PHOTO-NOVEL 25
shared states
“I will withdraw the monkey in me,” she said while standing on the edge. “Crime rates *will* go down in this here Collagesity, 25 in a series of 1.” Who is she to be so small yet so wise?
—–
I still have a definite presence in NWES City over on the Jeogeot continent, just diminished. We’ll see how that develops.
“Dear, can we go to the temple… now?”
“Not yet. I’m still trying on shoes.”
“Lordy, *pheh*.”
—–
Ray’s well deserved pizza should be arriving any minute. He’s forgotten who he is again.
—–
And static. Glorious static.
Corton 02
Jeffrey Phillips stands on the edge of the larger of the two Corton islands, staring across the bridging log at the lesser one. Meeting place, he ruminates. But who with? And where is Wheeler?; she was just behind me.
—–
Alone at the center of the second he morphs into a Mouse again. The Gods look down from above.
“He soo wants to change. For Charlene the Punk. For others perhaps. He wants to be a good ruler (of Collagesity).”
“He understands his roots in Twin Peaks’ Phillip Jeffries and that’s a good jumping off spot or point,” spoke the other, maybe a female this time. Let’s call her Ayesha.
“If he puts on the red Judy shoes that would help.”
“The slippers,” agrees Ayesha. Let’s say the male’s name in this scenario is Walter. Walter Westinghouse. From Homerland.
“All he has to do is click the heels three times and he’s home,” says Walter, who should know. “He doesn’t have to go through all this pain and sorrow. He doesn’t have to pass through Gormania, West Virginia.”
“All that has been taken car of,” spoke Ayesha, thinking about the bike and then the inability of Jeffrey Phillips to fit into the rest of his band of pink punks. He had his “revenge”: Syd to SID. And then, collaterally, TILE to Tyle. Mercury X. Rising at the center of the labyrinth remains in love with his car. Phillip Jeffries as snow white Pansy looks on.
“He’ll get there,” reinforces Walter. But not tonight, both knew, watching him revert to old form. Jeffrey Phillips walks away from the center of the second, intent on finding Wheeler back in the small woods of the first. Maybe I just inadvertently skipped over a post, creating a plot hole (‘nother one).
—–
“Yes, see there, Wheeler?” he said, pointing with his cane. “A hole in the terrain, or the real plot (of ground) showing through the facade.”
“Who are you old man?” spoke a concerned Wheeler just out of camera range again. “And what have you done with Jeffrey Phillips??”
slipperman (filling a hole)
“AYYYEEEEE!!”
—–
“I do believe he was trying to say your name at the end,” spoke Walter, also looking down on the mess below.
PHOTO-NOVEL 26
baby steps
“It’s a start.”
“He’s got a bit of, you know…”
“Brain Damage,” Wheeler offered (Wheeler? Is Wheeler still around? Could she just be *Wendy* now?).
“Yeah, like, you know…”
“Syd?”
“SID, yeah.”
“Syd lower case. Like lo-fi. Hi-fi and lo-fi.”
“Syd, right. Not the other Syd (SID).”
“Well, shall we (begin)…?”
—–
She’d actually been basically in Wallytown for I don’t know how long. Ever since the shower was installed I suppose, curing her — brain damage? Perhaps. Anyway, she was Wendy through and through. Fern Stalin and Lichen Roosevelt stared on, wondering what they had created. Hi-fi.
I can’t say what she did but it was a bad thing and she deserved to be.
—–
“They started by moving independently of each other, he with his lemonade and she with her secret — smile. Schweet. Yelloo.”
“Now you’re just chanting random (Nautilus) sims.”
“Not random, W. Can I call you…?”
“Of course. And, yes, I do have a schweet smile thank you for noticing.”
“Can I see it?”
“Not yet.”
—–
“So it was this lime colored car, an X 1/9, that started it all.”
“We can go with that. And the No Tor (she urged).
It started ON… the No Tor.”
“Okay let’s go with that (instead).”
free?
She was small but she was no longer a baby, this Alysha, not to be confused with Ayesha also from the last photo-novel. 26, eh. Number of letters. Beyond Missouri and Arkansas. Michigan. We are even again, 13 and 13.
“It is good that you progressed onward.”
“*You* again.”
“Of course. Your opposite. 13 and 13. Call me Michigan,” she then offered, giving me pause. Was she the one?
“Straminsky?” I tried. It was a word the Oracle didn’t know, or you had to back up back to three to get any population hits. Yet this was the 13th of the MASH sims. Did I succeed? She just kept on with that schweet but secret smile, like the end of INLAND EMPIRE. And maybe that was what all this was: the end of a long and dusty trail or something. Fulfillment. A drink of long sought after water from a magical well. “Well well well,” I wanted to utter but stopped myself. STOP
—–
“Get to the temple. The temple attached to the tor.”
“Thanks for allowing me to continue.”
“I waited for you. Alpha. Windyville. Zula. A woman with a child as one. Unity of mother and daughter. An “l” was crossed, forming a “t”. You progressed forward. 6 to 7.”
—–
She was gone. She never made it out of the shadow.
air tales
“Tom!! Over here!!”
“That’s not your brother, dear,” offered his mom. “That’s a woman.”
“Tomm!!” Peter insisted.
“Pipe down, son,” hissed the father. “I’m on the phone.”
From her heart shaped seat in front of the cafe, Alysha heard it all. She was trying to read her red book, which she’d already read a number of times, perhaps 8. She was finished eating (her pie). She remembered a red light, then nothing for a while. Then here. With the red book. And the red pie. She became impatient. She skipped 10 pages ahead to mention of High Fidelity before her, as if highlighted. What did that mean?
“Tommmmm!!” More distant now than before but that’s because we are hearing from the perspective of the girl. It was really louder up close and personal — Peter was very convinced, and his mother was even trying to pry his hands from his cheeks now, but they were as if stuck. Who’s Tom? Alysha wondered. A sister? Strange thought, she realized (“Tooooooommmmmm!”). Tom is not a girl’s name. But on the other hand, *she’s* a Tom, as in a tom boy. She could do anything a boy could and she does.
