“We’ve got to keep an eye out on that [black guy] walking over there, Virus.”
“Just black and white,” The Mann determined about some lips in another 0117 post to end. “No pink.”
So much more could be written about the continent of Maebaleia or Satori, the focus of the current Collagesity novel, 15th in our continuing series. It was also the focus of the 14th — bookend works, as I’ve described them previously. But we must soon move on.
I believe now that the continent represents the closest approach Our Second Lyfe ever came to Earth. This virtual reality was at its peak when the large and long landmass was forming. Greed bred by the success even permanently scarred its landscape by creating an artificial division between North and South via severed, main highways — arteries originally designed to connect and culturally bind the two into one — eventually resulting in the short but still rather devastating Maebaleia-Satori Civil War we’ve been talking about so much lately. Who won the war? For us in the Real World, it was the North, as our American Civil War best resonates with this virtual conflict. But in Virtual Reality *below* Real Life if you will, the situation was turned on its head. The *South* there had the principle burgs, the most resources despite less area. And they were the ones who developed the Bomb, thanks to the time traveling A.Team historically based in Cassandra City. A bomb was launched from near Regaltown with little effect on its destination of Chip Shot. Although wiping the city out, almost everyone who lived there was currently in another location for various reasons. To this day, no one knows why. And then a different kind of (retaliatory) rocket-bomb from the North hit Golden City at or near the original’s launch site. Apparent loss of lives this time, although, again, details remain fuzzy. The South negotiated with the North. The North, like ours up here in the US, seems to win. Then novel 15 took up the story from 14 and we understand that Golden City and resulting impact crater of Golden Sink was not exactly what it seemed. Neither was Sink X (bomb crater for Chip Shot, which became Pipersville after the war), but not quite in the same way. A new strategy for winning the war emerged from this confusion over time, space, options. Bit by bit, outlined in this novel 15, the South regained the advantage over the North and eventually enacted a victory with a direct strike at the X, the crossroads, the heart of X-City and, indeed, the heart of the North as a whole.
Axis married Teebestia; heart turned into a spade. The menacing black figure in the skies will always be there now, like a modern day Death Star. It has the surface appearance of a Mickey Mouse silhouette to novel 15 producer/director Eraserhead Man, true, but more: one of the ears (especially) withers down and turns into a droopy dog’s. A corruption is revealed in the center of Florida, directly etched into the land (again). The South wins the war through a central black hole that inverts the left hand into a right hand. This black hole was placed by smart Southern scientists, engineers, managers in the center of Golden City. It was a counter-weapon to the Bomb. This black hole eventually became the silhouette. Takes two to know.
(to be continued)
“An agreement was reached, Hucka Doobie. Two realities, but then one reality. And it’s not the one that won.”
“Hills of Bill,” Hucka Doobie elaborated from behind once more, also looking at the map containing the former “Blue” galleries of Maebaleia/Satori on the 2nd floor of the house. “Center.”
“… then Blue Feather.”
“Personally I don’t like to look at the thing,” she spoke, facing way from the map. “But there it is. The Maebaleia blue galleries of lore. Notice — and I’m not going to turn around for this — that Cassandra City near Bluestocking is closest to The Moon here.”
“I know,” cooed the staring Heart Queen, thinking back to the previously examined map on the second floor of the House of Truth. “Barracuda. Just like in ‘Moby Prick’. Gypsies. Karoz! I’m remembering. He was there!”
“He has been disguised as (similarly blue-green) Tealy for the current run of Collagesity photo-novels,” admitted Grey Scale. “Waiting to reveal himself.”
“Now’s the time!” requested the queen.
“Not quite yet,” tempered Grey Scale, who was still in charge despite the niceties. The Heart Queen, like Chesteria before her, was learning when to keep in line; bend her own will. “Don’t cross Grey Scale,” urged Chesteria as newly appointed executive advisor. “She knows what she’s doing. Despite the purse.” They both had a laugh about the yellow handbag after that — so unfashionable, both agreed. Doesn’t really go with any of her earrings, for example.
“We have to determine the identity of Tillie, the accomplice. She may be Baker Blinker, the wife in Our Second Lyfe. Or she may be…”
“Very close.” Grey Scale turned to the Heart Queen. “Very close.”
