Jasper Falls in the sim of Jasper…
… is no more.
Nauty is roaming the metaverse again in search of a home, pins just there there and there.
“I don’t get it. Do you get it John?”
“Not really,” he answers, watching the bull absorb the milk once more and become human, able to recite his abcde’s.
“Well… we better talk about it more in the next post. I haven’t got anything on, being a traveler again. How about you?”
“Bingo night at the club,” answered John. Nauty would have to speculate by himself, which he was good at anyway.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0403, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File
extreme resonance
“Well I have to admit I’m *jealous* Mr. Z. You’ve done such a fabulous job here…”
“Aw *shucks*. T’wernt nothing.” His true face on the many masked backpack he always carries around identifies itself by turning slightly red here.
“And I’ve, well, I’ve barely touched the Temple of TILE. So jealous…”
Mr. Z reached over, patted his hand. “We’ll work on it… *together*.”
“Sweet of you.”
“But first I have to make a journey. Across the island, south side instead of north. I have to go see where my cousin is, the other Mr. Z, the one they specifically named and called Zimmy. Last I heard: with a Beech.
Al’s cell phone rang. “I have to take this,” he said to the historian living on the second floor of Crooked in the village of Constantynople who had just recreated, to the best of his ability, the famous TILE channeling room where a 3rd cousin to himself and Zimmy, Olive Oylstick (who we’ve already met in this here photo-novel at the end of section 01), gave the virtual and real worlds her uber-important manifesto. All the answers to the universe, some say are in there. Trouble was, no one really knew how to properly decode the almost indecipherable document yet. Mr. Z was hoping that this re-creation was a step in that direction, along with coordination with Al and his high connections, TOM we’re talking about here. Who is on the other side of the line with Al now. Let’s listen in as best we can.
“Yeah it’s a nice day here in Constantynople, thanks for asking. What’s on your mind, TOM?”
Reply. I thought I heard the word Jasper, which was confirmed just ahead.
“Oh. Sorry to hear about that, TOM. So, hmm, I guess you’ll be staying in the Waste now. Is that where I find you?”
Longer reply. Perhaps a minute or even two.
“For now, huh?” Al responds. “Seeing what develops in Jasper — not giving up on it. Okay, as long as I know where you are.” Then, glancing over his shoulder at the setup within, Al gives him some news that he thinks will cheer his superior boss up.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0402, Constantynople, Nautilus, Rank & File, Temple of TILE
00390401
After reading Bart’s own what they later called treatise, a proper study indeed, Lisa wandered around the town as if on drugs, unable at times to distinguish the true nature of reality. “What’s this?” she asked Wanda, now working at Neptune’s Stop and Go. “An orange? A Christmas decoration? *Wait*. Too early for Christmas, since this is… dammit, what time of year *is* it?? The 4th??”
“Always the 4th,” spoke Wanda, probably part of the trance or vision or whatever was going on with the intelligent yellow gal, having confronted the nonunderstanable, even to the super smart, which she borders on at the very least. The Abyss, others call it. The Great Void. “Wha-what do you mean by that? Wanda?”
“Go home, Lisa. Go back to your maw, your paw. Do you know where you live?”
She didn’t! “No!”
“Then Sylvester will guide you. Syl-VESTERR!” she called in an impossibly loud voice.
“I’m *right* *here*,” the tuxedo cat said, popping out of the same orange and green arrangement Lisa had questioned just earlier. He leapt down on the floor, extended his hand. “Come on come on,” he urged in a slobbery voice, a bit of spittle landing on Lisa’s red shoed feet. “Your mommy and daddy are probably waiting on you, probably wondering where you are.”
“Where — I am?” She stared at the proffered white hand.”
“Go ahead,” urged Wanda from the side. “It’s your only hope.”
Only hope. She grabbed the paw and went out the door.
The cat was gone. Bart appeared on a skateboard, did a nifty turn to halt the thing and come right up on her. “Jesus, Lisa. Mom and Dad were worried sick! Now why did you have to stomp out like that, like some kind of zombie? And where is my paper?! I have to turn it in tomorrow. Did you throw it in the trash? Jeez, Lisa, why would you do such a thing? Didn’t you like it? I know I’m not as smart and don’t read nearly as much as you — heck, I hardly read at *all*. But… hey Lisa. You all right? Can you hear me? Jeez. We better get you home, Lisa. I better walk you home. If I only could connect myself all up, jeez, I guess I could do that very thing. But, as you can see…”
Something was wrong, very wrong. Bart had scared Lisa to pieces with his words.
She wakes up?
