Category Archives: Wallytown/Fishers Island^

burning

“New Island, Rocky; Mid Hazel’s place to the right. If you cross that bridge, go down that road, you may never come back.”

“I hear ya, sister. Let’s go back to the night club. *Our* night club now. No renting any more. Don’t dwell on all this bad stuff. Turn your back on it. Literally… turn around.”

So Tronesisia takes Rocky’s advice and pivots away from the bridge to face full on the island that is truly home now. Her new New Island. Or at least Fisher’s.

She has become mobile again and will not return.

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transference

“Yes, thank you Penn Mann. But we kind of already *knew* where the mound was on this sim map.” Waste of thin space he sometimes is, she thought to herself, but only huffed outwardly.

Embarrassed, Penn Mann moved away from the map and propped himself back up against the wall beside Dr. I.C. Yourinsides. After considering the next step, he thought into their heads again. “Give me your idea of how Tronesisia — Sissy — and this Rocky being I hadn’t met until yesterday’s rehearsals — fine fellow, though — tell me how they knew about Billy’s secret hideout. Any clues?”

“We don’t *need* clues, Penn Mann. Mr. Director.” Dr. I.C. blew out air again. “It *happened*. Tronesisia and Rocky noticed that there were 3 extra prims on the property the other day. They’re very meticulous about counting, since they leave full building permissions on that property for the various entertainers passing through. They used remote viewing to pretty quickly find the cube, the most solid and rounded of the 3, just under the floor of the nightclub. This led (them) to the other two objects linked to the cube — the copy of ‘I, Robot’ by another Carter person apparently [sic], and then the Jimmy Carter cutout that represents Billy’s *real* brother, or what he takes to be his real brother anyway. It’s all brainwashery, though: the alien disguise, everything. He’s really human through and through in this production. But he’s not really a he.”


“So it *is* you.”

Penn Mann considered this as well. “What about the public urination, then, the pissing with the [delete name]? And Mr. Yellow. Or Yellows, 2 of ’em. He drank the special brew, but is then discovered pissing it back out at that public landing spot for Wallytown, all out in the open and all. But it takes two Mr. Yellows, combined, to accomplish this. What does that mean?”

Dr. I.C. threw up her hands, then figuratively punted. “You take it Spocari Nemoy.”

“Captain,” admonished Nemoy. “Use the title when speaking to me in this war room. I outrank you.”

Dr. I.C. blew him a raspberry with this. “Go ahead then, *Captain*. Give our Director Mann a dose of some more truth. He wants fiction, we give him reality back.” She turned to Penn Mann again. “All this *happened* to us — get that through your thin, ink filled head.” She looked him over. “Which side is your head anyways?”

“Biker Chick,” went Penn Mann on a tangent again in their heads. He had this in common with his Urbane Blue director doppleganger: Eraserhead Man. Without eyes, without mouth, he turned his attention to the black and pink clad woman sitting beside Nemoy, who was markedly leaning in the opposite direction from her, obviously uncomfortable with her presence here. “We seem to need a fresh perspective on this,” Penn Mann thought. “Give us what you think.”

Dr. I.C. Yourinsides spoke up again. “Biker Chick doesn’t know anything; she has just arrived.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Penn Mann inside their heads. “I am *still* the director of the production, despite what you may think, Good Doctor.”

“Oh Lord,” she exasperated. “Go ahead, then, Biker-Chick-still-not-even-with-a-name-yet. Tell us what you got.”

“Heidi,” she piped up in a thin voice after a pause. “My name is Heidi.” But Nemoy and Yourinsides both realized it was actually Penn Mann speaking *through* this person. She looks down at her hands, wiggles them around. She reaches up and touches her face, her eyes, her mouth.

And then she touches something else. “How do you like *these* apples?”

Spocari Nemoy started to feel red-blooded again. This is what he didn’t like about biker chicks, among many other things. But this above all else. What would Marlon Brando do? he thinks for not the first nor last time.

He makes a mental note to schedule another regeneration session with Lt. Gunnhead asap.

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no brainer

“Ground Zero, my friend,” spoke Philip over the music. “Ground Zero.”

Staring at the Jack Daniels whiskey bottle in front of him, Marion nodded.

“Over the Rainbow” and “On the Run” combined.

—–

That last track was simply beautiful, Tronesisia. It’s as if Judy Garland came back from the dead and took the mic again.”

“Thank you. My friends call me Sissy. Please. Call me Sissy.” She winked her robotic blue eye seductively at Philip Strevor. Then she did the same to Marion Harding seated beside him, except with the other eye. Two blue eyes.

“And your Pink Floyd rendition, Rocky. What can I say but wowzers. Wowzers! You both are so great.”

“We appreciate it,” chipped in bass voiced Rocky Rocco, who hasn’t been seen since way back in Collagesity novel 6. “I had an excellent teacher for that one.”

Tronesisa nodded in agreement. “Excellent indeed.”

Rocky leans over and pats Tronesisia’s silver knee. “And you too, dear.”

Tronesisia suddenly gets a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “It is so, it is so.”

