Category Archives: VHC City^

abduction

We do not purport to know what’s really going on at this French rr station with its blurring of time.

But could it be something to do with, for example, *this*?

Out on the platform, people walk one way…

… then mysteriously switch directions for the next shot.

A man appears just in this one photographed panorama and then vanishes. The logical answer is that this is the cameraman himself. Why the similar jacket and shirt to the other man here, though? Is it just chance; did they think this resonance funny and thus the jumping out of 1st person perspective and into the photo? Why at *this* station of all places? The Center of the Universe.

At the end of the camera’s journey on the platform, time is different in the mirror…

… from reality.

For the ultimate answers we may have to look upwards.

https://bakerbloch.com/2017/05/09/52988/

“She’ll get back here,” he said. “Go ahead… continue.”

As Baker spoke, the rest of the “Wall of Ass.” disappeared behind him, leaving Dali’s paintings alone in the apartment.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0022, 0111, Europe, VHC City^

Lord’s burg

“It’s time to get a form, Summerhill Nova,” The Lord said in her head, the same one that spoke to fellow Oodite Ben Wolf, and perhaps still does (more later on that — involves the *second* Bena — we’ll see what happens). Oh, they don’t call themselves that name any longer. Christians they are now. No more underground planchette movements in the middle of the night. That can only spell TROUBLE. Weegee is no longer the key. *Visibly*.

Summerhill knew full well who the Lord was. She use to rent to him. But 20 linden dollars a month and her will to charity can only go so far. *If* he returns it will be for the regular price, the one everyone else pays that stays “x” amount of time. And it will depend on the destruction of Collagesity. Just like before. And she told him that in *his* head.

I asked her about the missing wall at the Point of It All, the one where my collage formerly hung in the underground, where The Musician became Sikul Himakt once again several years back now to translated the codes and symbols correctly. She said it was just a building mistake, corrected at one point. Didn’t have anything to do with me and my art. Oh, but I begged to differ. It has *everything* to do with it.

“When you erased that wall — those *rooms*,” I explained patiently in her head, “you changed reality. Something was let loose; something was lost.”

She asked again about Pitch Darkly so I told her the full story of what I knew up until now. She was rather shocked he was in Bena. And even the older, original house in Instabar, about as close as I could get to that summit that represents the “featured” peak of the present section.

“You’ll have another Red Pepper incident if you don’t watch out.”

She was right, I realized while spotting an avatar in the house just above it. I wisely decided to delete the structure…

… delete the structure

… delete the structure. Oh heck. I can’t do it.


Blue #3 door to Sister sim that caused Baker Bloch so much trouble when he went through it is wisely blocked now by art.

She kept pressing. “What of the name Bemberg for, er, my sim?”

I said it was an Oracle thing. Like Sikul Himakt. Like Vainom Kug. I resisted saying once more she didn’t die in Vain but in VHC City, but I did segue from that into telling her there was a Firesign Theater angle to all this, involving member Phil Austin in part. Maybe in a major part. I explained the choice of the name Melder for the sim her church was in. And next door: Fharsine. “Melder points to Elmer and the underground,” I said. “That’s why you are…”

“… white as glue?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0306, Corsica^^, Heterocera^^, Instabar, VHC City^

sisters

“Hold on Butterfingers. We’re almost there.”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0304, Heterocera^^, VHC City^

Northeast Castle

Kate McCoy always left the table to (softly) play the piano when there was after-dinner talk of war.

“Heterocera is *not* dead,” spoke Summerhill Nova to his right. “We can carry on. The Sister sim will remain strong — I’ll make sure of it my liege.”

“Good, good,” the person at the head of the table spoke. “I won’t worry any longer about that direction. I trust you with the matter.”

“Thank you.”

He turned to his left. “And you, Walter.”

“Um hmm?” The tree being’s voice was hollow and husky.

“What say your people about the matter? About the changes in VHC City?”

“As long as Bob Dylan’s okay with it we’re okay with it.”

