Category Archives: Nautilus

Vowells

And so they were wedded that June. Something about substance over style in the vows. Something about quantity over quality. Substance and quantity over style and quality? Something was wrong here, really wrong. What does this wedding have to do with Constantynople, our newly minted darling of the blog? And why do we have the returned, purple gowned Wheeler in Alpha with Baker Bloch? Marriage of convenience? Let’s back up, have them eat those words for now…

We are at the end of 32, sliding into 33. Wheeler wasn’t joking. She’d won the Tic-tac-toe game fair and square. “We will be married to each other and also the town,” he now recalled about what she said at the grated white table in Ontario above the completed board, food shunted aside for the moment. Town, he contemplated. Wrong one. *Really* wrong one. He was falling into a pit, deep and dark and dank and dingy. 4D. No returning to kaput Ontario to the scene of the crime. We’d have to resolve this situation elsewhere. He lost his hat.

Someone stirred in the blue and yellow glowing teepee.

Fall over, Pitch Darkly stepped out of his dark (etc.) house and into the blinding white light. “Hey you blippity bleep bleep kids stop playing around with that statue!” he cried from the porch.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0506, Constantynople, Nautilus, Wendy-Ontario, Wild West

Constantynople

My newest virtual village, already finished in outline form, I feel. Center is 7 story high Falmouth Gallery this go around. The name Collagesity is kaput for now. Falmouth represents the only ground gallery of my work. No Red Umbrella, Boos. No Power Tower or Edwardston Station in any form. More on that soon. Temple of TILE is also a central building, parked in front of Falmouth as seen in the above photo. I want to work on my personal religion, see how far I can take it. This may mean the return of Man About Time, who is also all about TILE. How about the late great Jeffrie Phillips, his former boss, the previous mayor or sheriff or something of Collagesity? We’ll see.

Sunklands Instititute is still in town, just moved off to one side to fit in better with the high landscape masses to the east. Town even has an airport, although not of my design and merely “appropriated” for my use. All current private land is on the opposite side of the sim sized island, which is also convenient. All land immediately bordering Constantynople, to the east south west, is accessible. And to the north is linden water. Perfect, I feel. What should happen. Not a rebirth of Collagesity, like I said, but something more logical for the time and place. Not dominated by collage galleries but also not forgetting about them or shunting them totally aside. They are as much a part of me and my virtual life experience as anything.

More on this exciting new development soon!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0505, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Wild West

making hay

Her long journey over (thanks “Sing to God”, the double album masterpiece by the Cardiacs, for getting me there!), she pulled into a spot dotted with horses, real and plastic alike. Her Boyfriend’s XL flannel shirt she threw on in a rush served pretty well to ward off the cold; would have worked better if she hadn’t kept the windows down the whole way out here because of the music; had to play it loud in order to get the full impact of the event. And she didn’t forget her pistol — secured in a holster at the top of her stockings, along with some phony cash and some cheating cards, or so she told me earlier (4 “extra” aces). Hidden by the shirt, we’ll say. There was always something going on for this creature of the night. The Gates of Heaven were safe for some, probably most. But not for her, she reckoned. Heck, she may even have a shoot out with the Lord if she doesn’t watch out. Al, I think he goes by these days. Her new boss, one could say. The person she has to answer to. She’ll make sure she does it on her own terms. No need for him to know about the gun, money, cards. Not yet.

She had reached the end of the road if not the end of the line. Now where the heck does it continue from here, she pondered, staring at and around the red star. She was moving in a direction not many people knew even existed. She was heading off the map.

Rounding the corner of the sign and spotting the horse rezzer, she remembered. She could follow this wall all the way to the ocean and then just keep going: south. Shouldn’t be too much further.

—–

“Almost there, Sugar Cookie,” she reassured the water disliking horse. “Almost home.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0504, Constantynople, ENIGMA, Nautilus, North, Rank & File, Wild West

persisting (lime green teddy)

If there’s anything to this *line* she must start here, she feels. A woman named Constantyne, memorialized in the sim of Constance. Too close to be accidental, she understands (the only other Constan/ sim is Constantine, etc.). This is ground 00 — ‘nother one.

But what was this place, actually? She and her ice cream eyes longed to explore further.

