Tag Archives: Jonny SilverhhandC2077^*+++++$

May 11, 2025 · 1:37 pm

00460602

She was already on her 3rd coffee and 4th Blue Moon single of the day. From her solo period of course. She doesn’t like the Cracks, her old group, nearly as much, prefix them with US, UK or any other country — doesn’t matter. But her solo period, especially after the suicide/murder attempt (another reader’s choice): primo. Pure punk while also somehow remaining pure pop, unholy yet uncannily successful marriage of the two. She takes another sip while she listens to another tasty lick from the guitar of none other than Cary E., soon to be known as Car E. and then just CARE w/ all caps, logical terminus reached on the name transmutation process. Formerly of Sunamai of course, helping out Blue Moon on this particular track called “No More Big Leagues,” a minor hit that kicks off her first solo album “Louisville Cardinals” — playing on the fact that the state of Kentucky contains no actual big league baseball team unlike neighboring Ohio with its Cincinnati Reds and Cleveland Indians and likewise neighbor Missouri with its own double team pairing of St. Louis Cardinals and Kansas City Royals. But believe me, don’t let the name fool you, she imagines saying to her brother Ted, more fond of the Cracks (a Crackhead of course): the album is definitely big leagues, and she then imagines herself laughing at his irritation to this statement of fact. “Johnny Rose Bench” is also a pretty well known love ballad from side two. And of course there’s “Elvis Esley.” Or Isley — no one really knows which except Blue Moon herself and she’s not saying.

The old timey dial telephone rings beside her. Probably station manager Marty, she reasons, calling to complain that I’m playing too much Kentucky and to cool it with the Blue Moon. She decides then and there to play the entirety of the the “Louisville Cardinals” album, just not lift the needle off the spinning vinyl record after the first track is done. And maybe play all the rest of her solo work — in order — after that. Take the phone off the hook and just *do* it. She calculates how quickly Marty could get here from Chilbo for the canning.

Can of Worms, yes, she thinks while track 1 ends and track 2 (“St. Louie Blues”) begins. Just like in New York.

(to be continued)

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April 24, 2025 · 8:39 am

00460407

“What I *saw*, V, was the vision of a robot. Not to be cliche, but a robot from the future. Jonny knows.”

“Huh?” I say, knowing this would prompt an explanation.

“My canal channel told me this robot, who is described as being female, saw something that greatly disturbed her which she couldn’t help but record at the time. Which became the recording for all time. She saw herself. In a video. As a human. Doing something she couldn’t do but wished to do. Both Japanese, but 1/2 of 1 being. She had split herself in two to experience this thing but had forgotten about it until that moment. Half Japanese — remember Jonny said that about her. She was full Japanese but Jonny was actually picking up on the split. I was even given a location for the, um, reunification. Place called The Burg. Ever hear of it?”

“No,” I said without emotion, all that busy dealing with the ramifications of what Mysti was saying. I couldn’t rap my brain around it! Yet, deep down, I knew it was true. Because, deep down: there was Jonny, smiling at me in his wise guy way. I preferred Panama but he liked Lexi (=Judy). Yet here came an X factor. Literally.

“Bimbo is the name,” declared Mysti in front of me between the two magenta balls held by that statue she worshipped, what, 4 times daily? Maybe 8. “Got that too from my source. They said that would be enough for you to find out the truth.”

“Truth is a relative term,” I said back without thinking, that being busy too with the ramifications.

“Too true,” said Mysti to end. Time to get busy. Better meet Judy Lexi down at the Afterlife. Because I’d figured that part out too. Lexi wasn’t my potential lover. She was my sister who lived in the big city, me from out in the Nomad sticks. Separated, when, childhood? I had to ask.

(to be continued)

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March 26, 2025 · 8:41 am

00460208 (Palm(er)’s View Way…)

… as in, stuck on Palm’s View Way several seconds after this provocative introductory view of Panam(a) Palmer in the Cyberpunk 2077 game. Could be a purposeful juxtaposition in the “1 Hour of Cyberpunk 2077 Fails” video here but probably not.

And may I remind, this is the girl V(al) the 1st person protagonist of C2077 is stuck on, while adopted internal soul twin Jonny Silverhhand prefers Judy Lexi over in Kabusie. Kabusie as in derived from caboose here too, come to think of it. Both girls attached to the word.

I put the Bakers family patch back in my pocket to end the game again before it even begins and move on…

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December 24, 2024 · 8:33 am

00450313

“May I remind you just here that this *could* have been you.”

“No time for dwelling in alternate realities, Jonny. The Prophet’s successor just disappeared in front of us (!). After talking about Alpha Centauri!”

“I wish I could be comforted,” Jonny continued nonplussed, “that aliens were up there, looking after our well being or *not* looking after it. But, truth be told, the only blood sucking vampires up in space with reptilian skin are the corps sitting atop their high towers in their fancy, snakeskin suits with their eyes all lit up from all the eddies they’re taking from the common people down below. I’m a realist V(al). It’s all here and now for me. Look around. What’s in front of your face. No escapist fantasy for this ol’ rocker boy.”

