“I’m afraid something has gone wrong with my left, Foxtrot. Maybe it’s a sign we shouldn’t have returned.” Orange Foxtrot said nothing in reply even though he had a lot of opinions on the matter, small purple bud Octi too. Best to act like colorless zebras and X their mouths shut presently.
Oh if we’d only stuck with red green yellow blue, she lamented later, arm back to normal. For now.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0114, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^
Earlier:
“Thanks for letting me go first, Wheeler. I appreciate it.”
“Outta my way, BLEHHHH. Sorry!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0111, Lands End, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West
‘Big Red Machine,’ ‘Big Red Machine.’ *Here* it is.
No place to read — all seats taken, thanks to my colleagues in crime. Not crime — anyway, I’ll stand. I don’t mind. These 2 always seem to have the upper hand, testing this and judging or determining that. When I have the information in this book, things might change. Worth a try. Good, they’re not looking — absorbed in their own research.
Chapter 4: Twitch of the Morgan. Okay, getting somewhere. Um, hmm. (read read read). Ah ha. (scan scan scan) Getting late. The others seem bored. Better wrap this up, come back when I can ditch these two snitches — yes snitches. To the cause. I’ve found the book, that’s the important thing today. Fern is still looking around, almost as if — she can’t see me (!). Can they *hear* me? But too risky to test while she has the book. No need to attract attention to herself, whether she is truly hidden or not. She could become unhid, and whatever spell was cast on her by unknown powers (but probably Fern; maybe by accident even) wore off.
Okay, definitely getting weird here. Fern’s looked right at me several times now and it’s as if I didn’t exist (!). Ghosted somehow; Lichen the same. They seem to be finished with their own reading, kind of staring and glancing around. Probably looking for *me* I would assume, since we came in the same car or whatever. Carriage. The time is April through July, I know that. The day, the *century*, though, is unclear. Fern said this was a place we could research the hypercube, and better understand the link that is forming between 1st and 2nd lives. Great! I said, and Lichen also smiled across at me, knowing that Fern was onto something and this would be a better library experience than the one over in Dairocha Castle on Nautilus. This wasn’t Nautilus, oh no. This was the Orient by comparison. And me, me… Oriental. This is about me! Another test, most likely. But why?
The 9th and final chapter beyond the Great 8: gone. As if it had been ripped out by unseen hands. The crucial information! Soo sleepy. Fern and Lichen are still looking around. Sleepy. Eyes getting heavy. *Gone*.
“I don’t think Alysha is coming back,” Fern finally said, tired of the wait.
“No. She must have gone back to the carriage.”
“Carriage?”
“What-ever.”
Lumbering Big Red sitting nude with his big ass parked on the piano bench over there was finishing up Part 9 of his suite of compositions. Soon the spell would be over and Alysha would reappear, a bit confused but otherwise okay. But the book in her lap would have disappeared along with the music. One and the same.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0103, Dairocha, Mountain Lake^, Nautilus, NORTH, Omega^^
“I found something, W.”
“I did too (!). You go first.”
“Wellll.” STOP
START “You know how the last photo-novel ended in 256, when Norris, aka Harry finished downloading the entire Red Room, as Casey One Hole entered and saw his own Ass — edness.”
“Yeahhh?”
“I found the continuation. It’s a wormhole.”
“Funny.”
“How?”
“Not hahaha but hmmm… kind of funny.”
“Kind of funny or fully funny, in a hmmm way?”
“Do you want me to continue or not?”
what B., aka Baker Bloch found
“Okay your turn, W.”
“Oh, mine’s nothing in comparison. Really (!).”
“Try me.” Baker Bloch knew they worked better in tandem than separately. She’d found something.
“Okay (!). If you insist.”
“Just put a picture in the blog like I did. In this post.”
“What post?”
“You know what post.”
“I Don’t Know, hahaha.”
“Hmmm.”
“I know. I’m delaying. But for a reason.”
“*Where* did you find this? How about that to begin.”