“Sooo… let’s get down to business.” Unglueing his gaze from the bottle still in front of him, Marion Harding opens the briefcase full of money.

“L$50,000,” said Philip without looking. “It’s all we have right now.”

“That will do,” returned Tronesisia.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” agreed Rocky quickly. Tronesisia and Rocky steal a winning glance at each other.

—–

“He’s in here.”

“God I hate spiders, Marion. You go first.”

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blue bloods

“This is the human who is looking for me, Spocari. Yet he has changed now. Drastically. We have *both* changed.”

“And you say this is your *brother*? How does *that* work?”

“He *was* my brother. As I said, we have both changed — drastically. This place, this town, has changed us both. Made us into monsters. In lemony times we use to rule together at the top of the mound. That’s where I became addicted to my special brew, the stuff that saves me down here. As one of the top dogs, or at least sidekick to the head honcho, I was afforded my own drink. My brother backed me up, didn’t leave my side even though I embarrassed him again and again. I even *pissed* my special brew in public, Spocari. Mr. Yellow they called me after that incident. At least down here.”

Dr. Spocari Nemoy spoke into his head microphone which also acted as a recorder currently. “Are you getting all this up there, Picard?” A confession he was receiving, in essence.

“Sure. But who’s the brother?” spoke Chief Communication Officer Picard in his ear. “Get the brother’s name. We think it’s Jimmy but just want to check.”

“He’ll come after me,” continued Billy. “He’s changed,” he reinforced. “Nothing like he was. This place, this town changes you.” He then looks Spocari over real good, wondering what *he* was before.

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Billies

“I’d like to hire you for a job Detective Strevor. I’m looking for my brother. Billy.”

What a peculiar thing, thinks Philip Strevor before answering. *I’m* looking for a Billy.

“I’ll take the case.”

—–

“Got a job today, Marion. Looking for *Billy*.”

Marion Harding stared at the tv screen a bit. Then: “*Our* Billy?”

“Dunno.” Philip Strevor shifted his weight on the couch. “Go ahead and hit unpause. Just wanted to tell you that before we got into the whole atomic bomb thing.”

“Have to think about that one.”

“Yep. Sure will. Find out soon enough, I suppose. If I can find him.”

“Her,” Marion Harding corrected. He picked up the remote.

“Yup.”

The explosion continued.

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Billy

“No dancing today?” queried the disappointed Spocari.

“Later on in the afternoon, yeah,” gruffed Natali, awkward in motion when out of character but silky smooth as Molly Lustrous, Queen of Dance. Queen of Lemony Past, she also became as that character. But Natali didn’t know so much. Natali only knew there were secret passages underneath Bar Lemon that needed to be explored today; needed to be shown to this deep, level voiced alien-man who was more attractive to Molly than herself. Molly felt he was in danger of tilting toward the wrong side (Orange?), thus gave control over to Natali this morning. “Just in here,” she beckoned at the web covered entrance of the sewer tunnel. “Follow me.”

—–

“Errm, okay. Another dead Grey. So what?”

“No.”

“No? Looks Grey to me.”

“*No*… look.”

The large headed alien on the bed began to stir, sat up. He looked around nervously, then relaxed.

“Ahh, Natali. So I’m still not discovered, phew.” He wipes his substantial forehead of some developed perspiration. “Bring any of my special beer brew down here from the bar by chance? Because I’m *out* of it.”

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any red-blooded man could succumb

“So this is supposed to be some kind of re-creation of the Nehi Indians’ Bottle Town,” grumbled Captain Spocari Nemoy, standing on the edge of the sim and staring across a shallow bay — perhaps another, larger borrow pit even — toward Wallytown’s main beach. “I doubt it, but I have to examine all angles before the Great Descent. Orange versus Purple.”

He checks his watch on his laser weaponed arm. “10:00am: better get over to Bar Lemon and talk to Natali or, ahem, Molly Lustrous again about all this,” he continued talking to himself. “I of course have to filter what she says through my radical logic, but the babe’s a total fount of information, lemony past and all. Plus I kind of like watching her dance; must appeal to my human side.” But he better watch that, else the green blood immunity might be negated.


Active members of Nehi’s Orange Tribe ascending the mound in lemony past.

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New Post

Bendy enjoyed his new job as receptionist for the spaceship that Dr. I.C. Yourinsides and Capt. Spocari Nemoy and others worked in. The latter passed through every morning on his way down to Wallytown and the surface, and also passed by around 6:00, 6:30 in the evening when he returned. Bendy had only seen Dr. I.C. once so far — no real need for her to descend to this lowest deck (with the highest number, though: 15) since she is still unable to go groundside because of the continuing effects of the New Island radiation, even though they are no longer that near New Island. Fisher or Fishers Island is their home now. Their New Home. As stated previously, Spocari’s saving grace in this respect is his not-red-but-green blood.