“Speaking of which, Jonny. What do you know about (the town of) Rocky Boy out in the desert? Per chance: named for you?”

“I’d rather not go down that path, talking about alternate realities.” He looks down at his feet, exhales. “Yeah, admittedly I had a hand in that you could say, ha.” He dexterously wiggles the fingers on his silver one, looks over at the Hustle Girl again as we’ve started to call her. He was expressing *his* desired reality in no uncertain terms.

Jonny later said that people *can* just wink out in Nightsity; it’s not unheard of. Because it’s all part of the Matrix, he expressed — everything we know is, he held firm.

(to be continued)

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December 11, 2024 · 9:55 am

00450205

I came here looking for a ring.

—–

“Well? Answer it.”

“Hallo?”

“So you’re a man,” he answered on the other end of the line. Brusk; kind of hoarse. “Nomad?” he followed.

“Corpo.”

“Aw sh-t. I was hoping you’d be a Nomad.”

“Well I’m not. So what can I do you for.”

“*You*. You do for *me*.”

“Okay. Think that’s what I said. But, what’re you asking?”

“I need to find… The Flaringo.”

“Ringo?”

“Close enough (*click*).”

*Brinngg bringg*. Just like that. Another call coming in.

“Well?” said Jonny again by my side.

Then this when I answered: “It’s me again. Just want to let you know it was Jonny all along.” Same affected voice, pheh. Ventriloquist. What a clown!

“So when is my actual contact suppose to call, huh?” I say exasperatedly.

“Not until tomorrow, ” he said in his normal voice now, hand lowered. “In the excitement of a new town you forgot what day it was. I was just playing along. Using my, ahem, peculiar talents.”

I sighed deeply, understanding we’d have to stay one more night in that hovel of a room at the top of the pyramid Ronald recommended.

“So let’s grab some lunch. You’re buying.”

“Right Jonny, right,” I replied while walking away from the phone with him, my hallucinatory other half now.

Lemon Lime Apple Blueberry would have to wait.

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December 2, 2024 · 11:37 pm

00450111

“I need to have a talk with you, V. Panama’s not my type. I don’t *want* to sleep with her. I actually… have my eyes set on someone else.”

“Jonny. How long’s it been?” I say to the person inside of me, the person I’m wedded to as much as any soulmate lover. We’re not lovers. We are One. “Roller coaster?” I tried to pinpointed.

“Yeah. Roller coaster. Had a fun day back there. Thought I’d end it while we were still on top.”

“Yeah, noticed you weren’t with me after we started careening down to the bottom again on that last big hill.”

“The biggest!”

“Yeah.”

“Good times.”

“Good times, Jonny. So… are you back?”

“Define: back.”

“Welll.”

“Just kidding, kid-o.” Jonny’s affectionate nickname for me, since he’s, I don’t know, like *150*. “Take the blue pill and let’s try that scene (from the last post) again. Let me take over. I want to demonstrate my point.”

“And then you’ll take the red one,” I said, reinforcing the pact we made before. Blue on my side, red on Jonny’s side to return control back to me. He’d been proven a reliable ally on this arrangement.

“Sure, sure. Just like before, chum.” He even gently punches me on the shoulder to reinforce the partnership, the unity of cause. I don’t feel any punch of course, all this being just virtual hallucination.

“Now?”

“Now. Before the inspiration is lost.”

I had a couple of bluesies handy in my back pocket. I pull one out. “Okay. Here goes (swallow).”

—–

For a moment, she appeared in their midst, naked as a jailbird, even bringing a bit of Kabusie canal water along with her which pooled down below her feet. I thought it was a mirage at first, but then I stared at the tattoos, remembered what they said and represented to her, the roses, the firetruck, the spiderweb, that *cat*. No mirage this Lexi Alvocado was — straight out of the city and into the desert, Panama nowhere to be Scene. Tattoos like that don’t lie.

I could feel myself stirring down there. I wasn’t sure I wanted to lose control again this time. Which of course — doofus — V or Val heard, being One with me. What gives? he says way down there, but aware of the stirrings not his own, the thoughts. Okay okay, I say back in my head to the other part of myself. I’ve proven my point. Take the red pill, he pleads. Get out of there before it’s too late. But what do you think? I say back. Beautiful isn’t she. Better than Panama, eh? So go with Lexi. We’ll get along *so* much better later. Take – the red — *pill*, he insisted from within. Okay alright, I say. I had two in my back pocket as well. Wait… one. Always forget how that works. I pull it out, I swallow. Yeah, before it’s too late. The arrangement, etc. etc.

The pill begins working its magic. She acquires her regular garb to stem the stirrings, cut them off even. She was Jonny’s type, I said in my head while making my way back to the surface. But she wasn’t *my* type.

—–

Then *I*, baker b. of the Baker Family of Our Second Lyfe avatars, took over. Neither one, the Mary Anne and Ginger of Cyberpunk 2077 as we could call them, were my types. I put the patch back in my pocket to end the game before it even began.

