Category Archives: Squared Root City

June 15, 2022 · 9:56 am

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He corrected me as soon as it came out of my mouth, perhaps before. “Bono, I’m Bono here,” he said. “And you’re Newt — we can’t change that.”

“But Peggy –”

“Peggy Smeggy.” He took a breath. “You don’t understand the implications yet. Darkside is *here*.” He looked me square in the eyes now, black inside black. He wasn’t evil but he came from a place of called Intensity. In Mississippi I believe. Very focused in his tasks, he was.

“So… you brought them here.”

“Yup,” with the “p” emphasized with a pop. I reviewed what I knew. I thought he was Nemo but he said he was Bono. Bono Jores, fresh from the bowels of Mississippi. Or was it Arkansas? Anyway, he presented me with the book; said it was the way out. He did this now.

“This is the way,” he said, scooting it toward me. “The Way.” He scooted it closer. “Open in the middle and start reading.”

“I–,” I started to protest. Closer. He even opened it for me, eyes still boring. But he was no Sherwood Anderson. Or was he?

—–

3 hours later — sunset — I finished the book that was the same as 1/2 a book. Everyone had left in the meantime, Bono to my right and Peggy Gertrude to my left. Peggy was still here with her friend over at another table in the establishment. And that’s where I headed next — to give her the good news. All was not lost.

The convincing took a while. Her hometown was still gone; I led with that. But there’s *another* hometown coming up where gravity’s not as much up in the air. “Aerial,” I said, and demonstrated with my hand.

(to be continued)

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June 15, 2022 · 8:29 am

disattached from land

“Can’t you pull one of your Tungaske type miracles to save my village?”

“I’m afraid not. Too small.”

She shed a tear, perhaps with more to come. Probably so. These were scientist tears, the tough ones. “Hard to believe it’s gone.”

“No one under 18. Really nothing we can do [Eyela]. (pause) I’m sorry.”

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June 13, 2022 · 10:19 am

Newt and Eyela (one strange rock)

“No. You go first,” she requested, not being as prepared as I wished.

“I was just going to say,” he started, probably improvising, “that you look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you (!).” Cute tittering, cute covering of mouth. “Oh, I was going to check out *Whitson* tonight,” she realized. “*Sorry*.”

“Kind of your double, I’m assuming.”

“Kind of,” she agreed. “Um… uh…”

“Well,” he decided to insert in the awkward pause. “Baker Bloch still has ties to Lower Austra, *roots*, even.”

“In Squared Root City here, yes,” she said, remembering some of her lines now thanks to the prompt. Not all, but perhaps enough to get by if she can fill in the rest with filler.

“Zero Club.” He glanced over his shoulder at the sign; another prompt. “Just like Baker was looking for. A place Baker, the male one, could Zero Out and reset everything.”

“Good to know.” She was struggling. The Whitson gaffe threw her off her game. She decides to end the scene and do some research.

—–

“I’m going into space again,” she said after learning she was. Thanks once again wikipedia! You’re a life line. “It’s a joint venture between Axiom and SpaceX.”

“So… Axis,” he responded. “Like me.”

“Wellll.”

—–

“My name is not Axis any longer. My name is Newt.”

“I know that.”

“I don’t like to be reminded of my Axis past.”

“I… won’t say anything more about it, won’t bring it up.” She cleared her throat. The research got her into hot water (!). She said his new name to reinforce her conviction. “Newt, yes I like it.” She recalled a tree growing out of his head instead of the other place. She realized she had to part with Whitson on this, Mars or no Mars. She had to choose… well pump over spaceship.

(to be continued)

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May 2, 2022 · 8:52 am

leaving role play

“Hold on hold on, I’m going to call my bro — it’s always fun, he he.”

“Oh boy,” Spencer says between sips, knowing the story. Wanda Betty whispers to Spencer: “What *wrong* with him?”

—–

“No, where are *you*?”

What’s wrong with him is that he’s in two places at once when he’s… but you should know the story too by now.

Meanwhile:

She’s heading to Airtol Hill. She’s heading to Airtol Hill?!

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May 2, 2022 · 7:50 am

Policeman Blue Jay

A plane crashed into Squared Root City today at 0800 AM. No one was hurt, but those who were aware took it as a sign that the character Eyela shouldn’t be renting an apartment or house in town and that she would be “crashing” the party (role play) if so. Direct link: both are Demos, as we know when making that famous tuft of purple hair transparent. No 3rd eye under there, no 3-d Venus either. Sloow and easy, they decided.