“Alright, then”. Jack looked straight ahead.

But the CB Dylan Dresser containing the other Snow at the table didn’t immediately respond. Then they realized the Manster within had gone to the wrong dimension — again.

(to be continued?)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0111, Corsica^^, Splinterwood, VHC City^

what’s up?

There’s no doubt that the user behind virtual anarchist SaveMe Oh is some kind of artistic genius.

I have a modified version of one of her “cheese churches” sitting in Collagesity I’m still trying to wrap my brain around.

https://marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Dutch-Salvation-Church/10619689

Contemplating buying one of these from her…

https://marketplace.secondlife.com/p/SaveMe-Rothko/17301984

… also seen in full action here…

SaveMe Oh’s blog link below. An Enola Vaher related post is currently at the top of the feed. So we have that in common, since I was banned from a gallery near the Hotel Chelsea not by Enola but someone else. Maybe I can be forgiven now too (hint hint).

https://savemeoh.wordpress.com/

Me lately? Among other things, presently hopping around the many Corsica continent peaks gathering info for new stories.

https://slgi.fandom.com/wiki/Mountains_Of_Corsica

Be back soon! In the meantime, recently completed Collagesity photo-novel 17 is here:

https://bakerbloch.com/virtual/collagesity-2019-2020-winter/

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0100, Corsica^^, Heterocera^^, VHC City^

end 04

Before heading over to Kowloon, Jer Left Horn makes a stop in VHC City to pause and reflect on the recent death of the user behind longtime Virtual Hotel Chelsea manager Enola Vaher. Although I didn’t know the avatar (or user), VHC City, centered around the huge hotel, figures prominently in my mythology through, primarily, The Diagonal, which is now one (Head) of 2 (also: Heart) I’ve found spanning the Heterocera continent. I hope the hotel can carry on beyond this blow, and certainly the rental situation there continues to be healthy and, most likely, self sustaining for a while. Many musical events go on all the time there as well.


Jer Left Horn at Enola Vaher’s “Finely Torn Id” gallery in what I call VHC City.

—–

Moving on to Kowloon, Jer Left Horn decides to first stop by Fish Head’s bar to catch up with all the latest news. The first thing he notices are the bent stools in the back.

“Fight in here, Head?” he questioned while sitting down at the nearest, upright stool, becoming suspicious off the top. He had his knife at ready in the belt under his jacket just in case.

“Oh, you know. Typical Tuesday night. Some of the Queen’s gang letting off steam.”

*You’re* one of the Queen’s gang, Jer Left Horn thinks to himself. Why the separation between you and them? The hand slides down to grip the handle of the knife.

“Like who?” he tried to ask as calmly as possible. “Norton Wise Turtle?” He forced a smile here. Everyone knew the big man-turtle was a first rate troublemaker.

“Yeah, him. And, let’s see — Space Ghost!”

“*Space Ghost*?” Jer Left Horn turns left. Then: nothing for a long while.

——

He wakes up in some kind of pod swimming with shrimp, it appeared. He keeps his eyes frozen, military training snapping into action in a moment of crisis.

“You’re getting old again, Space Ghost. Better head back to the time machine,” requested likewise observing TronAxis. “The shrimp have almost extracted all the information they need.” TronAxis returns his attention to Jer Left Horn’s floating form in the cylinder: the still frozen eyes, the glazed over look. Shouldn’t be long though, now, he thinks. Is there life already in that face?

The cylinder shatters. Jer Right Horn steps out, dry as a whistle, knife ready. The shrimp flip and flop helplessly around the floor amidst the spilled yellow liquid and broken glass, task unfinished. Now old Space Ghost knows he’s no match for the young prince and hobbles away from the scene as fast as possible. TronAxis stands steady, light disk at ready. He knew of Jer Left Horn’s military background — should have taken more steps to ensure his secureness. Hindsight is golden I suppose. But this is the way it was suppose to be, he adjusted to the situation. Me versus him.

