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Tag Archives: Kolya/Pepi/Can^*+++++
00480116 (fallen)
He stared at the can, thinking about all the repercussions of what happened in UT recently. Some say he invented the object, but that was Can the character — different. And besides, [Pepi “Can” Kolya] had turned into Newt now, hadn’t he? (he thinks) Better. Able to smile and perhaps even laugh. A new centerpiece figure for the blog and attached photo-novels as a whole on the male side of things. Female? Well, still obviously dominated or ruled by Wheeler. Which reminds him… (STAND)
He’ll return to this Arang 32/225/94 seat for more thinking and pondering later. But for now he’s got to get to another 32/225 spot in a catty-corner sim to wait on daughter Alice, fresh from a land removed from such worries. Her lucky streak has just ended, though, he thinks. Wheeler was not *in* trouble but just trouble period. A little white lie sold to Alice so that she’ll come home and help him deal with her. She doesn’t like his red dress he got from the pawn shop, she doesn’t like the cans of bargain soda he brings home from the grocery store, she doesn’t like this that or the other thing. Difficult (!). Alice was always better than him with handling her moods. And now she’s coming back. Yes, little white lie justified. She’ll get over it soon enough.
“I guess I’ll just stand right in the middle of the road here so she can’t miss me,” he mutters when teleporting in to the second 32/225 of the day. “Just don’t hit me!”
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0048, 0116, Dokken Hollow, Jeogeot, Utah
00470410
“And so that’s how the crash occurred, and for what reason. You should have figured this out long before. Blue Boy.”
Blue Boy? he thought. OH, she thinks I am…
—–
… a different person now, thought older and more mature Newt. I am no longer Pepi – Can – Kolya, he counts them off individually on his desk beside his steampunk computer, old like him but still quite functional for his needs. He likes the way the dimensions of the monitor seem ideal to display full screen versions of his blog pictures (for example).
“Sir? (pause) Sir?”
“Oh yes, young Fink,” he finally comes out of his daydreams and acknowledges the boy’s presence. “Heading home again?”
“No sir. Just arrived. It’s 4 o’clock.”
“Oh.” Newt looks at his watch; still not on his arm, though. 4 indeed. Not 7. Where didn’t the time fly? ha ha, he thinks with a laugh. “Heading upstairs, then?”
Yes sir,” said Fink. “With your permission of course.”
“Of course — our arrangement. You show up at 4, go upstairs and use my attic computer for 3 hours, come back down here and say goodbye at 7 along with a bit of a chat, and then you return to your treehouse home to do stuff with pal Jake while Wheeler and I enjoy our TV shows before my bedtime.”
Fink was thinking: he and Wheeler have different bedtimes? Interesting. But of course said nothing about this. Instead:
‘Yes sir.” And before he took his leave he decided to remind Newt that the mechanical contraption Bimbo from their native land of Oooooo will FINALLY be arriving tomorrow afternoon after a 4 month delay.
After a significant pause while Newt still stared at the screen before him, he said, “right, right,” and moved to shut the door on the young human. “You’ll excuse me, Fink. Sensitive material on the computer now. Not for young eyes. Goodbye. We’ll talk at 7.”
And then he went back to his desk to have a bit of a weepie. He’ll miss the fellow!
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0410, Blue Mountain, County Park, Haze County, Jeogeot, Nawt Vaya, NVFS
00470409 (Miss Ouri)
“Done in by (the Nautilus continent region known as) the Wild West,” thought Can, drinking from a bottle inside the dresser that was his Dream while glancing left at the dangly orange legs that match her eyes. “*Not* a witch,” she begged just before the ironic crushing. Of *course* she was a witch. Just like…
… oh no, he thought in a panic, position suddenly reversed from before. NOT a witch. A decent person overall. Just…..
….. separate.
What has he *done*???
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0409, Jeogeot, Lower Austra^, Nautilus, Newtown, Wild West
00470408
She turns away from it and looks down into the Ratskeller. One of the Eighty-eights and town manager Rag Doll, also known as Evelyn Hart, are waiting. Dare she go sit with them? She could still run away. They seem to have not spotted her yet at the top of the stairs. But she’d been studying that painting with cashmere robed Shelley for a while. They could have looked up here when she didn’t notice. Can’t take a chance, she realized. That’s how town rumors and gossip get started. And she’d had enough of that already in this place full of time and space.
But it wasn’t just one of the Eighty-eights down there. It was 2 of them, Eight and Eighty together. She’d imagined seeing Rag Doll aka Evelyn Hart all along, all this time while both glancing down there and simultaneously studying De Boy’s painting up here with Shelley. What gives?
—–
“I’m here to see the manager,” he said to Sue Anne the counter attendant of the moment. She waves her arm in the direction of the only other person in the diner while saying, “How about the owner?”
Promotion, ahh. Rag Doll aka Evelyn Hart was not in the same position Alessandra (= white-clad Wheeler) assumed she would be in this town of New.
She dug right into him. “You were suppose to turn right at the can. What *happened*?”
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0047, 0408, Blue Mountain, County Park, Haze County, Jeogeot, Newtown
00460213 (power)
“Sir?” (pause) “Sir?”