“Morgan.”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0031, 0101, Hana Lei^^, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^
On a tip from someone in Squared Root City, she decided to confront them, this bigoted “Annaberg” audience, in a private public post. “Who are you!?” they cried from their respective positions after she had assumed not quite front and center stage but a viewing nonetheless. “A witch?! What bedevilment is this??!!” They studied her from their angles in the half darkness. Since red was involved, some of them wondered if this was the ancient hagg Morgan returned to them, who also goes by Morgaine and other similar words. They shuddered at the thought. They’d all read the legends, good and bad.
She realized they wouldn’t recognize her — in the present — without her beret on. She changed/she turned. The light on her face increased, emphasizing it over the rest. “You!!??” they cried even louder, seeing before them now the white woman associated with raspberries who loves black. “What *is* this??!!” they demanded.
“I am presenting myself to you as I am. One who has been tested for alien powers and abilities. One who is indeed part alien, as witnessed by my pink-ish skin, at least in comparison to you lot. One who has a vertical and a horizontal line up top. One who has a cylinder at the bottom, several in fact. One who has the colorful markings of a modern, because I am also that. I have fish, I have butterflies, I have hearts, I have writing, I have rings and stars, I have designs of odd origin. I am… me.”
This *is* Morgan, some had determined, since the red remained in the lone shoe on her feet, the left and not the right. And they were not wrong.
One also being tested dared to approach her through the mistletoed entrance with luckily a Julia and not a Julian, or else all would be too upset to continue watching and return home to view current black and white reruns of “I Love Lucifer” and such. They danced in complete sync as if on a granite hilltop between two sims. Then the N was regained and all went to hell. The bell was back.
“Let’s meet at your place instead,” past Hucka Doobie determined.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0701, Jeogeot, Lower Austra^, Mountain Lake^, Newtown, Omega^^, Squared Root City, Sunklands^
It was merely a black and white picture of an unknown town with one somewhat colorful tree. But then it came to life and we were somewhere else. Hermanly again, I would assume.
Yes: Hermanly. Axis-Windmill, who may be the same as Helmet Newton, tries to ignore the increasingly busier burg, knowing he could get sucked into the picture. Like Baker Bloch before him. I mean: Jeffrey Phillips. Man About Time panicked at being thrust into a leadership role, even though he desired it forever. He had to find Baker Bloch (!), but when he did he’d forgotten how he got there and how to get back home. He pointed aimlessly, trying to get his bearings, just like we saw Alysha scramble with in Squared Root City just a minute ago. Alysha had decided to seal off the black and white city in its own little room, handy if needed, but not viewable at any one time. Out of sight out of mind for the most part. Until Helmet was mentioned. It was time for Axis-Windmill to acquire a proper non-hyphenated name. We’ve tried out Brend but then that went to another character — two characters actually, twins, one blue and black and the other red and white. Perhaps live in this same city, even. But Axis-Windmill is not Brend.
The sound of horseless carriages was deafening.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0617, Crisp Sea, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Squared Root City, Wild West
With her kids shoes and grown up hair, Alysha was more red than ever. She even had a red door to her office here near the center of Squared Root City, where I’ve decided to end this particular section of “Collagesity 2020-2021 Winter”. But not the (photo-)novel itself — I don’t think. Haven’t quite made up my mind yet, actually. Anyhoot, we’re back, Alysha is in charge again, *not* Fern Stalin, and ditzy blonde Lichen Roosevelt is merely along for the ride, at least that’s what the other 2 think.
Alysha hangs up the phone. Herbert Glenn Gold is okay — she just wanted to check. April Mae is back in prison over in Collagesity. Good. She speaks to the people present.
“So you see, Lichen, Fern, we’ve been working on three different scripts ever since, well, I guess, since the last director left.”
“That’s *me*,” interjected Fern, still sharp as a tack. “Why are you *there* and I’m *here*?”