A narrow boat materializes before the fleeing Space Ghost in the middle of the pool of water just beyond the pod room: Tessa, sans her driving challenged grandpa this time but still a dreamer. And this is the aforementioned Kow Pond, also known as Loon Lake. Indeed the center of it all. Thanks to Tessa.

“Gentlemen!” she called back into the shadows behind old Space Ghost. “Set down your arms!”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0704, Heterocera^^, Kowloon, VHC City^

The B.’s

Buster Damm dared to take off a tiny bit of time from studying and scouting to bring our old friend Duncan Avocado into the picture. They sat in the same VHC City diner, in the same booth even where the original agreement was made. Duncan still wore the Pot-D heart-within-skeleton-hands pendant. Buster still knew where he was at any moment. “Sooo. Here we are, Duncan.”

“We are,” spoke Duncan plainly. He didn’t hesitate this time; he’d been around the cell block too many times in the meantime. “Whatever it is: yes.”

“Great!” Buster immediately spat in his hand and leaned forwards across the table. 5 minutes till sunrise…

—–

Duncan A. woke up in a captive position, but then stood up. No chains this time. Relief! He wipes his forehead of perspiration and looks around. Pipes. This must be Pipersville Buster talked about. He moves to the table on the far side of the room.

African-American nudie pic, he ruminates. Jim A.’s heartthrob, he understands, the thing that held *him* captive. What happened to her? he wonders, then turns. One way to find out. He ascends the stairs out of there and tries the door: unlocked. Still not a captive.

He opens the door. Music.


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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0603, Heterocera^^, Maebaleia/Satori^^, Pipersville/Sink X^, VHC City^

Race

“Stop *staring* at the man, Baker Bloch thought about Horace Wise. It’s like he’s never seen a black person before.

“So,” Duncan began, obviously conscious of the riveting gaze, “looks like we’ll have to start without our Mountain Lake representative Ms. Well.”

“A *wo*-man,” spoke Horace Wise incredulously from his side. “I think not. We already have [delete rest of sentence].”

Baker Bloch breathed deeply. Looking at him, Duncan decided to jump in first. “First of all, we’re African-*Americans*. Just like you Horace.”

Horace Wise finally broke his stare, sighed, and waved his arms around in despair. “The Virtual Chel-sea Hotel, the finest building, most likely, in this whole, wide conti-nent. Represented by *you*.”

Alright, that’s it Horace,” states Baker Bloch angrily. “I’m evoking class *5* status by rights of being the *author* of this novel — a *Collagesity* novel, after all — and saying that your Philo is disqualified, disqualified, *disqualified* from the race for the treasure. Now — *get out*. It will be between me, *Duncan* here — a man like yourself, thankfully, or I don’t know *what* you’d call him — and then Lou, our representative apparently from the Mountain Lake region of the Omega continent.” In his rage, he left out the remaining candidate at the table: Teepot’s Jeffrie Phillips.

But Horace Wise didn’t leave immediately. “You’re taking all this serious-ly. The” — he looks over at Duncan — “*black* man here. Then a woman. *Wo*-man.”

“Yes!!” Baker Bloch’s yell could probably be heard all the way over to Horace’s hometown.

And this is probably what a lot of people were like back then. And could still be. Yes, probably were around in good numbers still. Philo is *history*, but history repeats.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0509, Mountain Lake^, Myron, Rubi^, Teepot^^, VHC City^

Providence too

“I assume you’re here about the treasure hunt,” spoke Collagesity representative Baker Bloch to the stranger sitting beside him, breaking the awkward silence.

“Y-es,” proclaimed Horace Wise in a surprisingly stilted voice (to Baker). “We think we have what it takes in Philo to complete the task — wrap everything up neat and nice-ly.” He looked at Baker directly now. “Take it *home*,” he furthered.

“Philo, huh. The retro-village? Just over there?” Baker Bloch points in a southeast direction from their position atop the Virtual Chelsea Hotel. And, yes, he was already trying to be slightly dismissive of the haughty tone set. In defense mode.