“Oh yes, young Fink,” distracted Newt finally acknowledges his presence at the door to his study. “How’s it going? Everything alright with the computer upstairs and all?” He didn’t look at Fink Humann, kept staring at the screen of his own computer.
“Yes, fine sir,” said Fink. “It’s just that it’s 7 o’clock. Time for me to leave. I’m saying goodbye is all. Like, er, like I do every time I come over here… at this time.”
Newt checks his watch not on his arm, gives a little start. “Oh dear, didn’t realize it was so late. Better wrap this up. Well, er, thank you, Fink, for telling me the time and the lateness of it all. And I suppose I’ll see you again… tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is a big day, sir.”
“Please, Fink. You can stop calling me sir. You’ve come over, what is it, almost every day for the past 2 weeks?”
“Except that Sunday when Jack and I went plane flying, yes.”
“We’re friends now,” emphasized Newt from his chair. “Come over here, actually — I know it’s getting late and you need to get back to the treehouse but I — I want your opinion on this. I’m serious. Here.” And Newt waved him over, which he complied with. “What do you see?” he asked as Fink Humann also stared at the monitor with him.
“That’s er, your wife,” said Fink, seeing her image dominating the screen. Fink knew this was Wheeler now and not another form of their precious Princess Pinky Gumm. Wheeler herself told them that during a visit the other day to their treehouse.
“No, *behind* her. What do you see on the wall over there?”
“Um, JEO — GEOT,” he read on the poster. “Jeogeot,” he combined.
“Very good. The continent we’re now on.”
“Jeo-geot,” Fink repeated. “Jeogeot,” he collaged again.
“Yes,” said Newt. “Fine and dandy. But what else is there?”
“Um… people.”
“People, yes. And…”
“Dinos.”
“Dinosaurs, right. Aannd…”
“Um, an elephant?”
*Elephant*? Newt thinks. Does young Fink here not know what a giraffe is?? But then Newt realized Fink had inadvertently given him the answer to the riddle he’d been pondering so deeply about all this afternoon and early into the evening. The phone rang on his table. Wheeler obviously, Newt thought without checking the number.
“Thank you again, Fink. We’ll be talking soon.” He pats him on his shoulder to signal their time was done.
“But not tomorrow,” Fink says while walking out of the study, making Newt realize that tomorrow was the day mechanical contraption Bimbo was suppose to arrive from Fink and Jack’s native Oooo. Fink might not be coming around as much after that, and perhaps not at all. He’d miss the lad if so. Perhaps there was another way, hmm. He finally answers the phone that’s been ringing all this time.
“Where *are* you?” Wheeler emits.
Where are *you*? Newt wanted to say in return but knew it didn’t matter. Could be anywhere in the world… or nowhere. He’d find her whatever. Just up the stairs from down. “Be right there,” he said not into the phone but in the air all around.
00410514
She was just standing there watching the waves crash when it flew out of them, hitting her in the thigh region and wiping that smug smile of satisfaction right off her face.
“OW!” she exuded with suddenly bulging eyes and down-turned mouth, body reflexively bending over in the sharp pain. “Damn thing hit me!”
“What’s that??” called Derek from the front of the boat they came on here from the mainland. Maebaleia is the continent again now, and Funnel is the sim. The island they landed on shouldn’t be here according to the map; drew their attention. It was all leading up to this.
“A can!” she shouted back over the continuing sound of turbulent water. Would it suck them in if they tried to return now? Was the sim aptly named because of this?
“Can?!” shouted Derek.
“Yeah! In the leg!” She picked it up after examining the mark it left, pain already easing off a bit. Unpopped, with pop still inside. Of course she dare not open it until the fizz settled down. Could take days. She was smarter in the ways of canned drinks than Newt apparently.
“Jimmy! Frederica!” Derek called to the people standing above them on the height of the islet. “We need to leave! Sarah’s hurt!”
“I think I’m okay!” said Sarah to this. She looked down again; no blood still. “Yeah, I’ll be okay! One of those bruising the ego more than bruising the body moments.”
“What happened?” asked Jimmy, standing next to Derek now but looking over at Sarah. She was upright again. She looked okay.
Frederica came up next. “Yeah, what is it?” she added. Jimmy was about to take a photo of her, a perfect spot, a perfect snapshot.
“It’s Sarah. She said something hit her in the leg.”
“It’s a can of pop,” she said, hearing every word despite the decreased volume of the talk. “It just, well *popped* me.”
“W-where did it come from?” questioned Jimmy. He looked out at the sea, the now strangely calming waves. They’d forgotten all about Tom. Tom came with them from the mainland. Tom was no longer there.
Satisfied Sarah was okay, Jimmy and Frederica returned to their former positions but the moment seemed ruined. Something about those 2 palms really bothered Jimmy now; he couldn’t focus camera or thoughts. He kept thinking about that thigh. He envisioned: a ship.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0514, Maebaleia/Satori, Outer Islands
00410509
“I came here looking for ship parts. Maybe even a whole ship. Instead I found an X. X marks the spot.”