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October 13, 2024 · 2:07 pm

00440311 (Hellboy?)

He comes around when I sit down and slap him. He looks around. “Where are we?”

“Motel. Middle of nowhere.”

“Any specific Middle?” he intuited right off the bat, being the smart-ass psychic he is. They had to talk about Jonny. They had to talk about the relic.

I soon got this out of him anyway with a couple more slaps, turning his cheeks from orange orange to apple red: “The suicide model was just a prototype. *Arasaka’s* aims were always higher.”

Arasaka — the *Tree*, I think. Should’ve known. Add another hotel/motel to the growing list of hanging fruits.

(to be continued)

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September 15, 2024 · 7:17 am

00440206

“Have you two ever thought about getting married yourself? I mean, in real life?”

—–

“You don’t understand, honey. I’m — already — here.”

“No matter how many times—”

“Here. Let me lift you up so that you can see better over these vines.”

“Th-there’s a man standing up there, Keith. On *our* roof. Staring directly at me — us.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He turns.

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August 10, 2024 · 10:53 pm

00430616 (Silverhhand)

Just over here, V. Behind these Tiler shacks.

—–

“So this is how it is?”

“What did you expect? A tombstone? Flag and flowers?”

“I don’t know. Something. Anything.”

“You blew up Arastraville Tower. You killed a lot of people, Jonny. And where did it get you in the end? The corps and their suits for men are still in control.”

“I know I know.” He pauses. “I was a musician too besides being a terrorist,” he tried.

“One overrides the other?” I asked as a question. Because I was curious how Jonny was going to balance the two. History would view the music as largely about terrorism, not visa versa. Music should ultimately be uplifting, not constantly tearing down our lives, deconstructing them. Something like Blue Moon and her UK Cracks have merit just by that virtue alone. I told Jonny this.

“Are you saying I should have listened more to those bubblegum bitches?”

“Maybe. Cary listened. He liked them. Until… well, you know.”

Both thought of the death of Blue Moon and possibly Redd the Menace too.

“Maybe it should have been me at the bottom of that damn dam instead of Kentucky. Maybe history would have viewed me more in a positive light.”

“That’s static in that direction, Jonny. You’re not Blue Moon, you’re not bubblegum pop. You’re hard edged rock ‘n roll, always have been, always will. You can’t change who you are inside, the core.”

“Can’t you?” Exhale; another pause. “You know I thought about being an artist, V. A painter instead of an axer. Pretty good too. Won some awards as a child prodigy.”

I checked my watch, thought about the growing length of this section. “Yeah, really don’t have time to explore alternate realities right now, Jonny. The musician/terrorist polarity is complicated enough. Any last words? Over your grave, I mean.”

“Just carve the initials and let’s get out of here.”

“Done, and…

“Done.”

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August 10, 2024 · 10:08 pm

00430615 (garage as it turns out (a kind of bat cave))

“Try to open this door,” Silverhhand said as I walked up. Around the corner, just as Blue Moon indicated.

I went up to the keypad, noticed the thing was laid out like that of a traditional phone, 3 or 4 letters grouped under each number. This:

2 corresponds to A, B, C
3 corresponds to D, E, F
4 corresponds to G, H, I
5 corresponds to J, K, L
6 corresponds to M, N, O
7 corresponds to P, Q, R, S
8 corresponds to T, U, V
9 corresponds to W, X, Y, Z

“Jesus. We’re almost at the end. Hurry up with it, will you.”

And so I took Jonny literally and carefully typed in 53787, the numbers standing for the letters in the name he just gave me. JESUS. No go. Then I thought of the WOW signal that had replaced JESUS in Grand Theft Auto’s version of Richard Knight’s Salvation Mountain over in the southwest part of the state, and, suspiciously, containing some of the same letters. What was it? I thought. Yes, 6E, um Q, J, and, er, 5. U somewhere in there too. Right, 6EQUJ5, I put them together in my head. That sounded right. So I figured out the corresponding numbers for the included letters and then typed 637855, so close to the other number. The door opened after I punched in 8, so only 4 needed. Even closer, then: 6378 to 5378. Only 1 after if we count in 1000s. I walked inside.

Silverhhand manifested on a lighted table in the revealed room full of high tech equipment. “Well what do we have here?” He was staring at a huge projection screen on the far wall, maybe a TV. He picked up a conveniently placed guitar, started strumming a tune he said was called “Beast of Tousaint”. “Ring any kind of bell?” he asked after playing a couple of bars. “Say… a mountaintop?” Suddenly images began to form on the screen across from us, layered one after another in a kind of domino effect. All this confused me at first. The people in the images appeared… different than the ones in Nightsity. They seemed alien to me. Then I recognized one about 5 in, which caused a domino effect itself. From there until the end of the “presentation” about 30 slides later many if not most seemed familiar. I had indeed seen them before. On a mountaintop. In Tousaint. I told this to Jonny who had finished his song by then.

“Good boy. Good, We’re ready to go out to the Oil Fields.” And his 97 silver 911 Porsche manifested before the screen representing a quick way out there. Would take hours to walk.

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