Across the terminal, and directly in line with the calls, Jen Saunders realized that flight 451 had taken off without a plane. “No plane, no plane!” she panicked. Future passengers milling about started looking at her, paying attention. “No — no –” She was out of breath. She began running, here and there. She ran toward Alysha, knocking into her, spilling the book. She got up with no concern for the girl, as if she’d just tripped on air. “No plane,” she started again. “No plane!” She was heading straight for the boy. “Toooooommmmmmmmmm!!” he called one last time.
Collision.
Jerry Lind
She’d basically been living in Wallytown for I don’t how long, weeks at least. She’d taken enough showers to kill a cow, wash a bible head starless black ink sculpture all the way back to clear. She wasn’t done. Someone was with her, urging her on. Her worse half, as she called the louse (see above). This was the Orient, this was India. *She* was India. It was about time for an interview.
India: Glad be here. Glad you like my secret schweet smile.
Me: I missed you in Delhi and New Delhi. Turns out it was American instead of Asia.
India: I like hiding (laugh; smile revealed again).
Me: Chef-inspector Petty is hot on your tail. How do you feel about that?
India: He’ll never find me. And if he did he’s just a mesh object. No danger to him, none atall (smile again).
Me: What of the plane?
India: There *is* no plane. Petty knows.
Me: What of Kolya, who also goes by Pepi and Can?
India: (after a pause, then serious) A schweet boy, but damaged goods. I dare not touch him.
Me: And Alysha? We seemed to have scared away all the main characters.
India: *We* are the main characters. Always have been, you and I (she points to her and me).
Me: Alysha is Asian (I tried).
India: We are done.
3 cores and a dummy
The train was 2 full and so that’s how they all met. Jerry, also named Harry; the nice Indian man Hidi the hamburger woman started to date afterwards — the proximity was just too close in there; and lastly but not leastly, Kolya, the damaged one. All we needed was Alysha to walk in and take a seat opposite them, but that was for later. In the here and now, we have the 7 merging into the 6, secret smile discretely packed away like a traveling trunk for boys.
“I knew he was damaged and we shouldn’t touch so I turned the other way.”
“Toward… Jerry,” I guessed. I figured the red complexioned Indian dude might be named Jerry as well. Jerry Lind perhaps, compliment to Jenny.
W thought back to that important time and place. They were traveling at a breath-taking speed, destination unknown, perhaps to New Delhi and Delhi and thereabouts again but maybe not. The white tiles flew by outside, almost at a blur’s pace; opposite of turtle or snail. We were in Wallytown I knew that. W didn’t seem to be able to really leave, now she’d met Jerry Lind (we’ll keep calling him). Giant for a day and maybe giant forever. If Wallytown had its way.
(to be continued)
holey man
“Brain Damage he had.”
“We’ve already determined that, okay,” she replied, planning her escape route. Starbucks should be open by now — 5:00. But Baker is trying so hard to understand. The 2 is impossibly in front of the boy-man, right where the brain was…
“Have him interact with someone in this specific location, so close to Collagesity. Alysha, perhaps. She hadn’t been in a post in a while.”
“Only if,” she compromised, “Kolya goes back to the airport and finds out more about the red book and the accompanying red light.”
“Deal.” He spits in his hand, which she naturally doesn’t shake. Such a goofy person (!).
—–
“See there? Mysten Underhill and Mysten, let’s see, can’t recall the other one. Anyway, those *2* squares, just there. Down toward the lower right corner; right in front of you, in fact. Do you see the houses? Of course you do. I rented one of those, or attempted to. And *Spongeberg*, yes, was there. I recall the number… 144. Table. We tried to set a table up. Didn’t quite work.”
Alysha let Kolya ramble on. He was a true friend and would do anything for her. He was attempting to explain the past of Mysten not far atall north of Collagesity through this old sim map they’d stumbled upon. He’d been here a long time. But so had she, just not as long.
“We owned just to the east,” he continued, remembering more and more about “2”. “But not in Siliconicus: that would be *southeast*. But the *Church* of the Silicon Soul was set up right on the border again. Right beside our own property.”
“The Table House.”
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “That was what it was called (!).” He paused, joyful in the memory. He could see vague faces around it.
—–
They had to go back in the past. And they could (!). Except only the darker side, the place of fumbles and bumbles. Spongeberg the Destroyer was still here, still lived in the general Collagesity area, but just more down in the east, beside Highway 14. He’d given up on 13 — moved on. The darkness beckoned. Christ and accompanying Christianity was not around to brighten the day any longer.
Mysten Underhill, 2015
—–
They both took another big lick of their triple scoop sorbet cones before continuing.
“Funny about places like this, Ayesha,” Kolya then said with cold mouth.
Alysha, she thought without correcting aloud, use to such things.
“Like they are stuck in time. Harder… more resistant to the general erosion… um.”
“… of Our Second Lyfe,” she finished for him.
“The 2, yeah.”
She looked at the top of his holey head, where the rain gets in. Simultaneously he recalls someone at the Table, as if they are linked by one user (they were). But he passes over the memory of Marty as if it were a letter gap. On to the next thought-color, green I believe.
Kolya realizes that was a lot of ice cream for a little girl. Because he could definitely finish it for her. “Are you done with that?” he couldn’t help asking while staring at the stack of mostly unlicked colorful balls in the cone in her hand. He was eager for more brain freeze.
00260412
That night, George dreamed he was with an Asian girl talking about a plane trip to India, and how they’d have to buy tickets soon in order to go before monsoon season. “Rain, continual rain,” the girl spoke to George, making a pattering motion with her fingers against her legs. Her red sneakered feet fidgeted back and forth upon a red circle on a red block of lego, with a red plane in the bookcase behind pointing to it all. Her rear end sat on green. George sprawled out on blue. “Yelloo!” yelled an old yellow guy on the lego bed beyond.
