Category Archives: Cass City^

December 15, 2023 · 10:59 pm

00410313

The disappearance of the gargoyles on the return passage really started throwing her game off. She fell on some loose ruble in their former room, near the crosshairs where your hair and also head could get roasted and toasted. No longer. “Where *are* they? What *happened* to them?” she said in a panic as she brushed off her polka dot ribbon dress and attempted to stand upright again. “Am I even in the right room?” But she knew the steep stairs behind her could lead only to this place.

More obstacles were ahead, including an invisible barrier impeding her way where there was open air before. She felt like a rat in a maze, trying to find the cheese that is the surface of this Cass City town and the return to her warm, safe desk at the mayor’s office. She felt in her dress pocket — *curses*; never should have worn this cursed dress. But the coins (real? fake?) and the figurine of the statue were still there. If only she could find the way out.

—–

The Mayor checked the time on her watch, cursing as well. “Where the f— is she?” she said aloud. “And, more importantly, where are those coins and that statue?” Town Council meeting in 12 hours. She *can’t* postpone any longer (!).

She turns to the map on the display board. “*Corvo*. *You’re* doing this. Aren’t you, you little bugger of an island?”

“ANSWER ME!” And here I believe she started to sob inconsolably, remembering the Abyss again.

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December 15, 2023 · 11:26 am

00410312

“Bulby, do you think I’m… pretty?” She was on her 3rd wolfberry wine mug and starting to feel it. She needed a confidence booster from one not directly involved. In other words: the robot before her had no sexual desires to impede his judgement. She tugs nervously at the ribbon on her right shoulder while waiting, almost accidentally untying it. Realizing this, she quickly moves the hand back to her lap, locking it between her thighs with the other one.

Bulby’s eyes in his head pretend lit up like 2 golden coins themselves. “I calculate there’s a 70 percent chance that is so,” he rattled off, then stared into her eyes with his now dimmed ones to see if this pleased her. He spotted mixed results and decided to lite up again and change the calculation to 100 percent, defying his logic. He can override it like that if needed. He had evolved beyond pure mechanoid back in the days of the 1st Robot Revolution (= 1st Robolution), marching with his kind on Washington B.C. a little before the 1st Millennium. Certainly a long time ago by human standards but not so much for him. He’d seen the Carthaginians come and go but kept his mouth shut about such things. He thinks, as a robot infant, he may have seen Atlantean “non-men” at a birthday party for his 300 year old robot sister Brightie growing up fast in the eyes of their robot parents Wattage and Voltagia, both over a 1000 years old themselves by that point and just glad they were able to build two children inside a formerly thought of infertile inner sanctum.

“Thank you (*hiccup*). That makes me feel better.”

“You better go back to the surface before you forget how to turn off the gargoyles. I’d follow you and make sure you do but, as you know, I’m not allowed to leave my post here. Must guard the treasure with my robot life if needed.”

“I understand, Bulby. Just (*sigh*) nice to have someone to talk to (*hiccup*)… for a change.”

“How’s your sex life?” he thought to ask, then saw that mixed expression again and decided to add, “only if you want to share. Madam Mayor comes down here sometimes,” he explains himself, “and gabs on and on about it. She has a, ahem, *interesting* one.”

“I’ve heard,” Clare said back. “Welp, mine is not worth these 2 fake golden coins on the counter between us (*hiccup*).”

“Oh. These are not fake,” spoke back Bulby, a bit of surprise showing through his highly filtered mechanical voice. He was just that shocked.

“They *aren’t*?” said Clare staring down at them just as shocked. Something had to give.

(to be continued)

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December 14, 2023 · 5:38 pm

00410311

Clare knew she shouldn’t have worn the ribbon dress, not yet. Madam Mayor had an assignment for her when she arrived at work the next day. To retrieve *two* golden coins from the hidden stash downstairs in the underground tunnels, no more but no less. “And be sure you turn off the gargoyles in the final chamber,” she reminded her secretary, her girl Friday. Yes, thought Clare here. Don’t want another Eldwina situation. But the sudden vacancy procured her job with the Mayor, after all. Weed out the careless, is how she likes to view it, not knowing the young girl from Gatesy Pearl personally. She’d heard she was a hard and fast typist. She liked to think she had a considerably softer touch on the keys without the loss of *much* speed. Yesterday’s ribbon change was the 1st she had to do since she started several weeks ago. This brought her thoughts back to her bad luck ribbon dress, her present situation. The underground was *spooky* — more dangers down there than just the fiery gargoyles, she felt. At least there was Bulby, a bright spot at the end. She’d known him in different, less dark times.

