Tag Archives: HYPERCUBE

00440703 (all)

And so let’s end where it all began. With a cube. In the Back Rooms. But we must add more text and context.

None of this is finished. We have reached a dead end, plywood *blocking* our way again. Besides the highlighted cube, notice also the bit on the sickly yellow wall to the left here projecting through as a line. Future promise but also current limit.

We are going to get answers, though the journey will be hard at times, with many pitfalls to navigate. Let’s call these: falling into the flesh pit, mystery no more. The Back Rooms is actually uplifting in this way. Sometimes I wish it had all remained plywood, this Our Second Lyfe. Would certainly help with lag (!).

We toil endlessly in a 9-5 grind but ultimately use our copiers for nonproductive things like tomfoolery or worse.

We are hanging by a thread, producing writing but only of a disjointed mix of color, font, and narrative.

We wade through pools of shallow knowledge, hoping to get to deeper ones soon enough. If we live that long, pheh (plywood again).

We are bored. We are not fulfilling what we are suppose to be. The powers that be knew this would happen. They gave us a break. Many.

As in bathroom. So many toilets to choose from but only one is real. No people at least, but of course that’s part of the whole problem.

We must come back up to the world, move to the main building by the holidays with all the other 9-5 grinders and out of this Back Rooms place with its pitfalls and dead ends. Things will be okay; you’ll see. Night writing instead of day. Continuity instead of disjointment through increased psychic abilities. Let the photo-novels begin!

END OF “SUNKLANDS 2024 LATER”!

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0044, 0703, Back Rooms, Maebaleia/Satori, X-City^

00440101 (the return of Strevor, Philip)

“Damn cube, OW! Why do they have to be so many damn cubes in my dreams lately, pheh.”

“Ow ow… ow. F-cking toe.”

“Hmm. Looks like Franklin was wrong. Nothing here, huh. Dead end. Nothing left to do but wake up.” He relieves himself on the canal wall even though he’s underwater. Then, getting down to the business at hand, starts slapping himself. Takes a while, but he enjoys it all the same.

—–

“Why is your face so red, dawg? You get slapped up by a woman or something? Speaking of which…”

—–

“Where’re we going Franklin?” he said, looking back at the coffee shop from whence they came.

“You’ll see. Just down the block.”

—–

“Are *these* your damn cubes or something? We were just here Tuesday after all. You were complaining about the art, and how simple it was and that you could knock up something like that — your words — after 12 beers and one hand tied behind your back. ‘No,’ you said. ‘Make that two. 2 beers and *12* hands,’ you tried to joke, but you were already pretty drunk at the time. Should have been drinking coffee back then too. Or eating… something.”

“I-I don’t know,” he said about Franklin’s theory about the cubes and the dreams, then looked around, actually still in a dream… something. “Hey, where’s Mike? Did we ditch Mike somewhere?”

“Dawg, where’s Mike??”

“That’s what I’m asking *you*. Dawg.”

“Mike?” Franklin calls in one of the bushes around the big red cubes. “Mii-ke?”

“Well he’s not in *there* for Christ sake. He’s not missin–” Trevor stops. He remembers… an S. An S in a bush. Flaming (SWITCH).

Part 2: Mikie, not Mike

That night he goes back to the dead end canal ditch and sees something after hitting his toe once more on that in-the-way big goddamn cube, ow ow ow! 1st monkey mosaic. “Frank Lynn was *right*!” he said before starting to slap himself red again.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL OT, 0044, 0101, Back Rooms, C2077, GTA, Kabusie

00410315

From the computer table in my apartment, I watched her stand between the two openings, scratching her head and obviously trying to choose which role to play tonight. Pinkie Brainerd, owner of Pink’s Pawn on the bottom level? Or Berta Brainard, secretary and girl Friday to private investigator Wendell “Biff” Carter on the 3rd and top floor of the same building? Nothing was in-between the two; there was no middle ground here, all intermediate floors vacant instead. Despite being the author, I suppose, I couldn’t make the choice for her. The pink color of the dress drew her toward the pawn shop, but the ribbon aspect of it made her want to type and organize files and such.

This was an important decision; this was a crossroads. I’d been here before, almost in this exact spot doing the same. Before the beginning of things in that case. Here: almost in the middle. Maybe there is some kind of middle ground to be found after all.