“Don’t listen to him, George,” requested Alysha the Asian kid. “He’s just an old man with nothing to say.” George didn’t think so. George woke up.
“Duncan?” George spoke over to his guardian on the other bed of their darkened apartment.
Duncan says, “yes?” nonchalantly without raising his head or opening his eyes. He had been unable to sleep ever since George told him the news about the spirits in the PCH woods. “I *saw* them,” he repeats at the time, hands on hips. Duncan was actually starting to believe the youth. And that damn Good Neighbor pylon. They know about The Diagonal, the thing he was suppose to protect and serve above all else! Besides George, of course.
“Had a dream. You said I was suppose to tell you about my dreams, at least for a while.”
“The forest,” spoke Duncan, understanding. He figured the woods and accompanying spirits, if real — and they appeared to be — would start to dominate George’s nights as well as days. Could he request he didn’t go back to the forest? Did he even have that authority now? As an inducted member of Pot-D, he had an obligation to protect The Diagonal. Protector of The Diagonal: Pot-D. But George was too, and just because George was a boy…
“‘Yelloo’,” George interrupted Duncan’s reverie. “The man in the dream said ‘yelloo’, just like your guy in the game.”
Duncan rolled over, sat up, stared. They were in for a long night. Better put on some coffee.
(to be continued)
Duncan’s hidden
Go to the temple of the tor now, she commanded again. Would Alysha listen this time? Before, she had teleported directly into the ship, enthralled by its shadow. But maybe she could escape the shadow this time and come into the light. “Jasper,” she spoke. “The turtle’s name is Jasper, not Meanie,” she said later on when the shades were drawn again because of the intense sunlight. Too close to a Star, dancing to the beat of a different drum. “Maybe a Moon this time,” said Dr. Paul Mouse, still with switch in hand, if not a kane. Close enough. And a reddish rear was nearby too, plopped painfully on a central log and not facing away from a wall no longer. He will get his revenge.
Peter Oesso strolled down the beach, looking for shells. Shellman some called him. Then he found a miniature Venus of Willendorf and we were on our way…
—–
“That’s not a beaver down there, Dr. Mouse.” STOP
“Oh yes it is.”
Burro Alley
Andrea Stoorm (killer) and Duncan Avocado had a followup meeting to their first at Jim’s-later-Cory’s Club but it didn’t go so well. Multiple theories were tossed around with none settled on. Blue and red remain confused and muddled.
“I have to split this damn dopple town,” thought Mary Ricardo, walking away from it all. Dopple on dopple!
Unseen Alysha knew more than she let on.
She heard the alley whispers.
Real Life Burro Alley, Santa Fe, NM
Cory’s win
“Oh it smells *awful*, Buster,” Duncan spoke about the green pocketbook mounted in a display case on the side of the newstand. “Nothing new in there atall. Something *old*, and rotten. Smells like rancid sauerkraut to me, maybe mix in a little mustard. Can you imagine? My hands are turning redder just thinking about it. I need to amscray outta here! (reply/order). Red it is (*click*).” Duncan will have to stay a spell longer. TILE is strong here in Slaashsides-soon-to-be-part-of-Middletown, Buster believes. Continuing his pained face beyond the odor, he walks toward the subway, intending to turn himself in to Officer Davis Jefferson and his pseudo-supervisor Martha Wiggins for the murder of Hot Dog, then spill his confession at the merged jailhouse and mental institution later on. It’s the only way he can get the inside scoop. He purposefully bumps against Cory on the way down, one with the mother now. “Happy, bud?”, he asks sarcastically as he spots Jefferson and Wiggins at the bottom of a long long flight of stairs.
the one and the many (Lost Angels)
—–
“We’ve lost the Angels airport with the red Kentucky book, W. I can’t find a substitute.”
“Check SL Marketplace for heart chair.”
—–
“No go. We’ll have to ask Alysha.
The emergency vehicles at the airport in the same sim are gone too. The many and the gone.”
—–
“Think I found something: ‘wire chair’ instead…”
—–
“Boy, *Hidi* found it quick. But still no book. It’s not the same table and set of chairs. *Looks* the same… but different (animations).”
“Shoot. (pause after mild cuss) Might as well have her shop some more while she’s there. No harm in trying demons.”
“Demos,” I corrected.
—–
17 hours later:
“We’ll have to try something different.”
“No go on Angels, no go on Demons. Only one direction left.”
“The way of Norris,” I guessed. Neutrality.
Alysha
“She’s always over there just staring at the fire, waiting for him to come home and tell her what to do. Robot, I say. Completely controlled. *I* was the rebel. He didn’t like that.” She paused in her soliloquy to take a drag off her cigarette, a Virginia Slim I believe, long and lean on smoke. She blew what little she had away from the child sitting next to her, then turned. An Asian, she thinks. Just like Sally over there at the Coast Guard building. Could it be? She packed those suspicions away and sent them down a baggage conveyor. Nah: impossible. She’s just a lackey, not smart enough to live a double life, much less shrink down to child size if needed. This was just an innocent youth before her, a *friend*. She hadn’t had one of those in a while. Not since Bettie. Or was it Ruth?
So she decides to unload more. Why not: it makes her feel good and that’s what matters in the moment. Another drag off the slim cigarette; another pleasure. Today was the day for enjoyment, since this was her day off from that other job that’s suppose to bring joy but almost always doesn’t in the end. Except for Pete.
“The Fortress, it is called by some. Maybe John.” She stops; another drag, another exhale away from the child.
“Who owns it?” the child dared to venture, picking her openings carefully. She had to keep up the ruse. No time to get cold feet now. That will be later when she ices them down from the hot sand. Azura Beach! She truly loved this little hidden spot with its cute dunes just away from the Airport grounds. But she must remember her real task: digging for information instead of clams, although that would be later as well.