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0401, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island
00390317
Got it! said Bart internally at 12:37 on Friday morning after Thursday night. TILE is related to FILE! And so it began.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0317, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island
00390316
Lisa got permission to view the film because she was in a class for special children and was doing a project for it. Eventual title: “How Milk was Born.” Bartholomew, *not* being a special child and thus not in the same class with the same privileges, didn’t get the same permission. But oh did he watch the same film, over and over again, 5 times in total. He snuck out of his bedroom every night at 10:45 with the help of Lemmy the Magic Tree that was once a mortal enemy with a net and a knife. Lemmy had grown up to be a friend, putting childish rivalries away.
“Lemmy, come over here again,” Bartholomew requested, and a branch was extended, big enough to hold a boy his size and allow him to drop to the ground safely. “Thanks Lemmy,” Bartholomew said at the bottom, loud enough for the tree to hear through his “ears” but not loud enough to alert the parents, usually preparing for bed by this time or already in it. The tree rustled its leaves in answer and Bartholomew was on his way through the backs of lots and down alleys full of cats and rats. On to the 88.
First night:
“*Bart*. What are you doing here??” And so on with the reprimands for a while, which were dampened when Lisa learned that her little brother desired to create a report on the film too, and that he’d show those stuck ups at school he can make something of his life. “I’ll… help,” she finally relented. “Shhh, the movie is starting,” said Bartholomew to this, more eager than ever to be a success.
Lisa only went that one time, thinking with her superior brain that’s all she needed. Bartholomew attended the whole week up until Friday night when the regular people in town would be able to go and he might be caught and told on. So that was Sunday Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday, happy days indeed.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0316, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island
mayor
He remembers that island, small in size but big in passion. Alysha. How did I measure up so short?
—–
“Thank you for the huge bowl of patriotic soup bowl, Herbert. It does cheer me up, warms my heart. Whatever was left of it after the Abyss Absorption.”
“AA,” said Herbert Glenn Gold to this. He remembers it more by the initials. He only learned the meaning of the initials at age 17, after all the really spooky visions of the event had faded along with his imagination. Spiders, spooks and goblins he dimly recalls through the Age of Newton that had taken control since. Hard to go back to Jasper once it’s done and you go through the secret, basically invisible door. To adulthood — manhood. And I mean that for everyone. Because of the whole Newton angle. The giving of the big bowl of soup was the equivalent of giving a teacher an apple for, hopefully, good favors ahead. A is for Apple after all, and an A++ is a really big one — full of steam, it seems. He had done good, he felt. He deserved what he wished for. Promotion. Alysha back. The works.
“I recall — you like the initials,” said Mid-Hazel, about ready for the big reveal. “Helps to cope with the reality. I wish I had that luxury.”
“I only wish you the best moving forward,” Herbert Glenn Gold said rather naively, rather transparently. Mid-Hazel, in her almost infinite wisdom thanks to, ahem, AA, could see through it pretty clearly, unlike the bottom of an opaque lake. She notes the (anti-)name as a good place to take a rest and maybe a picnic in the afterlife — nice ring to it; easy to remember. Sometimes she desires not to see bottoms. If man (everyone) was meant to view that man would have been born with eyes on his fanny (etc.).
“I’m… dying, Herbert. No no no: no pity.” Herbert fakes a gasp then stifles a yawn. He’d known about this for days, almost centuries he felt. The Big Reveal dragged on and on… and on. This was about the 100th, nay, 1000th time she’d said this to him. And still she keeps on keeping on: doesn’t change much in appearance when he returns. Why does she keep telling me this? he wonders.
But then he takes another gander. Big, goofy eyes this time. Sewed up mouth. He recalls way way back. Yes, this was an original form. He’d only seen it in pictures. Just after AA, he realized. Maybe the old hag was really dying; not crying wolf again.
Opaque Lake, Mid-Hazel thought, staring at the golden figurines before her. Pre-AA here I come!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0315, Black Ice, Jeogeot, NWES Island
FD hair:permed loose ringlets
“Comes in every day about this time and does a little dance. Says he feels like he’s sprouted wings he’s so free. I think it has something to do with what goes on in that church about every day this time. I’ve heard rumors. And, well, I’ve plain out heard — rag breaks at the dumpster, you know. Something’s going on, and not quite religious, not even for those Tilers over there.”
“It’s this town,” offers Gloria to Wanda, working on their 3rd beach of the novel. Or quickly getting there, beach about a 100 meters away from here still. Hurricane season once more, though. Water will come to them. “I haven’t quite figured out how to word it…”
“Novel; unique,” says bartender Wanda to this. Robert finishes his dance, dramatically opens the front doors of the place, waves to the winged statue outside, and strides away in his powerful manner, like a king from a throne. Left not right; toward the ocean. Because he’s through with religion for now. Until Monday’s Wednesday, which is tomorrow. Happy days all 6 or 7, whether you count renegade Munday or not. He has that option.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0314, Jeogeot, Neptune, NWES Island
Sunklands 