There. Down there. That was me at the time. Pepi “Can” Kolya was the name back then. Before Mouse fixed the holes in my head and gave me expressions and the ability to wear different clothes. I became non-mesh.

I started out wearing a beanie with a spinning propeller thingy symbolizing windmills but I quickly grew out of that early look. I gained the coat/mantle of Axis, but moved beyond the darkness of a second Great War as well. I’m not German, but I proudly wear the red, yellow, and black colors of the modern aspect of that nation to remind me of my origins. A small dog named Spider was around here somewhere in my Cass City apartment to remind me of the swastika (thanks Greti!). I cannot escape my start in holey darkness but I now strive toward holy light. Through me (the author again I have to assume), Marsha “Pink” Krakow is now doing the same.

The lights grown softer, more realistic. She turns toward me and even though she doesn’t make eye contact I’m pretty sure she recognizes I’m there — at the computer desk — typing what we’re doing in the moment. She suddenly staggers and falls, then brushes herself off and assumes an upright position again. She falls once more, but in a different way. Then another fall, a 3rd kind.

She doesn’t get up this time. She remains frozen in the same position on the pavement of Southside in front of the 2 doors she apparently can’t choose between. Paralyzed, I understand. Unable to walk toward either now. She eventually vanishes on the spot but I’ve received my message for tonight. There was more to be found here.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0315, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori

00370416 (party 16)

Then Sandman made his pitch, which meant Shelley made the pitch for him, still writing, still scribbling down ideas to be written out properly later. “I have a whole sim out there, down there, up, over.”

“Oh yeahh?” she decided to say. “Tell me about it. Can I come?”

“Precisely what I was going to say.”

“Through me,” she said. “Pitch it.” She closed her eyes to the pitch black sky and listened. The noise of the party died away. Edward’s game of life was over. The 6th turned out to be false, unlike the first 5. It wasn’t all about him. Butterscotch, he loved butterscotch. Didn’t hate it.

So he brought out the red and green box, showed it was empty, and then brought out the somewhat smaller, lavender box that use to reside inside it and also demonstrated its emptiness by–. “What it needs, Shelley–” he said, laying it down between them now.

“Don’t tell me. Let me guess.”

Sandman turned away from the rail, dared to look in her eyes again now that they were closed. Put a lid on it, he thought. Close it up. She opened her eye. He stared into infinity.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0037, 0416, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Wild West

00360210

I occasionally stop by here, a house to the south of Chilbo on the Jeogeot continent, to check and see if my star is still there on the porch where I put it, oh, say about a year ago by this point. Owner of the house and attached property is a bigfoot researcher, like myself. 🙂 Guy named Snow. And the creator of the star is also a Snow — small world, or so they say. The first Snow is also co-owner of Roberts and Franklin Investigators in Towerboro on the same continent.

Has Robin Williams pic and quote in his profile, thus the decision to place the star here. Williams was a big fan of Firesign Theatre. And a couple of years back, in the sim of Moork, I found a small parcel owned by Uh Clem, a name derived from one on their “Bozos” album already mentioned in this photo-novel by Peter Ladd, nephew of Mr. Babyface. Tonight I found an Ahclem avatar in the same group as the person who owns the Ouroboros property seen in the last part of my last post here (and who has a Firesign Theatre quote in his profile). And, to remind, Shelley Struthers, an all important character now, extraordinarily so, is based on a Shelly I found in Our Second Lyfe who is also a big fan of Firesign Theatre (another one of their quotes in her profile; is, like myself, a member of the only Our Second Lyfe Firesign Theatre group I know of) and whose apartment she has owned for at least several years lies directly on the triple number of Hooktip, on the Head Line of the Heterocera continent. Keep in mind that we just found more oddities on the Heart Line, its matching diagonal from that particular continent. You can get a glimpse of what I’m working with, all the connections. It is, indeed, a Matrix.

But I believe I know what’s on top of the box now. And the bottom. Nautilus, my *home* continent now (not Jeogeot, not Heterocera) is at the bottom. Top is Reality: an approximately 10×10 mile square in the middle of Ringgold County in the south of Iowa. And then they begin to interpenetrate.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0036, 0210, Chilbo^, Heterocera, Iowa, Jeogeot, Nautilus, Towerboro

Roberts to start again…

I think I’ve found what I needed to this morning. An unregistered Nautilus (continent) gallery. Hypercubes.