“K.C. some call him. Others: L.A. I think he likes to use the initials of famous cities. Maybe ones he’s visited.” She stares directly over at it, knowing the new gal, if you could even call her that, the robot, would be sitting in there, staring at the flames that would certain consume her just like they did herself. A witch, they called her, and then she had to live in that ditch behind the airport for a couple of months until she was able to at least rent this cottage on the edge of his property. He had at least the dignity to do that. And he’s probably just keeping her around when he gets tired of the new one, with her more ample bosom and brown-not-blue eyes. He tired of blue, he tired of normal. And always with the golf club; might as well be a baseball bat the way he cracks it. Always plays the odd numbered holes and skips the even. Then in the evening he evens it out with the even holes. Complicated man. And she could still spy on him, but of course that’s what he wanted. He wanted her to see the new gal-robot and how he controlled her just as she was controlled. “Look,” he could hear him say with his smokey, deadpan voice in her head, “and learn.”
(to be continued?)
secret schweet
And so we end where we began: on No Tor hill in Leemington seen in the distance in that last photo, following young Alysha around again searching for that ship of hers.
The hill is like an ant to her, in that she is her ant. She crawls forward, scrambling to the top, eager to have a better perspective on which to build further, view farther. Let’s zoom in.
Just gotta get up over this rock, *ugh*, and smooth sailing.
Good. She’s at the peak. Now to ratchet out the draw distance to the max and see what we have. MAX
She’s happy she can peer beyond the Green Between from Lower Austra into Upper Austra, most likely where Ruby Alien will be released day after Wednesday’s yesterday. I believe it will be the 5th. Doctor Paul Mouse will cave into local pressure and bring her to the proper authorities, meaning the actual, qualified doctors who are able to deal with such things. Check her out, let her go. Maybe she’ll make her way into the great, empty city of Perch-Mistletoe, she thinks it is called, a doorway between dimensions where one kisses another and won’t let go. She knows this is the two sides of herself, 13 to 13, evened out now; Nautilus (continent) complete. But it won’t be in this photo-novel.
Perch-Mistletoe
The continent remains a conundrum, a mystery. 32×32 sims, 41 times the size of Collagesity’s localized 5×5 we just exited back there. And that 5×5 is hard enough to understand as it is (!).
Alysha and SEAN Green, Mr. Michigan, look to one of the far corners filled out in the past two novels, with more Nautilus fun to come. NW NE SE and, with this one, SW. Jeffrie Phillips in a Santa outfit floats on Little George Lake — or just Lake — waiting for 2 blue eyed pools to become one blue eyed pool so that he can proceed with the examination of the Arkansas book, which appears to be the same as the Oracle. He’s taken it back to Collagesity still in the middle of it all, or at least Lower Austra. He’s starting to study it intently, with help from sometimes wife, sometimes girlfriend, always lover Charlene the Punk Brown, currently rocking a hot pink babydoll for him. They’ll probably remain childless though; he has too many mistresses on the side, which Charlene allows now, or rather puts up with. *Barely*.
She takes off the babydoll, intent one more time to get Jeffrey to forget about all those others.
END OF “COLLAGESITY PHOTO-NOVEL 26”!
PHOTO-NOVEL 27
Lost Angel
We begin where the last one ended. On a map of Nautilus continent in my Collagesity skybox, the full view this time. Because this go ’round we’re going to tackle the whole thing. We’re not at one of of those nodal photo-novels yet but we’re closing in. Preparations must be made. Alysha jumps off the pin representing NO Tor and proceeds northward, intending to find Ruby the tall, green alien, perhaps Martian but also perhaps not. The qualified doctors would know, but Dr. Mouse the unqualified as it turned out, doesn’t have access to that information, that file. Ruby Alien remains, thus, a…
the farm of the Deep South is a seemingly pattern-
“I found it! Now go tell Alysha.”
“She’s *your* friend.”
—–
“Whaddaya think? What does it say? Can you read it? Is it too blurry? Do you need to borrow my reading glasses?”
“Nah. Fine.” She turned another page, and then she turned 10. The rock wall.
“I’m sooo excited.” (*sip*)
red white BLUE
Alysha quickly found out there were no other Asians except herself in this village of 765 above the northern shores of Starfish Lake/Sea. Officer Herbert Brownstone gave her a steady stare as he passed the window of the coffee shop walking his regular beat. He made a note she was reading something, and that she was with an avatar dressed up like Santa Claus, perhaps her father but perhaps not. He would double back in about 15 minutes and check again, perhaps go in this time and ask a couple of questions while being nonchalant about it. “Where do you hail from, little girl. *Hell*?” Nah, that kind of joke would work with the joes down at the squad house. But not in public. Not after Santa Fe.
Seeing someone different and stand out-ish in the village always made him think of Big Smoke. The courts told him and his blue buddies they couldn’t call him Big *Black* Smoke any more, although he definitely *was,* pheh. On vacation now, he’d heard. Maybe he won’t come back this time. Probably visiting his brother or his cousin who lives somewhere down below the Lake, he thinks. Policepeople like to keep tabs on those that are different. He’d heard rumors there was a gay now out in Sector N above the church and mortuary. Perhaps time to expand his beat to take in Burro Alley again.
tale tale
“It’s the Fortress all right,” he im’ed Alysha remotely. “I’m standing directly beside 300 over in Eveningwood.” This is where Duncan A. entered the Sphere through Fieldon, he thinks to himself. This is where Marty probably followed him. All the way to Borneo which wasn’t Borneo any longer. The Oracle — predicted this.
“I tried to get through the gates,” Alysha im’ed back, still in the northern Nautilus village with the one black and the one rumored gay. “15 sec ejection period.” She then leaned back against the cool stone of the well also pondering the next move but along different lines. The buildings were duplicates but — what did this mean?
Eveningwood
Northern Nautilus
trail’s end
“Black and *gray*?” Alysha could hear Officer Brownstone yell from outside after absorbing Officer Taylorville’s correction. “Not black and *gay*?”