“We are *not* re-tro. It is just that most people around us — on the continent — are from the *fu-ture*.” Horace Wise scanned his neighbor with protruding lower lip. “Like your-*self*, apparently. What fair village or town or city do you represent? Are you a class 4 burg? 3? Dare I say: *2*? We are proudly a 4, since we span two sims now, Myron and also Catal-pa. We actually, in a way, share the Catalpa-Tessock sim with VHC City, another 4.” Horace Wise paused. “I assume VHC City is in the hunt as well, since we’re *here* — at the Chel-sea. I wonder where their represen-tative is, though?”

“I represent Collagesity, by the way,” a now truly irritated Baker Bloch said. “Class 2 burg, I suppose we are. Considerably less than a sim. But we have the forest to boost us up.” Baker waited for Horace Wise to ask questions about the forest but they never came. Instead, he roosted on the class 2 aspect. Instant disqualification in his mind. Just like the case with Rodentia  — all the rest. The many “others.” The wannabes in his mind. Like stars you can’t see with the naked eye in the sky. Don’t matter; nothing to see.

“Hmph,” instead came Horace Wise’s simple, cuttingly dismissive reply. They sat together even more awkwardly after this, waiting for others to show up. Baker Bloch dare not look in his eyes again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0508, Myron, Rubi^, VHC City^

zilch

George liked it here on the peninsula Duncan assigned him to keep an eye on. This meant Core-Alena in whatever shape she happened to be in at the time. This included The Between, a slither of land representing a neutral point between Virtual and Reality. This meant, well, anything else in and around the peninsula. Just keep your eyes peeled, requested Duncan.

And something had happened tonight, George then realized, peering around. The Seven Crate was gone from its former position behind the Magenta Girls’ beach house.

First the VEN off the boat moored just offshore several days ago, now the SeVEN crate itself. Better get this information back to Duncan as soon as possible, George considered. Maybe… right now?

—–

“I *told* you not to come here, George.”

“I’m properly disguised — in costume.”

“Nevertheless. You’re still a boy of 13 at heart. This is an adult portal.”

George glanced over at the center of it all again. “Milk. And cookies.” He pointed. “Funny.”

“Stop looking over there. You don’t know *what* will show up. Just stare straight ahead.”

“Okay.”

“Tell you what, let’s just get out of here.”

“But I just arrived,” protested George. “Ohhh.”

“Let’s go back to the apartment.” And so they did.

—–

“Okay, I feel a lot more comfortable now with you being here. So… start at the beginning. When did you find the crate missing? After the boat name changed, I know. But just go through the events of the day leading up to it.”

So George unfurled the events of the day leading up to the discovery. Core-Alena and he had had breakfast together at the beach house. “English muffins, ummm,” George remembered. “Core-Alena is a good cook, especially for a tree.”

“That’s a racist and bigoted response,” reprimanded Duncan. “Trees are no different than people. There’s trees that are good with cooking, good with music, good with science. Just like people.” Duncan stared an apology out of his young ward.

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Now continue.”

“Well, we finished breakfast, and then I helped with the dishes and we sat around and chatted. Core-Alena — well, you know how she is. Always complaining.”

“Watch it,” warned Duncan.

“Alright.” George nodded here. “But she started on… talking about how she got killed again.”

Duncan paused with this, turned and appeared to look out the window toward the great Hotel Chelsea (the center of it all *here*) while actually deep in thought. “I see.”

“She mentioned you.”

“Of course she did.”

“And how she’s not happy being where she is now. Mobile. That’s the problem,” the boy guesses.

“Yeah,” admits Duncan, turning back around. “That’s the problem, George.” He shuffles his feet a bit, wrings his hands nervously. “A conundrum even.”

George pauses in turn. “She needs to go back into the ground. Doesn’t she?”

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0011, 0216, The Straight^, VHC City^