“Done in by (the Nautilus continent region known as) the Wild West,” thought Can, drinking from a bottle inside the dresser that was his Dream while glancing left at the dangly orange legs that match her eyes. “*Not* a witch,” she begged just before the ironic crushing. Of *course* she was a witch. Just like…
… oh no, he thought in a panic, position suddenly reversed from before. NOT a witch. A decent person overall. Just…..
….. separate.
What has he *done*???
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0409, Jeogeot, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Newtown, Wild West
We use ART to discover who the true stabber is.
—–
“Oh Gregg Oden my opposite evil evil green twin! What have you done what have you DONE?!
“Hello 119? I mean 911! I’d like to report an accident. A horrible horrible accident!”
“Calm down, sir,” said Gertrude on the other side. “Just tell me what happened.”
“Stabbing. STAB!” Greg Ogden’s imaginary Juho art studio conveniently located on Makers Lane with door always slightly ajar come to life, as it were. As it *is*. He looks down at the body, quickly bleeding out. Not much time!
“Okay, I’ve tracked your location. We’ll send Charlie and Peet right over. Don’t leave the scene, sir!”
Then he was back at the beginning, painting Black Lake that wasn’t actually black except in soul. Should’ve never switched over to oils.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0046, 0609, Chilbo^, collages 2d, Crisp Sea, Jeogeot, Juho, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Nawt Vaya, Starfield, Wild West
“I still have a home on Nautilus. It was a retirement gift — very pretty there. Lots of vegetation.”
Dr. Rabbid Baumbeer, still dealing primarily with bodily fluids but hoping to graduate to full blown psychiatry soon, looked at his e-machine and gauged this was true. “Describe… gift,” he decided to say.
It was the end of 31 and it was the end, period. March 1 of last year, 12:01 AM we’ll say. Eddie D’Aigle, who sometimes preferred D’Aigle, Eddie, especially if he was traveling in the Orient, had just retired from the private sector of the records management business, having made his fortune archiving the files of rock stars Ozzie Osbourne, Ozmo Daredevils, and the like. His last blog article for the latter, the last he did overall, was about how the song “Jackie Blue” was changed from “Jackie Pink,” which drew the attention of Pink, Marsha, Krakow. He had the evidence before him as he wrote: the altered lyrics, everything. “It was suppose to be about a man who peddled drugs during the day while working nights as a bartender, a very Dada affair,” he reinforced to her in a reply email, then, seeing her avid interest, invited her up to [Blue Mountain] to look at the actual, revised lyrics herself. “Come with your driver’s license or a birth certificate,” he said, “and our staff will bring the whole box out to you; I’ll put it on reserve and not reshelve. You can look at one file at a time, and just mark what you want copied with green (START) and red (STOP) paper we’ll provide.” She ended up photocopying the whole box. New 3d scanner the office just purchased did the trick in a 10th the time it would have taken the old fashioned way. Marsha’s, in fact, was the first request accomplished using that method. Boxy Marsha, she went down in office legend as. Prototype. Especially since Eddie, on his last day of work, helped her tote the (wrong?) box to her still hot pink car, soon to change to yellow. Thanks to what was inside. In many ways, she became the box she requested, a black and white facsimile of herself.
“Your orange-ish hair… so pretty.” He couldn’t help but run his fingers through the semi-transparent ponytail to test its texture.
“Well thanks I guess Al Orange,” she replied, regretting that she sat so close to him now. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Before she realized this was just another one of those mannequins — they all were. No information here to retrieve. And she needed info. So she could get the heck out of Dodge.
“Yes, you’re so pretty overall,” spoke over Dafney Duck, a quack at the doctoring business. Two kneecap replacements just last week. And only none of them needed it. “Why don’t you put on a bathing suit and really, truly join in with us. I have an extra back in the boat, I believe.”
“I *don’t* *do* bathing suits,” she spoke firmly, leaning back and edging away from creepy Al, short for Alvin she assumed. “Not since…” She cut herself off. Couldn’t talk about Mountain Lake yet. Or her actual mother still mayor back in Meat City. But she certainly wasn’t ready to go back to prison. Thus: here.
The host of the party sitting directly behind her — Sandy Hook — then said something. Bitterly. “I wonder if *Edward*… would like to see you in one of those.” Who was this really? Marsha “Pink” Krakow still? Or…
“Coke is real,” uttered the last person at the hot tub, the 6th of 6. Friends? Not really. But the appellation still applied.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0040, 0511, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Upper Austra^, Wild West
He peered out between eaters, afraid he’d become part of a sandwich.
