The lake is just silver shores now. Debbie is gone; the situation had changed. He had Joey now. Time to head back to the underground, check on Joey, check on *Bart*. If he starts to stir again he should be there. Too bad Debbie can’t help since she’s better at recording. But she has the library gig now, she explained a bit earlier, before the mist moved in and turned everything metallic. “I… love…” he confessed, and she just POOF: gone.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0312, Wendy-Ontario
“Good evening, Debbie. How are you doing tonight?”
“Been here long?” she asked her brother originally husband Dickie. “I… couldn’t decide what to wear. I just ended up coming as your sister. *Simplify* is what I say.” She takes another sip of her espresso, looks out the window.
“That’s Lake Ontario,” says the brother formerly husband. “Halfway here, halfway there.”
“Isn’t everything these days.” They sip in unison, tacit agreement with each other.
They catch up. Dickie fills in Debbie about Joey Avatar and Black Bart and the man who’s perhaps responsible for most evil in this town of Ontario which seems to be Ontario itself, one James or Jim L. Brown. “Pusher if not a taker,” he elaborates. He instinctively feels for his wallet again.
“Drugs?” she responds, glancing about the place to make sure no one was around still.
“Implied,” he said. “Through the indicator (Dasher).”
“Hmm,” she said, thinking of nothing else to say. It *couldn’t* be that simple. Pan-Z or Pot-D surely had more complicated reasons for being here. But she’s simplifying; maybe they are too. Ditching the paranormal aspect.
“You?” he said to fill the gap. “How’s Lorsters Worst going?”
“Oh I’m not there any more. Elisa took my place there.”
“Elisa?” He sipped, recalling her from other assignments. She always requested to be a red clad lady of the night. He thought she secretly just wanted to be a hooker outright, forget the force or group or whatever they’re calling our collective these days. He says his thoughts aloud for his sister.
“Could be, (sip). My theory: they let me out of the gig because I couldn’t find what was behind the purple door.”
“Elaborate,” he requested. His coffee was done. Time to light a fag. Fags always got his organizational brain going after a prerequisite caffeine boost. The more smoke filled his eyes, the better he could see.
“Oh dear,” she said, seeing the tears and redness. “Let me get you a rag.”
“No no, it’s just the smoke. Helps me think.” He continues to organize his thoughts and tear up, redness increasing. But he’s about to come up with something. He bursts out crying, finally putting the cigarette down. He loves his sister, he realizes. He never got beyond being the husband.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0311, Wendy-Ontario
Dickie had solved the mystery. A man, walking in a cycle, runs into him if he stands in front of Jim’s counter and pushes him to the corner, where he then leaves him and dashes diagonally across the road.
About 2 minutes later he’s back, pattern repeated. Again and again this happens. Did Jim set this up on purpose so customers wouldn’t loiter? he thinks.
The morning light was increasing. He had to find Joey Avatar to talk to her about the shoes and some other important things. Like their prospective date tonight. He doesn’t think he’s up for it. Besides, that apple juice he just bought from Jim was not quite agreeing with his stomach. Perfect excuse for backing out. “I’m sick, babe,” he rehearsed in his head. “Jim?” he imagined her saying, because he was responsible for the bulk of things bad in town. He may even be the person behind the transmutation of Black Bart himself, Dickie realized in this created scenario. He then imagines going back to Jim, confronting him. Oops, there’s that guy pushing him to the corner again. Yes: convenient.
Jim L. Brown, he recalled. He makes a mental note to check what the L. stands for sometime, because he’s heard of another Jim Brown and doesn’t want to confuse the two in his continued investigation. A., he also remembers about the other. Jim A. Brown, with the A. standing for nothing, he recalls, even turning into B. at the drop of a dime, for no rhyme or reason. Maybe L. is just a progression of this, and stands for nothing itself.
Here comes the dasher again. “Merry f-cking Christmas to you too!” he called in turn, stepping aside this time. Dasher yes, hmmm.
He checks his wallet but it’s okay. The guy appears to be a pusher but not a taker. Hmm, again.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0310, Wendy-Ontario
“Hey, weren’t you just here 10 seconds ago,” Jim joked from behind the counter.
“Yeah… I was,” responded Dickie, confused in the moment. As I type this he may have moved back to the street corner about 10 yards away. Twice this has happened already.
“Lovecraft stuff, that’s what it is. Like with Black Bart. How’s the old creature doing anyway?”
Dickie thought back to his assignment. Rent an apartment in the underground, keep an eye on Black Bart downstairs. How’s that part of it going? he thinks sarcastically.