Meanwhile:

“I am ready to serve again, 3-d Venus. Just get me out of this heavenly yet heavily primmed place.”

“Done,” the great being ruled. “Done,” echoed the even greater or at least taller being behind her — Wanda, I think — adding, “we’ll come too.” They must be sick of it as well.

Blue Rose Thorn aka Jeffrie Phillips jumps out of the plane.

That was easy, he-as-she thinks when landing safely instead of smashing to the ground, becoming a type of plane him-herself. Now to steal one of these cars.

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May 1, 2022 · 8:45 am

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“I remember seeing you from above, just before Jeffrie’s untimely…”

“… death,” she finished for him. Wendy had gotten over it better than even Axis-Windmill. And she was the bride(!).

Axis-Windmill continued. “You called me Newt back there — when you were still Eyela.”

“That’s your name isn’t it?”

Axis-Windmill thought back again. Beyond the vision of Jeffrie Phillips and Wendy Wheeler on Corton, the Queen and King of Our Second Lyfe truly. Controller of those creatures she was after that. They had a whole encyclopedia on them now, the ones in the right. Wendy Wheeler: in the wrong by then.

“Welll?” she prompted, seeing the space in his steely grey eyes. Time for a reality check.

“Newt,” he tested. The word sounded right: why not. Zero Club, Vim and Vigor, *Energy*… Newt. Short for Newton, as in Helmet.

We have reached the point of no return. Oily way.

“GERONIMOOOOOO!” he thought he recalled. *SPLAT* he definitely remembered.

Who leaped off the cliffs at Corton to their untimely death on the rocks below? Is it still Jeffrie Phillips? Yet he is back thanks to renewing the vows with Wendy Wheeler. How did that work?

And where is he now if not dead (again)?

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April 30, 2022 · 4:40 pm

Zero Club (away from bar (shapeshifter))

“I recall the first time I saw you, your (one good) eye. Staring out between Moon and Saturn standing on a piano with Sun while a man with a moth on his back climbed a blood red picture behind you, using your huge ponytail to get a boost.”

“It’s not *that* huge,” she retorted.

He continued. “They said she would never be invited again to one of these get-togethers since she brought so many friends and acquaintances with her. But 3-d Venus is alive and well, still with her many fans following her around like packs of wild dogs and cats.”

“In the flesh (!).” She indicated herself, her body. What else was different about her, he wondered.

He went on. “You lived in a house much like our user, front covered in wisteria as if in a protecting fence or wall. You designed the moat to surround a castle but then had second thoughts of leaving bucolic life; castle too large to properly fit on (your) island. Stymie, husband at the time — stymied still how he could have ever goofed up on a looker like you! –”

Cute tittering; cute covering of mouth.

“…was most often away exploring Viterbo, finding relics in the ruins. Then one particular relic ruined it for you; he had to move on, *you* had to move. And so on to another Rim Island, taking the house with you and adding another husband to replace the subtracted first: Jacob, 1/2 man 1/2 alien in this case, with 2 normal eyes below a united third. You?”

“Me,” she decided to say. “Pure bred. One single eye and no normal eyes atall, they said. But that was wrong. I just covered one up, the bad one. Clockwork now.” She indicated the spinning, geared wheel on her face, very fashionable, very retro future. She pointed to both eyes at once now. “Two, you see, just like you.”

“What’s under that tuft of hair?” he said, still doubting her and tempted to reach over and lift it to see for himself. Maybe then he would know if she was happier with Stymie or Jacob.

She changed as she revealed the truth.

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April 28, 2022 · 10:05 pm

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He waits between hot and cold, choosing hot himself and currently enjoying a mustard and ketchup laden dog of such temperature before customers show up for the midday “rush” — not much of a rush actually but he’s not much of a worker these days, being technically retired and a bona fide Whitehead in Da Woods.

The Mustard Ketchup Kid plays soccer in a nearby field with his sister Ventura, who hails from California. She channels her energy in order to attempt to get the ball past Bert (actual name), but all this is just more code.