——
“I wanted to show you this place,” she spoke down to fellow climber Shelley (kid), “because I believe in your unique power, coming from the outside so soon before and all.”
“There,” she said at the top, standing beside the 3 that hide a 4th. “Can you see?”
“See what?” spoke Shelley, also leaping off.
“Precisely. Mean mad mustard,” Marsha uttered cryptically and then urged the younger girl to stand in her spot while moving over a bit.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0603, Nautilus, Retirement Islands, River, Wild West
In the TILE Church of Neptune, she read from the good book of Matthew, by memory of course, since she was married to the lout.
“And yea, some say he came from the North to fabled Constantynople, like a slut on a horse in the water. Some say from the South, like a pole cat, slithering along inside the night sky like a dove or train. To those who say East or West we abhor you, ignore you, blank you in the streets, hold you contemptible in court. There is only FILE… not rank. I do not even capitalize a single letter of the latter, yet the former is shouted from the streets, the towns, the continents, the whole world. Even if, yea, it is only 31 sims of length in an up and down manner. The 32 was lopped off, like an early retirement. We pray to gods for the time to make up for it and, yea, the gods deliver.”
“She’s in good form tonight,” said Sally Spear to Sarah Shake one row down from the front to make it an even 6, counting the 4 filled on the other side of the aisle. It was bad luck to sit in the 7th, which represented the missing sim. “Keep a gap between you and the gods,” Suzanna Oh 2345 said another time (paraphrasing). Like the good and great and wonderful letters of our TILE have gaps between them to protect the singular entity, some 1 and some 2. To those who say 3 or any other number we abhor you.” (etc.)
Like Laura and Clemenesta behind them, they were staying at the Foxy so-as to be close to church and emergency worship sessions, etc. Because definitely their soul needed to be saved, they felt. Jesus let them down — was cut off — because he and his clan were missing the 4th, the yellow some say, others: green. The 4th is the shadow, the thing not wanted to be dealt with. Yet all 4 embraced it; began having private TILE meetings in the old Video Days Rental building where it all started, over in the Black Diamond part of town. Never mind that the place now sells tattoos. Definitely part of the magic! 100 lindens per week rent well spent, especially split between the lot of ’em. A secret door connected the 2 parts.
Then one day the door went away and Laura and Clemenesta were alone, no robots around. It was just them all along; they had awoken as if from a dream. Newton.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0310, Black Ice, Constantynople, Jeogeot, Lands End, Nautilus, Neptune, NORTH, NWES Island^, Rank & File, Wild West
“I’m looking for information on Ted Bear, his current whereabouts,” spoke Suzanna Oh 2345 out of the side of her mouth which she didn’t possess. The little robot at the bar looked knowledgeable. And, most importantly, one of her kind. He probably wasn’t stationed here like that, at a centerpoint of gossip, for nuttin. He had dirt. Spill, she requested after sliding up beside him… or her, actually. Molly OU812. Make me at least one small mound at the bottom of a hill. Bigger than ant size, maybe anteater size. Something I can really dig into. But most of this was implied.
“Ted Bear. Just checking…” the smaller robot sputtered out.
“He use to own a small island in this sim. Say: islet.”
“Islet,” the small robot complied, still checking her database with a corresponding lowering of surface functions.
“No, I mean, let’s call it an islet. Very small.”
“Smaller than… me?” Still checking behind the scenes.
“No. Ted Bear is bigger than you so that does not compute.”
“You?”
“No, you. Ted Bear is bigger than you.”
“You?”
Pause. “Oh, sizes right. I’d say between me and you. Teddy bear size, but to the max.”
“Fit (still checking) into a 3 by 3 foot box?” She was just making chit chat really at this point while computing deep down, where it counts. 02345 x 812 files counted now. Only 812 to… *done*.
“3 x 3 box,” Oh 2345 pondered aloud, but then OU812 interrupted.
“I have all the information needed. You can stop talking now while I do. Ted Bear lived here from 2020-2022 on an 20 x 22 foot islet near the center of Moomit Bay. Conditions for entering: you had to bare something, could be a small article of clothing, could be all of them. Ted Bear was clinically insane. He was quarantined. I will pause now to let you ask questions if you wish. I have all the information.”
