The Point of Barnaby Point

“The 3rd, Baker Bloch. Er, Pitch Darkly. Maybe you should just *turn into* Pitch Darkly since you seem to like the character so much. Right Mary?”

“It might be nice,” Mary said from behind them. She then hunches over further so she can see the Wisconsin map with the proximate New Island and Fisher Island better. “Do you think this will convince this Leeman or Leemon? There’s Sunset Beach in the lower right corner (after all).”

“His childhood home,” Bill finishes. “Well, it’s obvious something is going on in this and that other Wisconsin location at least.”

“Outagamie County,” Pitch Darkly adds. “Leeman there as well, mirroring the Leemon in Missouri. Only other one.”

“Right,” reinforces Bill. “You getting all this Mary?”

“I… think. Where’s the Wisconsin Leeman? Do we have a map of it as well?”

“Of course,” declares Bill, returning to the Oracle home page and looking up ‘Leemo’. Only 1 direct hit: Leemon Missouri, but with a lone variant of Leeman. Which leads us to the only other Leeman, in Wisconsin. She clicks the appropriate link and adjusts the map.

“Just a placemarker,” continues Bill. “But perhaps an effective one. Subtle but effective. It’s in his home county, you see. The new one.”

“Oh.” Mary scratches her head. “So Fisher Island is right next to New Island in Beaver Dam Lake, Wisconsin…”

“The two biggest islands of 22 in that lake,” Pitch tacks on. “And that’s the only New Island in America besides the one in the big swamp in Georgia. (Which) probably doesn’t count.”

“Fisher Island is a blog invention,” continues Mary, slightly irritated at her train of thought being interrupted. But she gets over it quickly — fascinating subject for her. “New Island is also a blog invention but… connects to Leeman or Leemon’s New Island through Barnaby Point. Barnaby Point exists in both.”

“Correct, Mary,” replies Pitch, proud of his studious spouse. For he had married Mary on March 25th of this year in the Cult of Oo’d Church, the only place of worship in town at the time. One could say they were still in their newlywed phase. With all the attached highs and lows, of course. Tough dealing with New Life situations; but they were managing. Now that Pitch was out of the thick of his Russian phase. Still… the statue… “Art gallery laden Barnaby with its Barnaby Point in *his* New Island also being near the Sunset Beach of *his* New Island,” Pitch states. “Couple of miles apart.”

“Artist Point,” utters the freelancing Mary. “‘Artist Point Interactive’… that’s the *Hazel meeting*. Mentioned in Pot Head’s and Sheriff’s new business blurb in the ‘New Island Gazette’ *Our* ‘New Island Gazette’.”

“They are no longer Sheriff and Pot Head in this blog,” corrects Bill. “They are Marty and Jay or Jay and Marty — take your pick. They are too stoned at any one point — get it? point — to care which of their names comes first, I would venture.” Bill was known for her bad puns, but at least she has a bit of a sense of humor now. Unlike olden times when she first came to power in Collagesity. She’s softened. “I’m tired,” she suddenly declares. “This meeting is over. Go back to your Darkly Manor and think of things to discuss in *our* next meeting. Which is tomorrow. And I expect *you two*” — she turns and points to the two 4 handed librarians sitting around The Table — “to contribute as well. And not just ‘carrot’… and ‘glasses.’ Something substantial and with meat that we can lay out on the table and feast upon. Beef or chicken. Or at least fish. Can you do that for me, hmm?”

The librarians stare at each other, knowing they can’t.

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