—–

She found something. A man standing on the beach, as if looking for someone. For me, she thinks? She zooms in. A black man, tall, maybe 6′ 5″ or so. A guess, but she’s good at such. A man, yes, named Hill, Ruby’s psychic senses tell her beyond the ice cream eyes and lips and everything else. Hawaiian style swimming trucks. Odd goggles — lighted. The man wants to dance but can’t. Someone is stopping him from doing so. His partner cannot arrive without the balls, red and blue. But, she also senses, *both* balls are blue, one upright and one reversed. Sex, male and female. A decision must be made.

This man, wishes to be a father.

The man can grow 3 inches any time he wants to and become 6′ 8″, another Hill. Two Hills in one, then. But it means giving up the product.

The man is both blue and yellow. Think that’s it. Better get back and report.

—–

“My boys!” Mike exclaimed back in Annaberg in the sim of Newt, sitting around his mica table again, yet another ground 00 but perhaps the first. “Poison!” he shrilled. “Poison!” his mate Pat duplicated beside him. They thought this part of their story was done and over with and that they could freely and easily move to the center of Lemon Free State, good over here and bad over there, just a small fraction of its former power. Almost nonexistent. But, turns out, it may last above all the rest.

“No, don’t worry on that front,” explained Ruby to the excited couple. “He didn’t have the product. I looked all around. No lemon, no lime.”

Fruit headed Mike and Pat, being who they are, became very confused with this. Eventually they just disappeared in front of her. She had a new boss to report to. Al.

“My name is Al,” he started, “but you can just call me X. I am the founder of a new religion. Died not by the cross but the desert. Did I say that right this time? Yes. Desert. Died.”

—–

“Hello,” it said between two Tiki totems, making him turn. Ruby was wrong.

(to be continued)

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different

Despite the prehistoric nature of the place they sometimes had guests. Like today. Robed angels of death stared at her in several sizes and shapes from this perspective. Death was the guest as well, it seemed.

“If I have children, *when* I have children,” she corrected, “I’m going to name them Flaarf and Bozo, after this Second Lyfe sim.” She has a second life here, she realizes. A second chance.

“What about Ingleboort, dearest,” offered Dr. Brown beside her. “I thought if you had twins you were going to name them Ingleboort and Flaarf, giving up on Bozo — like with the Middletown children. ” He didn’t add *alien* children. “It’s not a very complementary first name. Kids will make fun of him. Or her.”

“Yes,” she said, recalling that decision as well, a Muff-Bermingham one and not from the Moon. That darn, lingering Moon, bearded and all. She briefly looks into the sky to see if she can spot it. No luck; too sunny today she reckoned. Full shine on.

The guest finally spoke. He wanted to make a deal to come back. He wanted a religion named for him, this Mr. X as he called himself. Xianity would do swell. He said he’d die to make it happen if it came to that. And it probably would given our history.

“Starve,” he said, choosing a course to do it certainly not involving a meal. “I’ll go out in the dessert and fast myself to death. If it comes to that.” The visions must be purified, he knew. “Desert,” he then amended. “Did I just say dessert? How fitting!” He laughed, probably in a good way. Ally, yes.

As they negotiated, the roaming Allans roared but kept their distance, instinctively knowing here was someone who could eventually defeat their dark overlord and set them free.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0502, Nautilus, Rank & File, Upper Austra^

a lane to walk down

He never could remember which one was an Allosaurus and which one was a Tyranosaurus so he ended up just calling them both Allanosaurus, a catchy name that he couldn’t get rid of, *achoo*. Darn, lingering cold.

He had just finished wiping his nose when Jane stirred in the tent.

“Ohh, my *head*.” It was here she realized she had lost another baby which was the same as a ball. It was all play and pretend except it wasn’t.

“I had to give you a sedative so you’d sleep through it all,” Dr. Brown explained to his ground 00 patient, still waiting for that ball to turn blue so he could determine a sex. Else: this keeps happening. Waking up in the woods. With the dinos, Real Self far far away.

Jane remembers the 8 corners of space, the near (Moon) and the far (Muff-Bermingham). Trouble was, she couldn’t remember which is which, more memory condensing and overlapping. Like with the Allans, as Brown eventually, inevitably shortened the name to.

“I… *died*!”

“Yes, in a way. Your baby died. You died along with it. Except you didn’t. You are here.”

Jane managed to raise herself from the tent floor, look out the door. Dinos. Allans. Everything was here that was needed to understand. South America. Land of the Dead.

“Library,” she said.

“That too,” he admitted. “I suggest we read while we wait. Cut back the talk. No need to waste oxygen. You have them in your eyes as well. Just think of a book to read… and read.”