While in the final room with the treasure she took the opportunity to catch up with the robot, knowing the Mayor didn’t need the 2 coins until tomorrow’s meeting with the Town Council. She had to convince them, she said, that the connection with the Azores is more important than the one with Our Second Lyfe and the Maebaleia continent and such. “I have to explain to them that we are more connected with *Real* Life — up there in the real world instead of here in the virtual. In the end, you have to choose one or the other, see.” And so Cass City, Clare gathered, is being weighed in a balance against itself. There is a *real* Cass City up there, like there is a real Amiable over on the Portugal mainland, as seen in section one of this here photo-novel. And then there’s a virtual version of each. The difference is Cass City adds an alternate history layer, complicating matters. It’s not a more or less exact copy of its real self like Amiable. It plays broadly with the actual, setting up the possibility that Cass City is the replacement of itself up in the real world. This is what the Mayor wants to emphasize to the council. That there’s a chance their town is more real than the real one, if that makes sense. She’ll have to *make* it make sense.

“*Oh*,” she says to Clare before she leaves for the underground. “And also bring up the statue of the pointing man on the horse, you know, the miniature of the real thing that use to sit on that high ridge of Corvo. It might help me with my case. Bulby will show you where it is.”

“Yes ma’am,” and, steeling her nerves, she was on her way.

“I see you still have your hair, your head,” Bulby said while she sat down for her 1st mug of wolfberry wine, coins on the counter but for show not for pay. Everything was free down here. “Yeah, I’m not no Eldwina,” she said back, and both had a chuckle. Empty-headed, both knew or had heard about. “Probably didn’t even feel the fire burning it off,” one of the two joked a bit later.

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December 14, 2023 · 9:38 am

00410310

It was still before the Great War II that never was, leaving only the Great War in history books without a needed numeral to accompany it. Axis was not yet in control, and, even if he were, it would not result in war. Only a child (Alice Tart). 1939 would be the year by that time. But right now it was ’36.

They knew her as Clare by now, the Boss’ Girl Friday instead of Biff’s down at Southside. This was Northside or thereabouts, close enough to count. She heard the Desire streetcar pass by below and thought of conductor/driver Dennis Martinnis, what he said the other week to her as the rain poured down outside, making it undesirable to walk to work like she usually does. He asked: Are you the One?

“*There*, Madam Mayor,” she said, her physical work probably complete for the day. “Ancient computer’s fixed. All we had to do was change the ribbon.” This made her think of her ribbon dress that she elected not to wear to work today. Instead she chose something simpler, something plain and black and more conservative. Maybe she’ll try the ribbon dress out next week on the public but for now: inconspicuous will do. Until they find out about the coins.

The mayor was right beside her, just having finished rechecking office files for the missing 3-n-1 folder, another thing the Boss had in common with private dick Biff across town. No luck.

“Clare,” she said, turning. “That grey haired man who came to see me last week… Dextre or something.”

“Keith B., right,” Clare corrected, knowing where the confusion came from. He *does* look like a serial killer, albeit with a code. ‘Nother one.

“Were you here when he left? Weren’t you on some kind of break at the time?”

“Let’s see,” she thought out loud. “I let him in, you guys talked for a while. It was about 12 and he was still in there with you. Yes, I took my lunch break at the time. I didn’t see him leave.”

“And I didn’t follow him out. Got sleepy all of a sudden — can’t even remember the next hour or so. We had coffee,” she said, thinking back. “And donuts… he brought donuts.”

“*I* brought donuts,” corrected Clare again. “Per your suggestion. Said you had a lot of figuring out to do and needed caffeine *and* sugar, a double boost of the grey matter… as you put it.”

“Okay, *you* brought the donuts in.” She stopped, trying to picture the scene. The information was stupendous, almost knocked her off her feet without the needed drugs. Moby Prick is alive and well out there somewhere off the coast of Flores. And pyramids are out there as well! Atlantis; Abyss. She had seen into the depths of her soul and it wasn’t pretty. Dr. Mouse and his Serapis Club may have a point after all.