She had to act fast, as they would be all over new alien intrusion like flies on, um, honey. She could, she could steal this police motorcycle to delay their cause. No, she realized. Too extreme. She could, um, set boobietraps in the catacombs so they couldn’t use the shortcuts. No: too sexist. Deep inside she was a woman after all as well as an Asian. She’d just have to use the catacombs herself to get to the Fortress quickly and warn Ruby.
—–
She took a deep breath. All she had is 15 seconds to find Ruby, convince her that she was in danger, and then teleport the hell outta there to somewhere else, perhaps Collagesity but perhaps not. Anywhere safe for the time being. She decided any beige mountain ridge would do, because about all of it is abandoned land. Aah heck, let’s make it Collagesity, since that’s her home base. She begins dashing again, puff puff puff.
—–
“We have (*huff*), *three* seconds to get out of here to safety. “Two… one… too late.” But Alysha stayed where she was and wasn’t ejected from the property, potentially all the way back to home base. Ruby the green tinted gray grey nonchalantly rolled over in her sunlounge beside the heated pool and began to explain in her watery, alien voice. “We… turned off the security system as soon as we saw you run through the gate, young Alysha.”
“Young?” She couldn’t help herself. The woman deep inside demanded respect.
“The police have no power over us here. Do you even know where you are? I’ve… been searching for the Fortress for several weeks. Luckily my legs are very long and I made good time. Burt, also known as Brutus or Brut, met me at the gate, took me in. Just like we’re now taking *you* in. It’s been a long journey for you, hasn’t it? Fellow alien.”
still life with lemons
“You see, once I get the location and then the proper people it all flows pretty freely. I usually can’t go back and edit, and if I do I usually revert it to the original language. Just clean up stuff is usually all that’s permitted, some tense correction and such — sometimes.”
“Fascinating stuff,” replied Dr. Mouse in his always slightly sarcastic tone to Collagesity town leader Jeffrey Phillips — *still* leader, despite the recent death, thanks to Wendy and the wedding vows, which have been renewed several times since. It is good that he is attached to her. “But we’re not here to talk about how you create blog posts in this here Sunklands. Instead we need to talk about the *girl*.”
Jeffrey Phillips tried to figure out which girl. He didn’t want to embarrass himself (again!). “Yes, she *is* a problem,” he decided to say.
“Problem?!” spat back Mouse. “Salvation more like it (!).” Dr. Mouse waits a beat, allowing Phillips to deliver his next line. He looks over at the top of his cane resting against the table edge. He decides to slightly suck at the roughage sticking to his teeth. Hydroponic vegetables — not his dish. Give him some red meat and a side of something else with meat in it any day. Jeffrey Phillips has obviously forgotten his lines. He glowers a bit at him, even. Shoot, he’ll have to improvise. I doubt Ronald would want to reshoot this late in the day. “Yes, like I said: *salvation*. We’re obviously talking about Ruby Alien here.” Dr. Mouse keeps staring and the actor (Jim Hayseed) through him. Go ahead and bring up *Alysha*, he simmered internally.
“I…” he sputters, “think we’re actually then talking about…”
“Alysha, right,” answers Dr. Mouse for Jeffrey Phillips. Finally back on script.
Fife
“Carrot… radishes,” Ruby Alien recites for Alysha down below, perhaps at roughly the same time as the Dr. Mouse-Jeffrey Phillips interaction one floor up but perhaps not. Maybe later in the day. Wait… Dr. Mouse was thinking back there that the shooting day was almost done. So let’s go with the “roughly the same time” framework. The light (Still Life) seems similar, etc.
“Yes, in Space you can play around with combinations, not worry about Earthly standards. And over there, a tomato pepper.” She points to the far array of plants in this particular greenhouse enclosure of the Mars or Mars-like base.
Ruby Alien glances nervously out the window into the surrounding dunes. The nearby big red mushrooms have dissolved into irresolved triangles. “The… fidgety one. He will — return?”
“Yes, don’t worry about him, Ruby my friend. My *alien* friend.”
“*Fellow* — alien,” Ruby corrected in her measured manner. She was slow but certainly not dumb. She knew she was safe — for now — in this airy place in the sky above the Angels airport. She was not lost now except to the ones she was suppose to be. Alysha had reassured her several times that the nervous policeperson outside was merely a prop, and a buffoonish one at that, ready to shoot his foot off for a certain number of guffaws. “He comes with the territory,” she said. “This airy hill or mount.”
“Cut!” Ronald shouts from the side. “Done for the day!”
00270401
“Missouri or Arkansas? I’m going with Arkansas because of the redness (of the book). But maybe…”
“Missouri instead,” I completed for him.
“Michigan?!” shouted George from the side.
—–
I knew there was only one way to find out. Purchase the monster book on the marketplace and then… open. Chapter 1 (potential): “Marble Falls, Marbles Fall”. A blue marble seems to have fallen out of the cover, leaving the monster with only one. But maybe the title is misleading.
“Chapter 1,” Alysha read later in the red book before her while she was sitting in the heart shaped chair, or a heart backed chair. Make sure it doesn’t turn into a spade, I thought for her.
—–
She was at the monkey. “Marble Falls, Marbles Fall”, she said again, staring at the reversed image, a shadow if it was beneath her feet. “A heart becomes a spade.” And so it begins.
00270415
He placed a call himself: for help. “SOS,” he exclaimed to the girl who was not a girl on the other end, a friend this time instead of a fiend. “I’ll be there at 7 past 11.” She was currently resting against a rock wall, reading a red book and eating a red heart tart for health and good being. She was balanced. Actually it could be either of two girls, Alysha or Billie Jean Kidd. Let’s go with Alysha Billie Jean Kidd Alysha. She packs up her book and heads down to the police station to steal a bike. She tries to put Ruby the green Grey alien out of her head, the matter being out of her hands. “She’ll be fine,” she calms herself. “I can do this one thing without worrying about her. Kolya is important too!” By the time she arrives at the station through the shortcut tunnels a cooler head prevailed and she just takes a rented boat over to the other side of the continent from the 765 Village. Paperweight was the destination, which had strong resonance with Paperville from a couple of photo-novels ago, perhaps 3, maybe 5 back (it was 7).