“Check your viewer again,” gruffed Jim Brown, poised to sell his first customer of the morning some 3 day old apple juice. Got one day more on that stuff, Jim thought. Then I’ll have to drink it myself. Jim knew he could dispose of anything — internally. That’s why he didn’t buy any garbage cans or bags when he rented the stall oh, about 3 years ago I guess. Brown comes from a long line of renters, not buyers.
“See what I mean!” he shouted to Dickie at the the corner, observing what happened all the time but not able or not willing to share the information right now. “You just stay right there!” he called again. “I’ll bring you a nice glass of apple juice to soothe your nerves!”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0309, Wendy-Ontario
Archibald woke up on top of trash. Typical. But this time his shoes were gone. He rises up and dangles the bare tootsies over the grate to the underground. Where he stayed, he remembered, either in Apt 1 or Apt 2. The only 2 down there, not counting Black Bart’s old place, which was unfit to live in at the moment. They must have dropped down through the grate while I was stirring in my sleep, he rationalizes, but then realized someone could have taken them, maybe the other from the underground. Black Bart? Nah, he’s gone; the rumors couldn’t be wrong what with all that happened before to the poor, pitiful dude. Joey his neighbor? Could be for a prank. They were kind of seeing each other and kind of not. It was one of those “it’s complicated” relationships. He recalls, in his hangover-ish grogginess, that she keeps seeing things bleed through from the other side. Like that yellow marker the other day that *wasn’t* a yellow marker. Like, well, *me*, he then thought, dusting the dust off his pants and standing. Portals — yes. The dream comes back. A girl went through who specializes in burger, then he emerges in this burg so he becomes her burger. Strange thought. He opens the grate and moves down the ladder, ready to confront Joey with the theft, careful not to step on anything sharp or slippery. Difficult, because there’s so many things like that about the place. The underground, pheh, he ruminates as his socked feet touch the bottom. And people thought that was only confined to the dreams man made. Man-made dreams.
He walks up the stairs to the viable apartments, not hearing anything behind Black Bart’s old one downstairs for a change. But he hasn’t much hope the silence will last.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0308, Wendy-Ontario
Face stitched up as best as possible, rescuers gone, Wendy finds the portal to neighboring Ontario through a void sim thanks to the help of Dickie and some indicating, howling wolves. Delight! Maybe there’s hope for the chesskers situation after all.
“Iowa,” she spoke back to Dickie while feeling the cold wind of reality blow on her wounded face, stinging it a bit. Close!
The library can finally be left behind. Dickie waves goodbye as the darkness envelops her, wolves silent with their task done.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0307, Wendy-Ontario
“This board must be broken Debbie. I can’t get black to move first.”
It was over in 13. White (Dickie (Archibald)) had no more to say. Sister Debbie retreated back up the cave tunnel from the meeting in the underground game room to her Hobbit Hill rental, pondering what just happened and the true nature of reality. *Why* can’t black start? Who goes first, what goes second? She doesn’t know; can’t figure it out currently. There must be a game of chesskers where the rules are reversed, she ascertains later, but only after the mission is done.
—–
“We’ve just got the one piece left,” Rescue John responded to Rescue Joe’s question about the face. “But it’s a crucial one. Looks like, let’s see, we’ve got a green eye instead of a blue to match the other. Asymmetry: can’t have it.”
“Boss wouldn’t be please,” Joe said back weakly, and looked into the distance from the top of the Gap toward the Hobbit Hill rental, toward Jer and Jem’s Ragged Rocks abode, toward Tar and Jey’s watermill home, and toward the cottage on the perch currently housing interns (Devil) Dave and Karoz straight from fabled academic mecca Crabwoo after their final exams were done and over with. He knows the answer lies out there somewhere. But here… they can only insert the wrong piece for now; no other way. He says this to John, who agrees to “finish” the process with a big sigh. “Green it is,” and crams it in despite the ill fitting nature of the thing.
Wheeler can see again.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0306, Wendy-Ontario
He decided to kneel in front of the crucifix and pray for a plot to manifest before him. Or around him — couldn’t hurt. Wheeler, who seems to have reverted to Wendy, a thought of obsolete character she plays — red headed — is *trapped*, perhaps by pirates. On this continent. Nautilus. It seems we go 2 steps forward then 1 back. Or is it the other way around? Both (he realizes). Wheeler Wilson is also Wilson Wheeler. Black is White, in a yin yang fashion. FUSION. That’s where they took her, these pirates. I realized I had to send another agent out there. Let’s see, who we got (in the closet)? Joey “The Venusian” Avatar is still working on that case over at Long Island. Where are we on that? Must have a meeting of the agents to keep up to date with the most recent information. Then Dickie Doom — and Debbie Doom; Dickie recently met with Jennifer M. Friend on Alien Island which seems to be a mispelling of Allen Island — misspelling — just like in the Oracle. And the Oracle is kind of back (!), death knells premature.