From his switchboard console, Bendy had access to *some* of the ship’s information and history. It was that Bottle Mound in Alabama which made all this possible — and necessary. The two dead Greys at *Wallytown’s* mound (of similar height — a doppleganger mound, in effect) are not really dead, nor Greys. Hector and Lewis, and also likewise deceased Gerry slumping against an interior wall, didn’t really exist. Something else was going on. That’s why they haven’t been buried. They are merely “signs”.

Former receptionist Willard Picard had just moved to Chicago in the Real World to work at a newspaper, father Justin’s dream of the young man eventually succeeding him as the ship’s Chief Communication Officer be damned. Thus the reason the post was vacated when Bendy teleported up and then met a surprised Cpt. Nemoy about a week back. “It is not logical that you sit there in Willard’s place,” you might recall him saying at the time while training several guns on his head.

The robot reports on Wallytown were blocked to Bendy. No possibility of getting the scoop on Tronesisia, then — for now. Just the info about the Alabama Bottle Mound and attached Nehi Indians, as well as histories of the ship’s crew such as Nemoy, Yourinsides, and Picard (both of ’em). The ship was called Cuthand (CU-than), after both a witch and a wizard who either were married or siblings; Bendy couldn’t conclusively conclude from the information at hand.

(to be continued)

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BOTTLE

“I was able to pull the interwebs up this time, Baker — Pitch! I just had to set my group to Blue Feather. Wrong group before — too much shopping for clothes, I suppose.” She laughs a bit.

“Right. Getting right to it, this is Fisher Island, Alabama in front of us, Bill slash Wheeler. In an alphalist of islands named Fisher in our user’s US of A…”

“Soon to be destroyed,” interrupted Wheeler Bill.

“Well, let’s not rush it.” Baker Pitch continued. “Our Fisher Island in Wisconsin next to one of only 2 New Islands — and we’ve identified some oddities involving that *second* New Island, in Georgia…”

“Which we won’t get to tonight. Go on…”

“In an alphalist of islands named Fisher, this Fisher Island, Wisconsin comes last. But if we *rotate* back to the first of the list, Fisher Island, Alabama would be next.”

“Okay.”

“Notice on this map, Fisher Island (Alabama) is quite bigger than the one in Wisconsin. We now think this could be an *evolution* of the energy of Fisher Island, even further beyond New Island now. Wisconsin was a base to talk about the transfer from one to the other. But here in Alabama we have what seems to be the true center of the energy.”

“Alright. When are we going to talk about the mounds?”

In a minute, Bill.”

“Okay, Pitch.”

“The first thing we need to do to prove this is to *expand* our idea of Fisher Island here. Below the actual Fisher Island, on the much larger island in the Mobile Bay delta containing the mounds you just mentioned, there is a Fisher Lake, and also  a *Lower* Fisher Lake. Together they form a kind of loose diagonal running across the larger island — with the mounds again. The concept of Fisher seems to be expanded or inflated to cover the entirety of the larger island. And we can prove this by noting some anomalies between this larger island and the Fisher’s Island in Our Second Lyfe, namely the abrupt discoloration of the surrounding river on the western side, and also the matching curves of not only the western rivers in each case, but also that internal river running from Mifflin Lake on the Alabama side — quite obvious, really, if you study it. You can see that as we switch to satellite view of the island.”

“Let’s skip that, Pitch. I know what you’re talking about. To me — and I’m *still* the most important one to convince — Fisher Island has expanded to become the larger island with the mounds. Next topic please.”

“Well, just moving a bit southwest of this officially expanded Fisher’s Island, on the Mobile County side of Mobile Bay, we have a population place named Axis — only one in US — and then just below that, a Pennsylvania — again, only one in the US of A, besides the state of Pennsylvania. But that is a state and not a town.”

“I know the difference.”

“Now remember, Axis asked Eraserhead Man for the fire demon Gus in (Collagesity) novel 9 so that he could make his High Castle *mobile*. And, expanding again, we can see he became even more mobile and moved from New Island to Fisher Island, perhaps much to his surprise. He went groundside again, wasn’t harmed like the other biological agents in the spaceship (already there), and located Ruby in her democratic empire just east of Meat City, changing into Tin Tin for disguise. But I think that whole subplot has gone haywire, Bill. Interference by Gwin, who is the same as Jill MacGill in Eraserhead Man’s Urbane Blue production.”

“You’re making my head hurt again, Pitch. The proximity of this expanded Fisher Island in Alabama to Axis and Pennyslvania is beyond chance, yes. Axis becomes Mobile through Pennsylvania — which is Eraserhead Man because of all the Twin Peaks stuff in that state.”

“Pennsylvania. Not Alabama.”

“Yes.”

“Plus — he’s a pencil. That’s his nickname too: Pencil. Like Pennsyl(vania).”

“Right.”

“So,” continues Bill. “Eraserhead Man — Pennsylvania — gives Axis Gus so that the latter can become Mobile — in his High Castle –”

“Yes.”

“And this mobility eventually lands him beyond New Island onto Fisher Island.”

“We should end with a picture of the mounds — dominated by one large mound, just like *our* Fisher Island. These are in the northwest corner of the expanded Fisher Island, Alabama.”

(to be continued)

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New Fisher Island

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