Kolya was in his thinking chair under the Wasteland sign when she arrived.
“I’m – so – *wasted*, Alysha.”
“No you’re not.”
“You’re so kind.”
“Yes I am. *Now*. Let’s go take a peek inside that Monster Book over there and see what we’re potentially dealing with.”
“Okay.” Kolya had moved away from Saturn and more toward Jupiter. Wendy had been right about cheering effects of the girl.
(to be continued)
00270416
Kolya also claimed the larger bamboo house at the very center of the sim owned by the same rental company. 128/128, he thought, standing upon it. This will be *my* center as well. I can finally find myself, see who I am. He looks around.
“Shells? No no no no no. I’m through with shells.” Alysha manifested in the chair below the indicated art, helping him out again.
“You need to focus on the *monster*, Kolya. *Can* — you do this?”
Kolya remembers the name friends call him: Can. This was a friend. They, together, were looking for not necessarily a foe but indeed a fiend, removing one important letter from the equation. He(-she) had been here a long long time; Kolya was picking up on that as well. Black Lake. Circle of 4. He knew that the lakes would attract him, tiny to not so tiny. He must make a map.
“You must make a map,” Alysha spoke back, in his head as well but also with her mouth.
—–
He soon determined that this was the Black Lake in question, not the other more rounded water body just to the west. And it was more symbolic than anything. But he was not in his actual form any longer. He had turned into a painter. Oil me up, I suppose.
more Paper…
The description just said “Shadow Girl”.
“Alysha?” he called up.
Then she was there with him, staring into what appeared to be the heart of the swamp taking up a big chunk of the sim. Chunkey was its name; perhaps a Chuckey within, without the “n” this time. Alysha would know. He asked her.
“Yellow fellow,” she replied, noting the sun was coming up. Soon safe to move.
“Yellow?” He looked over at Alysha, noted her race.
She took the note and ran with it. “Not that kind of yellow. Say you had a soda, you shook it up. What would happen?”
Kolya imagined an explosion. He said this.
“Correct. Imagine this explosion *inside* someone.”
—–
She turned shadowy again. Kolya followed her out into the swamp itself, from whence she came.
He understood she was receding. Only armed with a minimal amount of info (probably enough, though), he was on his own again. In this Paper-y sim that this time wasn’t either Paperweight or Paper itself. A different Paper.
On to the sim rim swamp shack.
assimilation (growing the behemoth)
Later:
“Tell us about the failure of the Pooping Pigeon (franchise).”
—–
She was in enemy territory and she knew it. If only the good doctor had been able to successfully remove the black. But it is what it is now.
Oh no! Not Pooh too!
Pippin on head (Pinhead)
“You’ve lost your supreme whiteness, Rabbit. Better get back to the dressing room and find that head.”
“Yes, mum.”
“Sir,” she corrected. Although a woman she was playing a man. Always.
Listening grown up Alysha was in disguise now. The black hair aided. See what I can do when unaided, she thought to the group around her, having purposefully misplaced the White Rabbit’s head with her mind. Ear Power go!
There was at least one more here around the table. Crude and rude, he asked where the f-ck the caterpillar went off to.
Calvin was soon replaced by Horace, a proper White and causing no trouble atall. The hands *are* the clock now. Time control. History revision.
White out.
00270607
Buildy Bob assumes a cone position atop the ice cream truck. “You don’t belong the f-ck here, I’m sensing.”
“No,” she stated plainly. BB was about the only character here she trusted. Crude and rude, true, but that showed his true colors, rainbow exposed. Diversity. No white out.
“Where’re you from, then, Pinhead?” He’d been calling her Pinhead ever since he saw diminutive Mary PipPIN land on her HEAD from the perspective of his roaming camera eye. Most, maybe all of the other characters in this here Land o’ Dreams don’t roam like that; stay fixed in their position inside their head and body. Not BB. He wanted to know the bigger perspective.
“I landed in a balloon,” she decided to say. “From Kansas,” she almost followed, but then remembered Omaha was actually in Oklahoma Nebraska. Or was it? “Nebraska I’m from,” she finalized. “World’s Fair.” State fair she meant there but she let the stated mistake stand. She should have thought things through sooner, maybe written down her lines beforehand. At least she had the (built in) black hair for the ears. And where were her ears? There.
“Oh we’ll get Oz don’t you worry,” he said a little later about another potential assimilation, using “we” in an ironic sense. Why do they put up with him? she wondered again. Allow a breathing, walking Achilles Heel right in their midst?
“It’s too early,” she corrected. “The (Baum) books are copyright free. Plumly is different.”
“Don’t start with me about *Ruth*.” And where *was* Ruth, BB thought bitterly, looking around as if she could appear magically in their immediate vicinity. And perhaps she could. This was a Magic Kingdom after all; anything goes, as long as you worship the White. “Have you seen Willy, yet?” he then asked, thinking of the only other interesting *deviation* from this parade of madness. “Riding a steamboat. But I think he’s changed his name to Kelly to protect the innocent and all. Which means him — primarily. And me I suppose. He’s a pretty decent fellow, but scared and nervous, as he should be. They can’t fully assimilate him because he represents some kind of *ur* character, a primordial man-mouse of some sort. Don’t ask me how to explain all the details of it. It’s just they can’t fully *touch* him. He remains both black and white. Pansy knows.”
Pansy, thought Alysha here. I haven’t heard that name for a long long time. Not since childhood.
(to be continued)
Collagesity to end
“The proximity of Diamond to Ruby in the Virgin Islands, is telling, Sally. Can I still call you Sally?” He turns, notes the slight tinge of blue in the hair. Dusk now, soon to be dawn. And in-between… well, Charlene doesn’t need to know anything about it, let’s say. Starfish Lake (or Sea). The Motel without the ending “l”. Couch instead of bed. But it’ll do for the job. He’ll think of explanations (for Charlene) afterwards. Must – go – back.