Baker stands as they go off again outside. Death for others if not himself, he knows. What is this world coming to?
—–
They reconvene down at Manolis on this small Greek paradise isle, a restaurant specializing in soups and subs in no particular order. They talk after ordering, sub for Baker Blinker and, of course, soup for Baker Bloch to balance everything out. “Someone will have to get married — again,” he puts forth in the brainstorming event.
“Axis and Wheeler, pheh. We tried that. 2 steps back 1 step forward. Then 2 steps forward and one back.”
“Yeah I recall,” Baker Bloch responds, thinking of the inky black car that needed to be manifest at the time for traction. Ratmobile or something. Black and evil whatever. Tropp and Treelor never stood a chance. Tropp! Baker then thinks, and says the name aloud for the female version of his type, his kind.
“Possibility,” spoke Baker Blinker before him. “I’ve been in Wheeler’s shoes, you know. I understand what it feels to be trapped. You, as a man, just don’t understand.” She looked around the joint, and all the men with their open mouths eating food, their lip smacking. “Might as well be *all* pirates,” she summarized her feelings in the moment.
“You are me and I am you,” Baker said, and even reached across the table to hold her hands, look steady in her eyes. “You are a beautiful girl.”
“Why thank you (!)”. This cheered her up. Suddenly the mouths were far away. She was thin, very thin, but that was just her build. And tall. Thank you! she thought again in her head. I’m beautiful too, she realized. Just not what, er, Axis wanted. Axis? Tropp? They had to make a decision about the groom.
Baker Bloch briefly thinks that he and Blinks should get married instead, revisiting an old subject that she pushed in early days, before the realization that they were closer than husband and wife, closer than brother and sister. They were one. True fusion indeed (already). He let go of her hands as the brainstorming continued.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0211, Nautilus, NORTH, Upper Austra^
She was back on the beach taking over the responsibility of reading *his* book while Allen floated in the sea a bit. Yellow floatie — instant attractor; which then placed similarly yellow Jennifer on his former beach towel. Archibald was not needed no longer since she had absorbed all he had to offer. She bid him well, departing with, “have fun with yourself,” knowing he already loved her a bit too. She had that effect, with the eyes and all, 9 to 10 legs, etc., etc. Perfection, she says to herself, not being boastful but just honest, she thought.
She wondered how chapter 1 could be in the almost exact middle of the book but there it was.
She read about a happily married couple who happened to be nudists and were about to join a related swingers club but for good, noble reasons and not the usual ones. They were trying to solve a crime, a murder, puzzle pieces still being arranged and put together. They then stare at red.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0205, Alien Island, Bay City/Nova Albion^, Nautilus, Sansara, Wild West
“Perhaps it’s not Alien Island but *Allen* Island.”
“Maybe.”
“Picture this, ahem: Allen Yellow, our “Alien, Yellow” from novel 13, actually got to marry his friend Jennifer he met at Misty MO and now they live here, at this condo tower. The island is named for him — he owns it, or mostly does.”
“Perhaps,” she reinforces, thinking they have other locations to focus on now. They have a name, whether it’s Alien or Allen.
“Maybe he accepts the name Allen — I think he actually does this in 13. He dons a helmet that has an extra pair of eyes and which makes him look like a frog, a big yellow frog.” He turns to look in *her* eyes, trying to determine a color. Green? Blue? They could argue about it all night and then wake up the next morning and start over again. She better take it from here…
“Do you love me still, Allen the yellow alien? My Alien, Yellow (snicker)?”
He couldn’t hear anything in that helmet but she knew he did.
—–
He tried not to look in her eyes, knowing the paradox lie there, the stuff of irreality. Instead he focused on the mission.
“What,” he starts, “does he know?”
“He swallowed the frog to Prince story hook line and sinker,” Jennifer M. Friend stated proudly. They were hiding out behind the office, away from prying eyes down at the beach, Allen’s included. He was busy with the book she recommended. A tome about Prince Isles formerly Frog Isles. And without any frogs atall, apparently. They vanished overnight! How could it be?
“He thinks,” speaks Dickie Doom playing the part of Archibald now, “the helmet is needed?”
“He’s worried he’s going to lose his frog-like nature as well. So he wears it all the time now to keep an eye on it. I sometimes turn down the volume on his ‘ears’, just so I can speak to him without him knowing, a kind of sounding board — bounce ideas off of him that he doesn’t need to know about or understand.”
Dickie Doom/Archibald doesn’t respond any more since his allotted 10 words are up. We’ll see if he has anything to add to this in the next post (checking).
No. He doesn’t.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0204, Alien Island, Kentucky, Nautilus, Wild West
Sunklands 