She wasn’t named for this gray scale alien. Instead: the gray scales of a fish to oppose the blue feathers of a bird. In toto: Grey Scale Kimball of the South pitted against Blue Feather Douglas of the North. Bird, sky, opposed by Fish, sea.
But in staring at the crop circle picture again hanging in the recently reconstructed House of Truth at the very center of Golden Sink, she’s beginning to think she *is* named for this famous, highly complex 2002 crop circle that miraculously appeared overnight in a field of wheat near Pitt, England (locally: Crabwood Farm). Both “grey scale”. Too coincidental.
Crabwood of August 15 was one of the most famous crop pictures in modern history, but no one could really understand its message. As shown in two pictures below, the schematic face of a “grey alien” was drawn within a large “rectangular box” that contained 60 horizontal lines, just as for an early “mechanical” TV image, chosen in the 1930’s because we use 60 Hz AC power. The variable width of each line then creates different “gray scales” (modern TV screens use far more lines to give better pictures):
Next, that rectangular box with an alien face was carefully aligned so that it would point at two, nearby TV-radio towers. This was as if to say: “Yes, our new crop picture is really meant to represent the TV image of a grey alien.” In other words, those crop artists can only see the alien “from a distance”, where the word “television” means of course “seeing over a distance”.
Now in one lower corner of that rectangular box, the crop artists also drew a “spiral disc” which contained an elaborate, ASCII-coded binary message as shown. I have omitted all concerns for punctuation or capitalization here, for increased clarity, especially since the last five bits of an ASCII code give one of 26 letters in the English alphabet.
In summary, the crop artists sent us a brief “computer recorded message” on CD or DVD, to accompany their TV-type image of a grey alien. Was Crabwood really alien-made? Many investigators thought so then, and continue to think so now….
And then there’s *Maebaleia’s* Crabwoo, she ponders further, another rectangular box (2 side-by-side, square shaped sims) whose northwest corner just touched the eastern edge of the Blue Feather Sea.
Original capital of the North before its decline and eventual death circa AL 1812-1814. Ur home of Blue Feather Douglas who derived
his her name from the sea. Her arch-enemy. Her… sister? Doppleganger? Is he even a she? We’ll most likely find out soon enough.
“I wish they wouldn’t emphasize that rocket so much here. Makes me cold inside, brrr.”
“Well,” jested older Keith B. a bit. “It was a big deal in the days. Put Golden City on the map.”
“Put it *on* the map by taking it *off*, brrr. Nothing left but a big hole.” She glances sideways at The Man, who was scanning pictures on the wall at the back of the stage, focusing on one in particular. “Speaking of which… he needs to get back over here and finish his story.”
“True,” agreed Keith B. “He can’t just leave us hanging in mid air about that whale.”
“Hey!” Kate McCoy called over to The Man. “We gotta keep moving down the road, to the fork. Else…”
“I know,” The Man replied in his cool, bass voice while still studying, still looking. “All of this will be in vain. But I believe — this man — is wearing — lipstick.” He touches Jimmy’s gray lips with his finger, as if he could swipe them and then check for color.
“Look at that green squirrel over there, honey.”
“No time for trivialities tonight, love. I’m worried.”
“When aren’t you?” returned her husband of 3 years. The original Space Ghost (!).
“We’ve lost our son Oliver. We’ve lost our daughter Eva.”
“Ona,” Old Space Ghost corrected. “Our daughter’s name is Ona.”
“Whatever.” Grammy sighs. “They’re gone. Along with the original homestead. A place called, called…” The name escaped her.
“Something about owls,” spoke Old Space Ghost, also pondering the appellation. “Something about the way they hoot.” He kept racking his brain. “Hootyville!” he exclaimed in a Eureka type moment, then shook it off. “Nah, that’s not it. Darn brain.” He knocks against it lightly with the head of his cane. “If only I were younger.” With this, he looked over at his wife Grammy expectantly.
She glanced at his stare, then back. “No. We’ll not go down that path again. Stick to the road. That’s the plan. She looked ahead at the golden dirt road curving around the fenced-in cornfield they sat in front of. “This is all that’s left of the old place. The only spot we have to hang our memories on. If we move — I’m afraid we’ll lose them forever.”
