This will be our spot Edward. Always sun in the middle of the day despite the highways overhead, and you can make it so any time of course. Waves crashing directly behind. I can lock Arthur away in the cage of my mind here. We play games but still we are together. Agreed?” Pause. The waves rose again.
“I said: agreed?!”
“O-*kay*, just don’t punch me again, jeez.”
“Good. Now let’s go down the beach and talk to some surfers.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0216, HANA LEI
They were deep in the portal and Edward was her chosen beau, if by default. No more Arthur, but for a good reason. Shelley packs her ring away and decides to dance again, but Eddie went too far per usual and it got him into trouble. Between crests of a wave, this can happen.
But the dancing then continues. Endlessly, thanks to this place.
“Cowabunga!” I suppose.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0214, HANA LEI
She was back at the very beginning, brushing her teeth in the middle of Hooktip, staring into umbrella eyes, all knowing even at that early stage. She had all the books in the world in ’em. Now to test it out on the rest of the world… starting with Edward here. Edward Daigle. But that was different — not Dimmy (Tommy), the actual person she started dating at that time. A choice was made on the ottoman below. She could ask him to stand up and move, or keep him there. On that spot. 135/135/135. Highest on *The* Diagonal, and she didn’t believe there was another one of those except as echo. And she should know, being ruler of it all.
“Mind if I brush?” she said just before. But not hair. That was different too.
In slow motion she prepared to spit.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0213, Heterocera, VHC City
Mr. Babyface’s big mouth on his huge head forms an O. He realizes he’s been staring at perfection all this time, volcano at top, familiar green green Xilted and its now grassy fields at the bottom. All answers lie here.
Al temporarily staying over at the Temple of TILE until they get a true custodian of the place was thinking along the same lines. Paradise found. His itchy and scratchy down there has suddenly and, to him, miraculously cleared up, even though it appears to be exacerbated especially by heat and it’s now basically the middle of the summer. Subtract the bit o’ heartburn which he’s not worried about (he’ll adjust his meal again tonight to further pinpoint the issue), he realizes he hadn’t been this healthy in years. From this center of power combining present past future, he wonders what’s next for Shelley, for Arthur and Edward, for Mr. Babyface and whoever shows up to be his companion and sounding board for more Big E/Big Schwa theories in the Kidd Tower, perhaps old lover Greg Ogden (who can still change into green green Gregg Oden when provoked), or maybe nephew Peter Ladd, a cousin of Lamb’s Paul and thus from a different mother, even though they both call Babyface Uncle.
Mr. Babyface has the impression that Shelley and her boat boys will be moving out of the top of Kidd Tower soon, tired of the limited space there. Soon, then, his dining room and his staring chair will be backed by (the map of) Zebrasil not Xilted, as he moves out of W (lower) and X (upper) back to Y (lower) and Z (upper). That’s his hope.
In other locations, Mr. Z has dropped his backpack and its many masks collected over both real and virtual continents in the second floor of Crooked, determined to make it a home too, as well as a space to further the TILE study group he wishes to jump start here in town. The standing yellow ickle just below is sure to follow; another Lamb — and a needed 4th color to balance the other 3, red green blue. We’ll soon see.
But Mr. Z has a journey to make first. He additionally senses he must unite public north and private south into one to make Constantynople and Constance Island as a whole truly fulfilled; be made a *constant*. Myrtle Beech must be visited. And he needs to get the lowdown on the whereabouts of his own cousin Zimmy.
But I forget. Mary, the third member of Lamb to add to Peter (different from Peter Ladd) and Paul, is already here! And so is hubby Pitch Darkly. They’re established at Darkly Manor, their old home from Collagesity back in the days, back when it was set up right next door to the sacred Rubi Woods. Through a transparent upstairs wall they could stare directly into the many linden trees, the cypress 1’s and 2’s, the eucalyptuses, and, most mysterious of course but only occasionally, perhaps only that one time, Unch himself, the fabled 200th tree of the forest, the one that has the ability to uproot itself and go walking about the place. Being a Linden creation and thus supposedly permanent, the forest is still there. Just not Collagesity. The also sacred 97/97/97 spot that once united Collagesity directly with VHC City on the same continent of Heterocera is protected from alteration, i.e., terraforming from the outside, the thing which ruined the parallel 97/97/97 in VHC City, psychically uncoupling the 2 burgs.