Suzanna Oh 2345 looked around. The music was blaring — no one else could hear them. No one even at the bar presently, not even a tender. Must be on break, perhaps a big bathroom one. With her supersonic ears Suzanna detected several flushes earlier and some other noises. An upset stomach could be the problem. The tender could have, yes, tended himself, imbibed himself, didn’t cut off himself at the limit normally assigned to others. He wasn’t a good tender to himself.
OU812 waited patiently, hearing the whirring of Suzanna Oh 2345’s inner workings indicating she was thinking. Suzanna Oh’s thoughts shifted to a question, changing the sound slightly, raising it up an overall pitch or two. More focused thinking here.
“Baker Bloch, the owner of the blog–”
“Yes,” anticipated OU812. “He was there. Took off his hat so he could enter. Wheeler Wilson or Wilson Wheeler too. She had to take off more. Ted Bear set up an islet next to his islet so that Baker Bloch could be with him forever and ever. He turned into a bobblehead, top making up 9/16ths of his body’s total mass. But then he was saved.” OU812 stopped here, calculating the many possible meanings of that word. Backed up? No, that wasn’t it.
“Describe the interaction with Wheeler Wilson more,” Suzanna Oh 2345 requested.
(to be continued)
“You already have *7*. And you want to buy more??”
“Just one, Sweetie Pie. A slither of a craft. Minnow it’s called.”
“It won’t fit. It won’t fit! Especially since you bought that jetski last month. Close the blinds, hmph. I don’t want to see them any more for a while; I want to be *blinded* to them for a while.”
“As you wish.”
And so begins the solo journey of Robert Matthew or Matthew Robert in the 8th, purchased the next day despite the wife’s protests. Intending only to take a 3 hour or so “spite” cruise, it ended up being for the rest of his natural life, which was practically infinite in scope and length. This, early on actually, really really early, brought him to Constantynople in his new “fishing vessel”.
“Where am I?” he exclaimed after landing softly on the sandy shore of the place. “I’ve got to find the person in charge!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0308, Constantynople, Lands End, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West
It’s a very blue place, she thinks. 10:01 AM. Yet she stares.
Wonder why Myrtle doesn’t like linden plants? she ponders. I’ve *always* liked linden plants. Maybe the only one she respects, the branchy winter tree with no leaves, is my *least* favorite, hmph.
Someone else should be with me here in this lonely spot, she ruminates. Someone else blue.
She suddenly has the urge to get up and dance. Must be the costume. And the place.
—–
“I see plumeria over there,” she spoke later to rail sitting Edward, her chosen beau for the day. She’d changed into something safer, something non-dancey, urge abated. “I see palm tree no. 1, palm tree no. 2. And then a cypress tree 1 just up the hill. What’s not to love?”
“Different strokes for different folks,” Edward offered to Shelley’s continued rant. She just couldn’t get the logic of Myrtle’s opinion.
“Very regimented. *No* chaos. No mention of mainlands. What a mess! she might exclaim. Yet… she’s there. On Constance.”
“*You* put her there. Even gave her that weird belly button, the on and off thing.”
“The Abyss must be a key. That’s where we meet, her and me. That’s where I can tell her off if she doesn’t friend me.”
“Drop it,” urges Edward to the girl, perhaps the love of his life. If Wanda doesn’t enter the picture again. “Let it go.”
“The *island* is all about that merger.” But as she spoke this, she began to doubt her words. It was more than just that.
—–
The next day Shelley replaced Edward with Arthur in the sim of Escanes and they studied the illegal TILE treatises of Bart and Lisa in a sand covered underwater room directly beneath a false island planted with those plumeria and palms, thinking their actions there were unexposed to the prying eyes of superiors on the FILE. They weren’t; didn’t call them that for nutt’n.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0101, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
“So here it is, Hucka. The FILE. 32 sims lined up in a row — column, actually — running all the way across the 32 x 32 sim grid designated as the Nautilus continent. But I believe you’re going to tell me we should count starting at the bottom this time.
(no answer)
“FILE, Hucka Doobie (Baker Bloch continued). You’re going to tell me this is a 32 page file, one for each of the inclusive sims. 1-16, part 1 of 2 as it were, ends in Constance. 17-32 ends with a blank page, a missing piece of the file. The 32nd page is either missing or blank (he reinforces). Here’s the primary link for this idea: The page for (the sim of) Ten Pages is 10 pages into the hypothetical report, again reading from the bottom up instead of top down. The 9th page then would be READux. This conjunction seems to emphasize that we’re suppose to read the pages of the file in order to understand the content. Obvious.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0613, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File, Rim Isles, Southwestern, Wild West
Sunklands 