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0501, Nautilus, Rank & File, Upper Austra^

The Line (Upside-Down)

Doc Brown had about given up. He just can’t quite get this whole alien pregnancy in a ball concept down. He’s tried basket, he’s tried soccer now. He wanted a blue one but couldn’t find it in his inventory. Blue would set the correct position, right-side up instead of upside-down. This wasn’t working. He needed to get some sleep. He dozes on the spot. Right next to his creation. The girl from Venus, maybe Mars, with Jupiter and especially Neptune a much longer shot. He wanted her to be from a planet you could see and observe and not hide from. So Jupiter still in play. Even barely noticeable Uranus. Here he is, spacing out about space again, he laments. Can’t… sleep…

But he was.

He wakes up next to his wife of 17 years and stares over at the expanded stomach, the child they made together. Finally, after so many attempts. He’s going to teach him or her how to play basketball or soccer, his or her choice. Then he remembers the plug, the thing you’re not suppose to see but somehow he can. Just like Ruby. This indicates the alien nature after all, his greatest fear.

(to be continued)

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German

He finally thinks to go inside somewhere and tell someone about the accident, the terrain shift. Paul is dead! it appeared. And Ringo. And John. Especially John, it seemed, deeper in the dirt than the others. He’ll remain in the Cavern now, trapped in the past forever and ever… And the future, as it turns out.

“Can I speak to the manager in charge?” Newt said to Sue Anne the counter attendant of the moment.

“How about the owner?” She indicated Evelyn Hart (“Rag Doll”) to her right, his left.

She was already pondering possibilities, seeing his own name above his head. Newt, she thinks. Odd — peculiar. Like the sim I — I mean, everyone here in town… controls. SODA. “Order something,” she decided to request, staring straight into his eyes over 01 02 03 04 gullies. “Some kind of drink. A soda perhaps.” Would he? Did he know the ultimate secret?

—–

Afterwards, he tried to isolate everything associated with the mysterious crash she talked about. 309 prims total in the linked objects, including this wagon that just happened to have formerly appeared in Squared Root City over in Nautilus, a town now defunct as we know from the last photo-novel (37). He recalled he use to be able to sit on these steps. Here:

https://bakerbloch.com/2021/11/21/00300301/

Whatever happened to the younger guy with the pure white hair? he wonders, thinking back. And then remembers the truth, the transformation.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0313, Jeogeot, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Squared Root City, Sunklands^

Mountain Man

He put her in the corner by the stove while he stood in the opposite one. The sparkles indicated a presents, the here and the now. Aluminum can. She turned and kissed him full on the lips. How could this be? He was 2 dimensional, she was 3. Plus they were about 10 feet apart. Yet here we are, talking about it.

“Is this how you *met*?” Thomas Boyy queried from her desk in her hovel as he illuminated the scene. 2:02 now. He was spilling.

“No. We met a long time ago. August 2016.”

She counted it out. “That’s almost 7 years ago. And she hasn’t gotten old? This *toy*?”

Through him, I thought about slightly earlier. Woods. Platform. “No,” I said, going within. “Not old… besides the 7 year part.”

“No time for jokes here, young man. Spill more!” She checked her watch. Fate dictated they wrap up quickly. She was at the top of the mountain, him: the side; only halfway up still. It was an abyss in there. 31 to 32. Retired

So he illuminated some more, knowing that was the only way to get out of here in one pieces.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0304, Blue Mountain, City Park, County Park, Lands End, Nautilus, The Waste^^, Toy Avatars

003802-1/2

She took her leave with this after pitching an attached deal about a descent into Microcosm. Pat came as requested.

“Hello.”

“Hello.”

“Future… woman from the future…”

“… was here. I know,” said Pat. They kept in touch.

“I am (his head started vibrating)… *sorry* about before (stopped vibrating, as if hard-to-express emotions caused it — probably do).”

“PM,” she pointed to herself, “to AM,” she pointed to him. She then also pointed with the other hand and then alternated points with each in a playful manner. He hesitated but then joined in the fun. They were, in essence, poking at each other from across the Table. Everything was okay. Then he told her about the pitch. Did Pat know already?

They jointly decided she needed to be banished… to the 512 they also owned in the sim. “Poison,” he said. “Poison,” she said. They could have been talking about a sugary soft drink but weren’t. So much to that show as probably opposed to “Futurama”. So dang funny! Often lands hard.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL, 0038, 0212, Lower Austra^, Wild West