And what of Shelley? *She* is from that same diagonal line crossing the continent, its very tip top in fact in Hooktip, a suburb of VHC City — 135/135/135. Another perfection, it seems. Mr. Babyface is huffing and puffing on his recently purchased Blue Pennant tobacco by way of Hana Lei which replaced inferior Red Dragon, still staring, still preparing in his mind. Won’t be long now.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0206, Constantynople, Heterocera, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Nautilus, Rank & File, Rubi, Temple of TILE, VHC City, Xilted
In a cage underneath the bed he waits his turn as reality shifts back into fantasy, virtual playstuff and all. It was always going to be this way. Once they returned to the top. “How’s your novel going?” he said over, blue rose decorated suit back on. “I’m really sinking into this one,” she admitted to her hubby who was still gone a lot of the time, acting in Europe, Asia and Africa currently, Shakespeare being a world-wide phenomenon. “Sinking as… how?” “You know, really getting into character,” she replied. He rolled over, stared upward. If he’d kept rolling he would be looking right at the answer. “So you’re Jennifer Lane, the writer who *writes* Shelley. But to me you’re still Shelley, since I’m not in your books.” “Oh, you’re in them alright,” she said, which was truth. Just not the whole. 2-4 percent, like incomplete milk for a half baked, choco chip cookie. And so, on the 5th day… “Explain,” he ventured, pressing further tonight, kind of hearing the muffled cries of help from beneath him but still kind of not. He could sense an actor in peril.
So she gave him permission to come back into her life, to live in this place with them as well. Her lovely Edward, fresh from a dog park over in Pickle 02. Someone else was under the bed now. He stared at the answer. “Jem, is that you Jem?” He rolled over, all the way. “Oh it’s *you*.”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0203, Constantynople, Jeogeot, Kidd Tower, Middleton, Nautilus, Rank & File, Xilted
He listened over as best he could while pretending to stare at the pickle holding couple in front of him. Was this a gay couple instead? He’d just been with his own “chum” (as they were talking about), but that was different. A 3rd was involved. How about here?
Ant-man, he heard. Man of Ant. And the other: one of Sand; Sandman. Like one pickle is sandy colored and one pickle is the more normal green colored. Combine them and you have a green, sandy mess. He gathered all this from their talk. The Pickles, 01 and 02, were like themselves. But something had happened, something had gone wrong. They *contemplated* a gay relationship, or at least the Sandman did. He talked about different tongues…
—–
As kind of planned, he was now under the bone at the entrance to the Verdant Falls Dog Park, the exact same coordinates on Pickle 02 as the Squishy Pickle bench he’d just been on was for Pickle 01. He spotted a couple sitting on the exact same kind of bench, even down to the green and blue pillows. A merger had failed because of something that had happened before with Ant-man and Sandman. The Mann had separated from Ant, and was now interacting with Wo-mann.
“Come on boy!” he heard The Mann call. “And… boy!”
But there was only one dog from Edward’s angle. More mergers. We can move on.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0113, Bellisaria, Pickle 01, Pickle 02
It’s a very blue place, she thinks. 10:01 AM. Yet she stares.
Wonder why Myrtle doesn’t like linden plants? she ponders. I’ve *always* liked linden plants. Maybe the only one she respects, the branchy winter tree with no leaves, is my *least* favorite, hmph.
Someone else should be with me here in this lonely spot, she ruminates. Someone else blue.
She suddenly has the urge to get up and dance. Must be the costume. And the place.