“You’re in over your head,” she said back, the first female salvage related person he’d met. And the 1st person of color, period. She rezzed in to help, to be truthful. RDBH had the perfect angle for an opening shot. He didn’t want to mess it up.
“Or a spot marked by an X,” he changed the wording of his former sentence. Now that she had come he could look down.
Ah yes, a bunch of stuff named Mare: cigarettes, beer, ‘nother different kind of beer. “Why are you running an, er, eatery stand? Salvage person.”
“I have to make ends meet,” she said plainly, matter-of-factly. “Else how could I offer goofy looking scavengers like you such good prices, eh?”
RDBH looked over, took her in better. Pretty face. Jewels on head and body. Attractive. But the prices were still too expensive. More than one way to skin a cat? “What’s your name, dear?”
“Pearl. Black Pearl most call me. To differentiate from other types of pearls: grey, white, so on.”
“Black Pearl,” he parroted back, making the birds on his shoulders share a smile. He seemed to have heard the name before. But where?
(to be continued)
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0509, Mountain Lake^, Omega^^
00410405
By Christmas morning he had collected 3 cans in total. The second that soon followed the first through the portal, some kind of product called Mount and Dwu (?), turned out to be pretty nondescript in his estimation outside the queer name — just a “can” if you will. The 3rd, arriving only a handful of minutes ago after a wait of hours, was more interesting; it was now front and center before his eyes. A soda filled aluminum cylinder labelled 12939 — no ambiguity here that the number was the most important element — with a descriptive line underneath: “on reflection, a better cola”. He’s stared and stared but can find no rhyme nor reason to it. If only he’d played an early, open world game from the 1980s called Mercenary he might have the opening he needs by popping the figurative tab off the top.
Newt’s literal creator Dr. Mouse showed up later in the morning with a present of Old Spice Showering Gel. He’d played the open world game Mercenary in the 80s and a bit in the 90s even. While in Spain in the 2010s he’d also seen a commercial playing on the reversing trick.
“*But*,” he said to his “son” Newt after revealing it, “the number translated through this can is not actually 12939.”
“It isn’t?” Newt said, staring at the central one with renewed interest. The overall meaning was starting to dawn on him as well.
“No. It’s 1939. The same year as…”
“… the year coming up,” Newt finished for him, suddenly wondering what he was going to do with his tree after New Year’s.
Mouse pointed his cane at the can. “This is (your predecessor) Pepi. My guess is that he’s indicating, from the Great Beyond let’s say, he wants to come back… in the best way he *can* currently, I’m assuming. Pepi ‘Can’ Kolya.” Here he points to the 3rd again, then the 2nd then the 1st. The order of the words in the person-in-question’s full name.
Newt reflexively stares out the window toward the crossroads he’d envisioned Pepi standing in the middle of just the other day. And then Mouse was about in the same spot last Tuesday’s Wednesday when he was flagging down that streetcar named Desire which goes all over town, uptown downtown sidetown (etc.). Could he have known even then?
Or was it merely another of one of those what you call coincidences? Couldn’t be, he thought on the spot. Couldn’t be.
On cue, they both hear the streetcar rumbling into downtown from midtown. “Gotta run and catch a ride, Newt. You know how scared I am of midtown, Chinaville and all. Merry Christmas and thanks for the slippers!” And with that Mouse was gone, moving quickly out of the apartment building Newt lived in beside Shenanigans and onto the street once more.
“Wait, wait, I want a ride!” he called.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0405, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori
Christmas Eve
He was playing Schubert’s 14th piano sonata he’d bought the score for about a week back when it flew in from his set up portal, the 1st of 3 as it turns out. It clanked and rolled on the floor almost to the opposite wall, freezing his hands mid chord progression with the sound. He knew instantly what it was of course. He’d been here before.
It was minimally damaged in the transition thankfully. He brought it over to his work table, moving his trusty steampunk computer aside for the moment; automatically started to take notes on the thing. “Quasi-vintage Coko Cola can circa 1990s, lid unpopped with pop still inside,” he wrote, unable to resist a ready pun. “12 fluid ounces; bar code 490690.”
Understanding the fractal nature of his universe, Newt brought the computer front and center again, googling the number. Through it he learned the product was manufactured in New York with a can manufacturer called Crown. Approx. date of creation: 1983.
https://www.cokecollection.com/index.php?lang=en&pageid=50&canID=11453
Those are the mundane facts. In digging deeper with the number, he soon found another New York connection here:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Interstate_90_in_New_York
Within New York, I-90 has a complete set of auxiliary Interstates, which means that there are Interstates numbered I-190 through I-990 in the state, with no gaps in between.
Splitting 490690 in two and averaging the 2 resulting numbers gives us 590, which is exactly between 190 and 990 or exactly in the symbolic center of New York somewhere moving west to east, he determined.
Right about… here.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Can_of_Worms_(interchange)
Can front and center once more, he figures the fizz inside has settled down enough to safely pop the top. But dare he?
Another can comes flying through the portal. Saved by the bell, er, *clank*.
Filed under **VIRTUAL SL, 0041, 0404, Cass City^, Maebaleia/Satori, New York
Sunklands 