(to be continued)

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December 13, 2023 · 12:02 am

00410309

“Wait, wait! I want a ride!” Dr. Mouse didn’t *desire* to walk all the way from Southside to Northside through what he considered tough Midtown, Chinaville and all. Desire streetcar conductor Dennis Martennis spotted the important town figure just in the nick of time. SCREEEECH.

—–

“Drop me off at the Serapis Club, Dennis.”

“Another doctor meeting?” pried Dennis, known for such things. Few joys in being a lifetime streetcar driver in Cass City and knowing a lot of gossip/dirt about the place was one of ’em.

“Finished with the other doctors, Dennis. Just having dinner with myself tonight. Afterwards: me and Victoria and a couple of stiff drinks at the bar.”

“Nice. So you two are , erm, dating? I mean, there’s rumors in town. Just stuff you hear, mind you. Like, aherm, you created her for that purpose.” He slowed down for a rat crossing the rails. Whoops, there’s another one. And another — must be a family. Or a pack. He’ll named them Frank, Dean and Sammy, ha. Kind of dirty but also kind of cute. Kind of like him, he realized. He’s sort of giant rat himself.

During all this, Dr. Mouse kept silent, not wanting to reveal too much. He was indeed tinkering with Victoria for a reason, but what Dennis was thinking wasn’t it. Not really. He looked down at the cerulean blue paint stain still on his Ralph Lauren dress pants, knowing it was almost over.

(to be continued)

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December 11, 2023 · 12:11 pm

00410306

With part of the money she made off her successful debut album “Atlantis Rising”, she decided to take an extended trip to the Azores themselves, starting with Corvo, the smallest and least populated of the 9 island group and known for a huge stone statue of a pointing man on a horse perched atop one of its high ridges, supposedly dismantled and moved to Lisbon by the Portuguese government around the start of the 16th Century and then lost. Or so the legends go.

She tried to get into fishing while there… and failed. She’d settle for fishing out mysteries. She asked around about the equestrian statue, but tales were numerous and often varied wildly from each other. Some say the Portuguese themselves erected the horseman shortly after they discovered the island in the 1400s. They say the supposed inscription on the base of the statue, “Jesus, go ahead”, proves this, although it was originally claimed to be illegible. Some credit the Carthaginians who may have been in the area during the first millennium AD. Some dare to go even further back, before men as we know them began sailing the seas of the world. Pre-men known as Atlanteans. This is what she wanted to mine.

Another popular Corvo legend has it that a stash of coins was found in the cornerstone of a washed out house during the 1700s that predate the Portuguese, including many that were gold. No one on the island seemed to be an expert on this, but several directed her to a pawn shop on the neighboring island of Flores — in the City of Cass that we know pretty well now through these blog novels. But more appears to be there to explore and contemplate. One local even hinted to Supergal Ruby that the pawn shop owner *herself* had two of these gold coins stashed away on the premesis, but he seemed pretty mad to her, furiously producing thread on his oddly placed spinning wheel at Crow Beach in order, he said, to add to a giant ball of yarn she then found located about 100 meters further down the same Corvo beach. Guy who had the curious name of Gold himself, she noted, always paying attention to name synchronicities. We will return to him.


spinner…


… and ball

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December 7, 2023 · 6:02 pm

00410217

He checked progress in the book while Marsha rested her now covered arm on top of his hat, a sign of the irreality of the situation. “Let’s see, I’ve come into the pawn shop, I’ve found Marsha ‘Pink’ Krakow asleep on the job, I’ve spotted and then continued to gawk at her short pink hair, and then I’m reading this book to check on progress.” He puts down the book; continues to gawk at her hair while noticing the change of clothes. Only one thing left to do per his next line. “Go on… a date with me Victorian lady?” And so their second one and actually maybe their first official one was set up for that night at mirroring Shenanigan’s just across the street. There they would run into June Bug Johnston aka Plain Jane Johnston once more as their stories continue to grow and evolve.