—–
“I see plumeria over there,” she spoke later to rail sitting Edward, her chosen beau for the day. She’d changed into something safer, something non-dancey, urge abated. “I see palm tree no. 1, palm tree no. 2. And then a cypress tree 1 just up the hill. What’s not to love?”
“Different strokes for different folks,” Edward offered to Shelley’s continued rant. She just couldn’t get the logic of Myrtle’s opinion.
“Very regimented. *No* chaos. No mention of mainlands. What a mess! she might exclaim. Yet… she’s there. On Constance.”
“*You* put her there. Even gave her that weird belly button, the on and off thing.”
“The Abyss must be a key. That’s where we meet, her and me. That’s where I can tell her off if she doesn’t friend me.”
“Drop it,” urges Edward to the girl, perhaps the love of his life. If Wanda doesn’t enter the picture again. “Let it go.”
“The *island* is all about that merger.” But as she spoke this, she began to doubt her words. It was more than just that.
—–
The next day Shelley replaced Edward with Arthur in the sim of Escanes and they studied the illegal TILE treatises of Bart and Lisa in a sand covered underwater room directly beneath a false island planted with those plumeria and palms, thinking their actions there were unexposed to the prying eyes of superiors on the FILE. They weren’t; didn’t call them that for nutt’n.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0039, 0101, Long Islands, Nautilus, Wild West
Arthur and Edward had an eyefull. “Constantyne, huh?” Arthur, the hubby, finally managed about the creator of the thing. “Queen of the cows, eh?”
“*I’m* queen of the cows,” crowed Jennifer to this, author of 37 romance novels, almost 38. “Or will be. Once my infiltration is complete. This is just step 01 of a 03 or 04 step process.”
“No need to bring zeroes into this.”
“No,” said Shelley, thinking Arthur’s sentence was more compliment than criticism. He was reading into what she said, seeing between the lines. However thin they may be. He looks again, then looks over at Edward doing the same. Might as well be a much thicker line drawn down the center of the room between them, real on his side, irreal or fantasy on the other. Romance novels, pheh. 2 boats in one, hmph. Both 6’5″, both the same size and shape. She *manufactured* him. But then he had a rethink. Both of them? She claimed she was now Jennifer after all. Not Shelley. He questioned further, not persuaded despite all the evidence.
“Will you still work for Al during all this? You said Thomas Boyy — whatever he’s called –.”
“She,” said Jennifer to this. “He’s also a she.”
“Whatever (again). Anyway, you were assigned to Al by him… or her.”
“TOM calls the shots, the male-female synergy at the top of the pyramid that is also the pyramid itself. He/she said to stay in FILE, in the column that is centered upon Constantynople, upon the Temple of TILE there to be specific. Upon the *front door* of the place to be even more specific. Right on the equator. Kenosha is at the top, Tomasina is one down, then Tigger after that.”
Tigger, she thought. Zero Hero! Arthur’s sentence back there was more criticism than complement, she realized. She must return…
She stopped her stands and indicated the filing cabinets in the corner of the 1 room building, a tiny house the owner calls it, neighbor to the Land of the Cows in Tigger as it turns out. The obvious “secret” agent who also owns the body swapping machine Arthur and Edward stumble upon to find out they were one and the same deep down. Thus the logical progression to *here*. “See what you can find in (those cabinets) — probably another clue. I’ll check back, say, tomorrow. Stay *put* until then. Maybe play cards with each other to pass the time, get to *know* each other better. Understand differences as well as sameness. You have your assignment. *Subordinates*.” She took her leave with that.
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0704, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File, Temple of TILE
Arthur and Edward proving once and for all that they are indeed one and the same deep down.
“I don’t feel any different except for the clothes and hair,” spoke one.
“Ne meither,” said the other.
But what to do about it?
—–
“6’5″ both, huh,” said Thomasina about the presents. “Do they play good cop bad cop?”
“I… don’t know. They’re just *there* now.”