Squared Root City is expanding across Highway 13-14 into the sim to the north. Still exciting times for the burg. We hold out hope that it can replace Collagesity-Fordham as proper capital of Lower Austra. Because the latter is probably going away and is, anyway, too small for the role, being only a little over 1/8th of a sim in size. Squared Root Cy is, in contrast, about a sim and a 1/2 in area now.

That’s why the Axis-Windmill character is back. He waits in the Zero Club at the beginning of it all — just before the beginning, some say — for another important character that has chosen to resurface in these here blog-novels to match the new energy. Vim, some call her; others: Vigor (that’s actually her sister, maybe a twin). She counts her Mississippi’s in anticipation of the manifestation. One Mississippi, Two… wait, she forgot something. Newt! At the Zero!

“Hi baby doll.”

He turns. “Eyela?? Wasn’t expecting *you*.”

“No one is,” she speaks truthfully and, after adjusting the strap of her new clockwork eyepatch to better match her face, takes a seat beside him at the bar. Both now turn away from the camera and speak privately. We try to listen in but only catch a couple of words like Geronimo, Slick, Olive, and Oklahoma. We gather an oil spill in Indian territory of the panhandle state may be involved but could be mistaken. Let’s back up and move in closer. We’re the bartender. Let’s call him Jim. Tom, actually, only 3 feet away. Close enough to properly record. We ask if they need a drink to be more legitimate seeming. They refuse. We move away but not too much — should be OK. And… PRESS.

“I’m glad we could mustard enough energy to catch up,” she began, which was code for “very important information to follow.”

“Spill,” he requested, and she did. We were right. Kind of.

(to be continued)

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December 29, 2021 · 10:37 pm

01-

On a tip from someone in Squared Root City, she decided to confront them, this bigoted “Annaberg” audience, in a private public post. “Who are you!?” they cried from their respective positions after she had assumed not quite front and center stage but a viewing nonetheless. “A witch?! What bedevilment is this??!!” They studied her from their angles in the half darkness. Since red was involved, some of them wondered if this was the ancient hagg Morgan returned to them, who also goes by Morgaine and other similar words. They shuddered at the thought. They’d all read the legends, good and bad.

She realized they wouldn’t recognize her — in the present — without her beret on. She changed/she turned. The light on her face increased, emphasizing it over the rest. “You!!??” they cried even louder, seeing before them now the white woman associated with raspberries who loves black. “What *is* this??!!” they demanded.

“I am presenting myself to you as I am. One who has been tested for alien powers and abilities. One who is indeed part alien, as witnessed by my pink-ish skin, at least in comparison to you lot. One who has a vertical and a horizontal line up top. One who has a cylinder at the bottom, several in fact. One who has the colorful markings of a modern, because I am also that. I have fish, I have butterflies, I have hearts, I have writing, I have rings and stars, I have designs of odd origin. I am… me.”

This *is* Morgan, some had determined, since the red remained in the lone shoe on her feet, the left and not the right. And they were not wrong.

One also being tested dared to approach her through the mistletoed entrance with luckily a Julia and not a Julian, or else all would be too upset to continue watching and return home to view current black and white reruns of “I Love Lucifer” and such. They danced in complete sync as if on a granite hilltop between two sims. Then the N was regained and all went to hell. The bell was back.

“Let’s meet at your place instead,” past Hucka Doobie determined.

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December 29, 2021 · 9:23 am

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It was merely a black and white picture of an unknown town with one somewhat colorful tree. But then it came to life and we were somewhere else. Hermanly again, I would assume.

Yes: Hermanly. Axis-Windmill, who may be the same as Helmet Newton, tries to ignore the increasingly busier burg, knowing he could get sucked into the picture. Like Baker Bloch before him. I mean: Jeffrey Phillips. Man About Time panicked at being thrust into a leadership role, even though he desired it forever. He had to find Baker Bloch (!), but when he did he’d forgotten how he got there and how to get back home. He pointed aimlessly, trying to get his bearings, just like we saw Alysha scramble with in Squared Root City just a minute ago. Alysha had decided to seal off the black and white city in its own little room, handy if needed, but not viewable at any one time. Out of sight out of mind for the most part. Until Helmet was mentioned. It was time for Axis-Windmill to acquire a proper non-hyphenated name. We’ve tried out Brend but then that went to another character — two characters actually, twins, one blue and black and the other red and white. Perhaps live in this same city, even. But Axis-Windmill is not Brend.

The sound of horseless carriages was deafening.

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