A trap, thought Old Space Ghost, looking at the golden track as well. A jail of sorts, even. Locked into this old body. Locked into this old, basically circular dirt road. Should have been paved a long time ago, pheh. That would have set time straight. Space too. Along with… something else.
Baker Bloch approached from the east. “Father;” he nodded toward Space Ghost. “Step-mother;” he nodded toward the woman known most commonly as Grammy. “It’s time if you’re still up for it.” He stared steadily at Grammy.
“Don’t do it woman,” sputtered Space Ghost, changing his mind. “You don’t know what the whale can do for you. Drive you *nuts* with that whirling and twirling and — *jiggering*.”
“Can’t I — just come in by default?” she pleaded. “Because I’m, you know, married to your father?”
Not the way it works, step-mother. You have to ride the wild whale (like everyone else). All Hail the Wild White Whale,” he recited automatically, but they didn’t return the exaltation. But he then pushed them and they grudgingly acquiesced.
The vortex started about 3 seconds in, her secret superpower revealed.
“So tell me about this place, Baker B.,” requested Hucka D.
“I don’t know,” I replied through Baker Bloch. “The Moon. Er, over there’s the Wild (White) Whale used to audition new avatars. And then back there is the White Whale Restaurant or Lounge or something where the winners gather afterwards, the avatars who are eligible for new parts.”
“Hmm. I see. Why not just audition them the regular way, say, to test their acting skills?” It was a logical question.
“In my estimation, accing is 99% perspiration, so they need stamina above all else. The Wild Whale tests this. Garfield, I mean, Hatfield failed, for example. 3.3 seconds out of 10, even on two tries. We give everyone a second chance. But it was 3.0 seconds the first time, and only a slight improvement for the second ride.”
“Kind of makes sense, I suppose,” Hucka D. replies. “Who do we have so far, then?”
“Colored TV — he won out over Black and White.”
“And Kate McCoy — she’s the real McCoy since she’s all grown up. Still listening to the patterns in her headphones, a trait carried over from childhood when she was just little Katy Kidd.”
“Is she married?” Hucka D. offered.
“Uncertain. But we have a location for her to employ her accing skills at. A house filled with dots.”
“Cool. And the others?”
“One we call just Chicken-Man now. Then, um, Dark or Black Elvis — Elvis Black I suppose. Then Kind of Messed Up Cat. The idea is that Kate McCoy will team up with this new cat now that Garfield — *Hat*field — is out of the picture.”
“Didn’t pass the whale ride test, yes.” Hucka D. paused to look around his surroundings again. “Any more characters coming up?”
“Oh,” deflected Baker Bloch — or me through Baker Bloch. “I want to show you something before I forget. I was scouting out the White Horse Village today for a reason.*
Hucka D. was thinking that she didn’t know he was scouting around White Horse Village today but didn’t say this aloud.
“Let me turn on the map first.”
“Nice,” exclaimed Hucka D. “And the pins are from the Blue Feather Sea locations from the previous novel. 14 isn’t it?”
“14’s a lot. Maybe it’s best to stop while you’re ahead.” A logical request.
“Well, 15’s already started. *We’re* in it. I have to see at least that one through. And, in truth, I think there’s going to be more after that. Moving Collagesity to the Nautilus continent and renaming it (7 Stones) was a key to continued evolving. That’s we’re we are *now*, of course. This skybox might not have been possible in Collagesity due to more limited prim amounts.”
“I believe they call that land impact amounts these days, Baker B.”
“I’ll still call them prims for simplicity’s sake.”
“As you wish.” Hucka D. points upwards. “I know that’s the Earth over there but what is this? Obviously the Blue Feather Sea remade as a cube, or the 6 composite sims folded up as a cube. But is it real? Looks kind of transparent to me.” She keeps peering upward, seeing stars through the predominantly blue cube. A triangle of stars, actually. She’s connecting the dots again.
“That’s what we have to find out next — or soon. Karoz’s ‘E’ found at the bottom now 10 years ago Earth time could be a key. If we could just figure out a way to land inside…”
“How about those stars,” Hucka D. then points out.
* What I through Baker Bloch forgot to show Hucka D. White Horse Village: directly under the White Whale Restaurant now.