Sunklands

“I fear it’s this place, Baker Bloch. Once you block things off and separate private from public, the collage elements start showing up.” She returns her attention to Curled Paper. “So your brother isn’t dead after all.”

“No mum,” came his reply.

“And what we just experienced was more hallucination than reality.”

“Careful with that type of language,” Baker advised again to Wheeler. “We’re *trying* to invoke halluciations. It’s the whole Bogota series we’re attempting to start up. You’re certainly a part of it, Wheeler. What with your David Bowie appearance and regalia. *Are* you David Bowie? Again??”

“I think so,” she replied. “Yes, I know so. I am David and David am I. But what of the darting hummingbird? My Hummie. It’s the work of Carrcasonnee. She’s attempting to dart me?”

“We could go to the Boos gallery and do some studying,” Baker offers.

“Do you think that would help?” Wheeler asks. “Well, okay. I wanted to walk around the town anyway. Review the changes for me as we stroll. Curled, hold down the fort. Do *not* let your brother in here again. And don’t dismember him again like you did before. You two are sickies.”

“Are we?” asked Curled Paper innocently.

“Yes,” she replied firmly. “Baker, are you ready? Is it colder out there? I’ll take my shawl if so.”

“I don’t think so, Wheeler,” Baker Bloch responded.

“I don’t want to freeze my ass off,” she says, getting up. “Apparently no one in town would like that.”

“We want to make you comfortable here for sure,” Baker said to Wheeler.

“Yup. That’s why I’m so powerful. Unblock the door.”

—–

Baker didn’t realize how close Boos was to Perch. Just a hop down and a couple more steps and you’re in.

Will this help? We’ll see.

—–

“So where do we start in all this collage of confusion, Baker Bloch? I know it has some order. I’ve read the interpretation now. I know several relate to Second Life. See? There’s Collagesity, or at least the sky tunnels.” She points to Boos 05 ahead of her, titled “Simpsons Road Bloch”. “There’s not one but two Wheelers in that one, Baker Bloch. Explain. What’s with the Missouri Wheeler?”

“I think it’s you. You were there… in Missouri. Except it was just more collage.”

“Was it?” She studies not the Wheeler on the road but the Wheeler just off the road, more hidden but still obviously a brother to the one on the road.

“This is the two sides of me, public and private. Working theory. The public is on the road and visible to all. The triangle of Simpsons, like a rack of pool balls, act as a block. The private Wheeler stands beside the road. Already veered off the road. There is dialog going on between public and private. They are aware of each other’s presence.”

“See? I told you this would help,” a reaffirming Baker says. “Two sides of you, yes. One on the road, one off. Blocked and unblocked. But are you Lisa (Simpson) as well?”

“Let’s just move around the gallery and see,” she replies.

—–

“Ahh, Davy Jones. *Davy Jones*. The bastard. That should’ve been me.”

“Are you not happy now with the Bowie name? It seems fate. Like your eyes.”

“Yes, my eyes as well. My name, my eyes. But what are he and Frank Zappa up to in this work, Baker Bloch? Spool tables? Army men? Peeping Bobs?”

“I think it spoke more of the Bigfoot art happening at the time,” Baker says. “And Head Trip. That’s one of yours now. The negative carrcass. Negative 7, I believe.”

“Yes, we’ll get to all those negative carrcasses in due time. Decide who of those old wankers we invite to the table. Obviously not Davy Jones. *That* Davy Jones. But maybe Zappa still. But that’s for a little later on. Let’s proceed since you don’t have any firm answers about that one.”

—–

“A Wheeler again. Traveling around a wheel. I think. Is this me going ’round in circles? Front and back and side and side? Revolving around and around? I think it could be.”

“Yes,” Baker responds. “And maybe why Davy Jones seems to spin the spool table in the former collage.

—–

“You need to get your finger looked at. I saw you attempt to shoot that (humming)bird a bird. You can’t hide collage from me. Not in my blue palace.”

“Well, why don’t we just back up one more collage, then,” responds Baker, “because Baker Bloch’s hand is hidden in that one. My father was asking about that one as well recently. Last month, I believe.”

“First of last month, yes,” Wheeler answers with more detail.

“He asked me why I was holding that meteor. But I’m not holding it. It just appears so from the perspective. Actually its plummeting from the sky, aimed directly for Fitz the Mouse’s head. He looks up in terror. But it doesn’t kill him, despite replacing his head for a time.”

“That silly 12 Oz Mouse of Carrcassonnee’s,” Wheeler says. “Not solid entertainment like those in The Bill. Zappa knows.”

“Okay. Then there’s The Martian to close out this floor. Boos 10. The one that blocked my father from seeing…”

“Me?” Wheeler suggests.

—–

“You know,” says Wheeler, back in the Table Room,” Karoz didn’t really go to Mars. Oh he brought back pictures, true, and he did go somewhere. But not apart from Second Life. One dead giveaway is the two Saturns in the sky. Two Saturns! Did that not arouse his suspicions?? But, anyway, it turns out one of the two is actually real and that’s the direction we need to take. We need to use that real Saturn’s gravity as a sling shot to deeper space and get to Muff-Bermingham. We can do it without the eye. But the trip will be risky. That’s why we’re sending redshirts.”

Baker looks over to Curled Paper, understanding why he’s here now.

“And the brother,” Wheeler adds, seeing what Baker is seeing.