“Well, that’s the basic problem,” explained Alysha, the same age and also intelligence as myself, actually. A bit dimmer than Fern, perhaps, but one up on Lichen in that department. If only she had Lichen’s comic timing, though, she often laments. Back to business: “It started — or we picked up on it — with a phone call from this very town — just right over there at one of the coffee shops.” She tries to determine if she can see it from this direction but decides she can’t. Took her just a minute to get her bearings. Fern silently thinks she would know such a detail *before* the meeting started and not embarrass herself with such a thing in the middle. Lichen was thinking of an Abbot and Costello type dialog involving the confusion of “here” and “there”, but she hadn’t gotten very far. Fern can’t wait. She puts forth what she knows.
“So *I* have the blue script, since I’m ahead of everyone else — July apparently. “Then you have the white one in front of you there, Alysha — or you did — anyway, we can collage that in later — then Lichen has red — or pink — to end. Even further back. May.” She turns to Lichen. “May, dearest?”
“W-what?” Costello was about to find out the center fielder’s name was I Don’t Know.
“The date on the script, beautiful. May? April?” Fern then recalls it is actually April and continues with her theories, ignoring Lichen’s fumbling through the pages attempting to determine a date.
Alysha jumps in before the bazooka that is her mind starts firing again. “We are all one.”
“That’s what I was just about to say (!). We are all one core. Wheeler Wendy Wilson.” The full name — Fern *must* be serious, the other two think at the same time. “The 3 faces of Al — Anselmo.”
“Right, right,” Alysha tried again. “Ansel…”
“… also reverberates with Adams the black and white photographer, yes.” Fern with the upper hand again. She rarely loses it. Unless a name like Helmet Newton comes up. Which it did next.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0616, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Squared Root City
That girl over there, Priscilla Persley thought. How can she stand it? I mean, she’s got *coffee* at least, but: jees.
Claudia Curve turned her back on the “spectacle” as well, instead staring at another pretty Christmas tree and trying to pretend the world was going to be okay.
Rose Schultz stood at attention, knowing this was going to be a busy night for hot beverages. She was armed and ready. Despite the uptick, two should still do the job just fine. If only she’d wore her long sleeve uniform but it was in the wash, brrr. But that wasn’t the spectacle, that wasn’t the one. She couldn’t see it from her angle. Not yet.
Thank Gods the pigs have arrived, thought carver George Wash, tired of trying not to look. More people should arrive soon. Time to get her outta here.
“One Adam One, over.”
“Go ahead Eve Two, over.”
“We have a situation down at the frozen food court. Lady not cooperating with the, ahem, elements… over.”
A pause. “Should we send reinforcements? A coat? Over?”
“Copy that, er, she’s heading… she’s heading over to the hot beverage stand to refill her mug. Everything is going to be okay.”
—–
Upon a tip from Rose, her defense was it was all in the wash. All of it. The pig carver was arrested on the spot.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0604, Lower Austra^, Nautilus
“We died on that line,” spoke White Mage, rid of cursed blue and red. Now only purity. “That’s why we can go back and forth back and forth, not worrying about time.”
“Or space,” she dutifully finished, applying the last of her makeup.
But in truth she wasn’t ready to commit to death. She felt this could be an anomaly, a once in a lifetime opportunity. After all, the red still applied to her lips, the blue to her eyelids. They were still *fixed* in ways. She turned. “Pucker up, white boy.” If the red transferred to him, then (this world) might be real.
—-
later; downstairs:
She *thinks* it worked. She had fun trying anyway. She crossed her legs, prepared for whatever. “Turn around again, *Brend*. Let’s see.”
—–
“We must change your name from Axis-Windmill,” she spoke from the side, also observing. But me in this case. A 10 now instead of a 9. Good. We return to Squared Root City, she urged. No need to invoke karma in this place again. No need to even mention the name again. The Princess has spoken.
—–
So I go to another 23 23 — but not w/ a 3rd 23 — in a very different sim, but it’s the wrong time (again). Let’s take W.’s suggestion…
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0030, 0405, Heterocera, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Rose Heaven^^, Rubi^, Squared Root City
Sunklands 