“Like the 88s,” she replied, thinking about an earlier time. Before Shelley grew up. She returned to her notes, saw Toy, Play, Mine, Thing on the surface of the paper before her. Separation, one into two. Like removing the shadows from a human face, leaving only outline. But comparing them side by side you can tell they’re from one image. The 8 fingered hand reaches out.
“Anything else, today?” As usual, people were beating down the door of Thomasina’s inner sanctum in the sim of Jasper, needing help for this that and that. She did all she could. She’s using her powers for good these days. She is the true eye of the pyramid. TOM. Both male and female energies. Synergy.
“I don’t suppose so,” Shelley-as-Jennifer replied. “I’ll stay within the column, the FILE, as you requested.”
“Good good. We have agents that are aiding you. Like with the body swapping machine. Good you know. Good *they* know. You will advance step by step, assimilate. Already a variant scenario where Lichen Roosevelt takes over the body has been absorbed. You are you again.” She looks at the now familiar Pepper for President shirt, the glasses, the gloved hands, the patched jeans, the sneakers. The blond doodle-bug hair. *Not* curly any longer. Lichen is gone, although the fear of being “cowed” remains. Probably the influence of Myrtle Beech back on Constance. More to be told there for certain. “Keep those bi-weekly reports coming,” she said in parting.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0616, Nautilus, NORTH, Rank & File
“Edward on the left, Arthur to the right. My two boys.”
“Yes, they’re very nice,” said Thomasina, staring down at them. “But… these are 2 boats, Jennifer. The same boat, in fact, by the looks of it. Just doubled up.” Thomasina wondered if she purchased them from the same place but didn’t ask this.
“Yes. My two boys.” Jennifer started to look confused. Why didn’t Thomasina understand this? 2 boats, 2 boys. What could be simpler? Takes two to know after all, she thought. Everyone knows that, every single person in the world knows that.
“Let’s begin again,” Thomasina decides while putting down the photo and re-scanning her notes on the table. She pounded her bat softly into her now empty left hand while she did, thinking mode on. Shortly: “You were born November 2021.”
“Yes. About.” She knew the exact date but didn’t like to show off her eidetic memory. Best to hide certain things from the world. She’s starting to rethink the whole Edward-Arthur reveal. And what is this batty outfit Thomasina is wearing? What did it mean? The obvious?
“You *were* Jenny Lane and then you grew all up, became weedy but not in that way.”
“Dabbled in some pot back in the days, yes. Plants were there so I took the opportunity.” Last time: July 10th 2007, she knew but didn’t say.
“Let’s not worry about the far past right now,” said Thomasina, sitting up and looking into her eyes again. “Let’s set some rules, or reinforce some rules. In the *present*.” She had several others in line at the gate already. Grammy was done (SODA addict — cured with a coke can filled instead with rancid urine) but more came. Guard Tank or Bazooka Ferguson had his hands full. Thank Gods for Steven, a needed distraction. But troubadour songs only go so far. “You tried Rank, now stick to File. Like here. NOd if you understand.”
Jennifer nodded. As long as her 2 boys were with her she’d make due. She could write her novels, she could live her lives. She would escape the column *sometime*. Thomasina seemed to read her mind here — probably was.
“As long as Constantynople is a thing, you must abide by this rule. Try the up and down, *stay* in the up and down. Not even right and left any longer — that’s gone.
Jennifer thought of the overnight disappearance of Nightsity. Fantasyland was still there, though, in Bionaz Gulch. She asked about it. And also Dottieback, the many individual locations there. After all, these were directly east and west of Constantynople.
“That was for the last photo-novel,” replied Thomasina to this. “You might have missed your opportunity. You are going very fast with your writing but maybe not fast enough. If you’d just… stick to the plan.”
—–
So Thomasina changed forms and took her to Kenosha, the top of it all, the eye of the pyramid. Her extra pair of eyes rolled heavenward to reinforce the deal. “Gotta get back,” she said. “I’ll leave you here to start.”
—–
10:01 AM. But she stared anyway.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0038, 0611, Nautilus, NIGHTSITY, NORTH, Rank & File
Sunklands 