“You may.” He took that in a double way and moved onward.
“And you’ll note in the background, the — distance, that there’s another Diamond. Diamond 02 as opposed to Diamond 01. And *both* Diamonds are near a Hope (Hope 01 and Hope 02), indicating ring.”
“I’ll get it,” spoke listening Kolya from the back.
“Not now, Kolya,” Jeffrey Phillips in front said, laughing. “It’s just a metaphor.” Sally was also snickering but tried to at least cover her ruby red mouth with her ghost diamond white hand to disguise.
“Oh.”
Jeffrey Phillips now pointed upper right with his cane finger. “Parasol,” he indicated. “Opening for her to come back,” he explained further about the presence of the pin marking the small Virgin I. village on the map. “Umbrella,” he spoke more back to Kolya. “But don’t open it or there’s a chance more rain will pour into your brain.” Less snickering this time from Sally. She truly felt sorry for Kolya and his holey headed condition and thought new-ish lover Jeffrey Phillips had taken it too far this time. She forcefully halted her smile, turned to Kolya as well to show her serious face, perhaps inserting a schweet secret smile upon it in place of the wry, even mocking one.
With this, Kolya remembers the move from Lower to Upper Austra again and the search for the green grey alien. Ruby. Just like the map. But how to phrase to avoid more mocking? At least from Jeffrey, Kolya thinks. Jeffrey remains undeveloped, but perhaps this new-ish gal Sally — Newgent he thinks, similar to new gal — *can* help him. *He* can help him. He can. He: Can.
Alysha was by *his* side. Alysha reached over and held his hand, knowing she was the one. She’d grow up soon enough.
(END OF “SUNKLANDS PHOTO-NOVEL 27”!)
PHOTO-NOVEL 28
circle (blue in center)
“Kolya,” she gasped, sensing him from far away.
—–
There she is, the Aldebaronian A.O. thought. My perfection, my *opposite*. But what’s this? An *intruder*. Not on *my* watch.
He decides then and there to defeat this adversary to his true love’s hand, hidden in shadow behind that right hand stone in the above photo. Later he uncovers his real name: Jon Deere. “Mow him down,” he reiterates at the time. “Like corn.”
seeing green
The wastelands of my mind.
—–
“I call them the Glory Holes, Alysha, because, you see, 2 are in Glory (sim) and the 3rd is just over the line in Shining Sea. I thought you might like to see.”
“Oh Kolya, do you even know what that means?” After investigating the 3 small bodies of water a bit more, she leaves somewhat disappointed: 1/2 and 1/2. Will he ever grow up? she thinks after returning to her rotating square alone. Probably not; the holes will remain what they are and nothing more. Gathering pools for rain water.
I *think* she liked them, ponders Kolya afterwards.
personal assistant
He next decides to catch up with Hidi; show off his discoveries on the new continents of Bellisseria to her as well. He watches the glossy, shiny wave of Treeowatoor roll in while she speaks.
“How’s Alysha, Kolya? Have you caught up with her too?” Hidi knew he did. The two girls, *ladies*, keep in touch with each other as well. Both waiting. And waiting.
“Yes. I showed her some holes.”
“Ohh?”
“Yes. Glory Holes.”
“Realllly.”
“Yes, they’re down at the stilts continent, another new landmass made by the Lindens our overlords.”
“Not *my* overlords. But *do* go on.”
“3 bodies.”
“Yess?”
“Of water.”
“Oh.” Pause as the wave crashes both figuratively and literally. “I guess you know, then, she’s on a spaceship. She’s a controller. She’s *the* controller.”
“Spaceship?”
“Yes, Kolya. What did you guys talk about on your visit? Just holes? Watery ones?”
“Basically,” he said, seeing nothing wrong in what he did. But: spaceship. That kind of intrigued him. He wished he’d asked about it now.
“She *may* have a boyfriend. Does *that* interest you Kolya?”
He looked over at her, wry smile on her cartoon-ish lips. But he knew she wasn’t a cartoon and this was Wendy before him, wife of Jeffrey Phillips, one he couldn’t have and couldn’t hold. Except in dreams. The dreams still came.
—–
“More paperwork for you ma’am. This comes from, let’s see, Merk over in Records. Quite a bit here, in fact.”
“Just put it with the rest,” commands Alysha, tired of working for the day. She starts to dream. She starts to envision herself in the square again. In space.
not understanding collage
“I’d like to buy a vowel please?”
But collage he did anyway — despite of or perhaps even because of the rising Boos danger. They started conglomerating in the center of the critter laden place, coming together to make an ultimate decision. Should he stay or should he go. Holey Kolya listened and watched from the side, not quite grasping what was happening. But he knew they were talking about him. And someone called The Wizard.
Grown up Alysha begins. “I have so many papers to grade,” she speaks into the microphone after teleporting in from Darkewood. “And I’m soo sleepy.”
“The rain gets in (his head),” said Hidi just afterwards, lowering herself a bit from Alysha’s position in order to speak directly from her heart. “But I love him.”
She turned to Kolya with this. “In his *dreams*.”
Front and center Lemon and his less positive bud Lime were next. This was the crux of the matter, one up and down and the other side to side. How to coordinate (worlds)?
“Here,” Lime said. “Let me at least get this out of your back while I’m hugging you.” But like with the King Arthur legend the knife stayed put. For now.
Zo still
Alysha took the hint. She reckons *she* is the angel. And also the angle; 1/2 and 1/2. Right?
She must think about Austra again, and its division into Upper and Lower and where that’s heading. Not up here that’s for sure. Too north. Rooster’s Peninsula is different from Austra. But how? Shelley’s castle will provide us clues. It’s all set up over in Lebettu, which we’ll get back to shortly.