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December 7, 2023 · 4:19 pm

00410216

Her new hair made her doze a lot but she figured it was the only way to get rid of the gargoyle dreams. Wanda in a hot tub there, Wanda in a ballerina dress over there, Wanda in a… well you get the picture(s). Biff Carter walked into the shop, interrupting her latest non-gargoyly dream. No more Wanda for a while. She even got rid of the green phone so she couldn’t call him first thing in the morning. She’d seen enough in the mirror. Greene’s Motel, she knew. There was no Greene’s Motel, not any more at least. Just a green door left of that color which led into the role playing room behind the main desk. The one she just used last night for that purpose, non-gargoyly indeed. She had to go back in time and make things right again. Dr. Mouse was now truly Alice’s father, thanks to the lucky Irish whiskey imbibed just before. She talked him into breaking the code! Swamp and sewer lesson learned.

“Pink — oh sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt–” He was embarrassed about catching her sleeping on the job but then realized it *was* her shop. No one else to answer to.

Pink stirred, tried to focus back into this reality. “Biff,” she recognized. “*Andrew* ‘Biff’ Carter.”

“No. *Wendell* ‘Biff’ Carter.” Is Pink drugged instead? He imagined her mind being a prison.

It’s also here he noticed the hair as her head continued to rise from the table and fully separated out from the rest of her outstanding pinkness. She now stared directly into his eyes. “Biff — yes, of course. *Wendell* ‘Biff’ Carter.” She looked around the almost empty shop, remembered her job, why she came to Cass City in the first place. Certainly not *this*. No she had a much bigger mission in mind than to carve out a Southside pawning niche. She came here because of the man standing in front of her… gawking.

“*Boy*,” he said. “That’s *different*. I *like*, but it’s… um…”

Marsha “Pink” Krakow reflexively reached up and felt her new doo. “I’m just trying it out, mind you. It’s called Victoria.” She gauged his reaction closely.

“Like in the Age? 50 years?”

“Er, kind of I suppose. Victoria,” she said again. “With a modern twist, a *Pink* twist.”

“Okay, um..” He couldn’t stop staring at it. Something about that hair.

(to be continued)

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December 4, 2023 · 5:02 pm

00410210

“She’s gone now.”

“She certainly had important information to relay to us.” And lo and behold his 50 year old cold was gone (!).

Time to move back to the present as inevitably as red turns yellow turns green turns blue. 1936. Or thereabouts.

—–

Dr. Mouse confessed to his daughter Alice about what happened. “Why didn’t you just pay for an abortion?” she queried in the diner the next day. Mouse had to run off to an appointment the day before or certainly they would have caught up then. Interview with another doctor, a more promising one than Grayson and especially Brown so he couldn’t miss it. Apologized and was on his way, leaving Alice to the pinball machine herself; left alone in the city once more. She peered up at the last score before inserting a quarter: 28064212. Lunar month. Deception. The Sun nowhere to be found. Gloomy day.

The huge Arabic number disappeared as her own scoring began.

Sunnier now. A boy in the far distance stops revolving around 10 to 13 to 10 etc. etc. and becomes 18 for a spell. He asks out the girl down the street he’s had a crush on forever. Now that he can speak to her eye to eye he figures: why not. Forecast doesn’t call for rain until Thursday. And today was Munday; time for maybe even several dates with tall, blonde Sarah. Or was it Nikki?

Back to Mouse and daughter Alice in the diner booth. “Octavia,” he hesitated, “… we had a different relationship than…” Did he want to say “clientele”? He just decided on the “others.” Her other men, her other clients, Alice understood. “She knew the man who owned the swamp, the one the psychic children in town were always altering and changing. This made her special in my eyes. The man’s name was…” He suddenly couldn’t remember, although he’d thought of him a thousand times since Alice’s conception on an old mattress in an alley back of Greene’s Motel (he assumed). “Robert,” he then recollected. He tried the name out on Alice.

“I don’t know that name,” she returned. “Do you mean Bob Levarbe? Leverber?” she tried again herself. “Levargee.”

“Bill,” he suddenly recalled. And a last name. Lavosier! He felt the air around him become heavier and more combustible. BOOMB! he recalled. He got too close.

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December 1, 2023 · 5:45 pm

shapes of things

Cass City photos

She found a half programmed “Victoria” — or what she knew back in Paper-Soap as a Claude (or Claudette) —  in the old Big Dick’s Halfway Inn building next door to the diner, proof her father was up to something. Why bug a robot if you don’t have a purpose?

And then there’s the mutable wall glyph…

Based on what’s out the window, she thinks it has something to do with the movement of time. 50 years. What changes in such a span?

—–

“She’s here.”

“Damn cold,” *sniff*.

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