My opposite Franklin doesn’t quite fit in here yet. Too large. We’re working on it.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0035, 0101, Nautilus, NORTH

00340516

“So it’s all settled. We know what the head in the center of the sink is.”

“We *do*?” spoke Wheeler, scratching her still beret topped head and trying to look innocent. At least she’d taken the key out of her mouth and dropped it in to be disposed of. *Tried* (damn chain).

“Where’s Baker?” Newt looked all around, as if the true owner of this blog and attached photo-novels, heading toward 34 in number, would manifest from a purple or raspberry tinted corner or wall.

“He needs to be in on this yarn, this story,” agreed Wheeler, also looking around the swamp shack but expecting less. The Prime Minister, the only one who can save the plot, the key. And it seems that he already did. Thanks to the levels, the nodal points. Now we can enter Pipersville unencumbered, he might utter if he were here. But is it really about Pipersville, a Maebaelia location famous for its sinkhole not thought about in a while? We have to think like we’re playing 3 dimensional chess. A bit like Spock. We have to get smarter, or at least more awake.

Pipersville obviously relates to pipes. The key should have passed through, Wheeler realizes, gone down. Yet it stayed at the top — caught. The key to the box that is a house, perhaps this shack itself, inner absorbing outer, passing through each other again and again ad infinitum. We should never have opened it, Wheeler understood for not the first time. Pictures. Occident separated from Orient. East over here, west over there, hemispheres apart.

Inner and outer, inner and outer…

Maybe only Nautilus can save us after all.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0034, 0516, Maebaleia/Satori, Nautilus, Paper Soap, Pipersville/Sink X^, Soap

fish head (YES MAYBE NO)

“Who is she?” he asked, heart still thumping from all the excitement.

“Goes by Helen.”

Helen, Guy pondered. Like Troy. Destroyer of Men.

Time to reset to Zero.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0033, 0209, Nautilus, NORTH, Slaashsides

00320402

The first thing to be destroyed in the dismantling of Fordham’s Collagesity was the 128 meter long spaceship of skybox 03, intended to be used to pack up Collagesity itself in just this very event. It remains clunky and unpractical for its purpose. Gone after saving to inventory.

Baker also deletes the skybox 03 base cubes, including the teleporter needed to reach it, and drops down to skybox 02. More painful here: Baker is quite attached to this aerial town centered by the golden calf that is Claudette: the grassy arena where Peter Ladd performed his lame comic routine to an audience of his Uncle Babyface and perhaps others; the abbreviated Kidd Tower on the other side of town that acts as the residential unit; and then…

Baker Bloch can’t do it. Not tonight at least. He has several more to decide. The clunky spaceship was an easy choice. Now it gets more difficult when we move closer to the ground.

And then, heading down to skybox 01, there’s the problem of the Nautilus map and its over 100 strategically placed pins now. My idea: to transfer all this to the “Iowan hypercube” displayed in my GoogleEarth file (Oracle) but it hasn’t been successfully accomplished yet.

Seems like, to me, as I ponder this further, that Collagesity has at least another month to live. I’ll renew my membership on a month to month basis. Subtracting the rental connecting the two parts of Collagesity — the main 8 and the now disattached 9th representing the Temple of TILE and its grounds — frees up 15 dollars a month, reducing the total cost from 50 to 35. New decision date: early May, when novel 32 should wrap up. Synchronization remains important.

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0402, Collagesity Fordham, Iowa, Lower Austra^, Nautilus

00320302

“There have been other libraries in other places. Like Crabwoo.

“Right, Karoz?” he prompted after turning.

“Are you going to answer my question about the Abyss or not?” Dave’s blue-green roommate for the exciting semester replies while applying the last bit of mascara to his face. Wendy! In all its glory. They finally made it after a long, hard stretch of work. Reward!

—–

In a different part of the dream, Karoz looks up to see a whale sized blimp pass over a backwards blue E, otherwise known as a schwa. Red seems to be a theme for tonight but it’s not Devil Dave this time. Instead, a car, and a particular car at that. One plucked from the Iowan hypercube they knew so well now.

“Your burger, sir,” Wendy offered from the side… with a side (fries), prying him away from the aerial spectacle. Perhaps he should get back in the car to receive.

(to be continued)

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Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0032, 0302, Bay City/Nova Albion^, Iowa, Sansara, Wendy-Ontario