Shelley’s castle; Roost Peak in background
This must be the Heart Queen’s bar where Broken Heart Jackie made her that Bloody Mary which turned her back into red, thump thump thump. She sat down — no bartender in sight still, just a chinchilla drinking something out of a half coconut, perhaps a piña colada she rationalized. It made her think of Kolya and him drinking the same in, where was it, the Aviary she believes. Or maybe his glory holes, pheh… maybe it wasn’t Kolya at all, maybe it was one of her other men, the ones without the visible head gaps. Hole exploration: it was a whole ‘nother story. The Controller’s papers piled up and up, reaching all the way now to Rooster’s Peninsula.
And here she was, going too far again. “Last sip!” squealed the chinchilla, and noisily finished the drink, suck suck suck. There would be no more offered today.
Nothing left to do but to take a nap.
glory hallelujah
It all seemed to make sense to her now (as the Controller). Easy as 1-2-3.
She reaches for the phone to ring up Kolya. She’s ready.
“Yelloo?”
“Hi. It’s me.”
—–
“Hmph. Never showed up.”
end/beginning
He turned one last time to the door before leaving.
—–
“No more shells,” he rather commanded to Alysha in a role switcheroo, fed up with being treated like a toddler. “*I* am real (this time).”
“Okay.” But of course the holes remained. Glory could only be glimpsed, but maybe it was worth it. Afterwards his neck hurt like a mo fo, but he doesn’t think it is about what they did.
Alysha ponders afterwards: Kolya *can* get better. If he changes into Windmill, hmm. Bit older, but what can you do? And then the diagonal can be traced all the way to Maebaleia — where we are now. Self image.
no man is an island
I think I’m going to like this peninsula. A lot.
—–
Boy my neck has sure been bothering me lately. Must be the lingering effects of Kolya and his trip to Anastasia, the damned place. Controller my big old ass. Papers piling up, pheh. Always sleepy, constantly nodding off. (Alysha) needs to come *here* and try what she does there. Wouldn’t make it.
But Windmill Man, actual name still being processed, knows that he loves her nevertheless, just like Kolya. Even moreso, since he can see the future clearer. He is the ONE. He is the whitehead in da woods. 1 year and 3 months. He can do it. The diagonal linking East and West will be fulfilled, reality connected to another reality inside it, with one blending into ANOTHER. Love, most likely. Death too, if not bodily. But what, exactly, *is* the body. The neck’s calmed down now. He recalls something about Jasper.
These ruins hold stories. And so close to his castle too. Just up the ridge.
planets
There’s always a give and take to things. Misty MO will always be connected to Yaya Land: Misty MO > Yaya Land. The former may have created the latter, if that makes any sense. The religious nuts might know. If I could find one.
Here I am, on the new edge of the world, staring at Neptune (seen) and Pluto (unseen) jointly. Fern would like it here. If she weren’t blocked by Uranus. I’ll have to talk to the main part of her core, this Wendy Wheeler Wilson. Or maybe Ruby Alien, 1/2 and 1/2. Who will it be tonight? Alysha even? Do I know her yet? So many questions.
“I’m here. Sorry I’m late. I was deciding what outfit to wear for the occasion and just went with the simple one. Hope you still like it.”
“Bluebird.” He’d forgotten about his main girl, his little chickadee.
She sits down beside him and starts talking about how she’s going to really change this time and put the Boos away. We’ll see.
no rats
Yeah, in staring at the sign again, Dr. Mouse realizes he’s never been on this Paper-Soap property. Wonder why.
He’s a bit drunk tonight but still resists the urge to explore the offerings of the Lucky Motel, because he knows it is really not that atall (*hiccup*). Plus he’s kind of got a relationship with the ex Wheeler/Wendy again. Moving on…
—–
Let’s go back to the big Nautilus continent map and see where we are. We started in Center (01) with the visiting of the Ur-parent’s graves, and worked our way up to the Aviary (02) where both Alysha and Hidi testified against Kolya as it were, almost eliminating him from our story, then quickly followed by Rooster’s Peninsula (03) where a nifty castle was established that may well replace Collagesity itself in our continuing Second Lyfe adventures. As you can see, these three basically equidistant locations form a line essentially running directly north, right to edge of the map and thus the continent.
But in the second half of the present photo-novel (XVIII), we have focused away from Nautilus to other, mostly non-mainland locations, like Paper-Soap. It’s as if the establishment of the castle provided us with a new anchor and then we moved on. So the question is: Is the more southern Collagesity now *toast*, at least for a while?
We haven’t even seen Collagesity leader Jeffrey Phillips in the current story yet. Perhaps that should change; he should have a say in all this.
(to be continued)
switch (again)
She stayed back, hesitant, while he moved forward, bold and brash and most likely naive. Poor Kolya, she thought. He can’t see the Overlord right in front of his face. He’d been warned (*sip*).
He was happy with his refreshed lemonade in the moment and had no other concerns. He doesn’t recall anything about the operation, she thinks. The holes still exist, although certainly not glorious any longer. He remains (dot dot dot) damaged goods.
There was only one thing for it. Another ring.
“Yelloo?”
“Herbert. It’s me.”
3 2 1
One year and 2 1/2 months. Herbert can do it.
Jacob I. had fallen asleep once more at the Prog Rock Museum located on the neck of Rooster’s Peninsula. Herbert’s neck hurt again… Anastasia, he thinks. Alysha. Things have changed. She gave him a ring and he gave her one back. It was the only way to end the madness.
He thinks of the Diagonal across the Chalet sub-continent of Bellisaria, as it’s called by many if not most. Snowball in Hell at the center, but heading to Scratchy — reality. Not in a Second Lyfe any longer. Retirement. Wholeness; fulfillment. Perspective.
Collagesity will remain… across the Diagonal and into the Great Beyond at the end. I will not keep Shelley’s Castle on the peninsula, although it’s a perfect *perfect* fit. Hmm.
NOPE. Collagesity should remain.
—–
He extends his draw distance and spies the castle in the distance. It’s the wrong one, but that’s okay. It’s fitting only 1 remains.
PHOTO-NOVEL 29
