Tag Archives: Kolya/Pepi/Can^*~~~~

4th completed

“Ahh, you see how easy the Owl is to spot in this area?”

“I think I’m done with the Southwest,” I opined, having explored it extensively yesterday, airport (Half Moon) included.

“As you wish,” she answered.

—–

But on a large peninsula just to the east, more mysteries arise. ROOST?

But nothing to do with ROOST homes examined before that I can tell.

I can only check the multi-sim build remotely, since access to the public has been cut off, at least temporarily. I will landmark and return. W-eird.

W: “You said it!”

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Neogene. It’s Neogene.

Kolya didn’t usually meet people when he combed the realistic looking beach at… let’s say this is Fieldon again. But he did today. “This is a piece of ginger,” the stranger exclaimed to the man-boy while bending down to pick up something behind a tuff of beach grass. “The first thing I see when I come to the beach and it’s ginger. Imagine that.”

This made Kolya think about Ginger. Where was Ginger? Where was anybody in this land of 2? He needed to focus on the here and now. These realistic rocks might help. He’d seen them before. Fieldon? No, this is Fieldon.

Or was it?

I’ve got to get back to Canada, Kolya thought while kind of panicking in the moment as he realized the person in front of him was mere shadow-like hallucination. I’ve got to find Ginger!

—–

He asked to be centered. He stands on the very edge of the beach, its comber gone. *He* was the comber of course. And this definitely wasn’t Fieldon.

He watched himself walk away from himself in the distance.

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holey man

“Brain Damage he had.”

“We’ve already determined that, okay,” she replied, planning her escape route. Starbucks should be open by now — 5:00. But Baker is trying so hard to understand. The 2 is impossibly in front of the boy-man, right where the brain was…

“Have him interact with someone in this specific location, so close to Collagesity. Alysha, perhaps. She hadn’t been in a post in a while.”

“Only if,” she compromised, “Kolya goes back to the airport and finds out more about the red book and the accompanying red light.”

“Deal.” He spits in his hand, which she naturally doesn’t shake. Such a goofy person (!).

—–

“See there? Mysten Underhill and Mysten, let’s see, can’t recall the other one. Anyway, those *2* squares, just there. Down toward the lower right corner; right in front of you, in fact. Do you see the houses? Of course you do. I rented one of those, or attempted to. And *Spongeberg*, yes, was there. I recall the number… 144. Table. We tried to set a table up. Didn’t quite work.

Alysha let Kolya ramble on. He was a true friend and would do anything for her. He was attempting to explain the past of Mysten not far atall north of Collagesity through this old sim map they’d stumbled upon. He’d been here a long time. But so had she, just not as long.

“We owned just to the east,” he continued, remembering more and more about “2”. “But not in Siliconicus: that would be *southeast*. But the *Church* of the Silicon Soul was set up right on the border again. Right beside our own property.”

“The Table House.”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. “That was what it was called (!).” He paused, joyful in the memory. He could see vague faces around it.

—–

They had to go back in the past. And they could (!). Except only the darker side, the place of fumbles and bumbles. Spongeberg the Destroyer was still here, still lived in the general Collagesity area, but just more down in the east, beside Highway 14. He’d given up on 13 — moved on. The darkness beckoned. Christ and accompanying Christianity was not around to brighten the day any longer.


Mysten Underhill, 2015

—–

They both took another big lick of their triple scoop sorbet cones before continuing.

“Funny about places like this, Ayesha,” Kolya then said with cold mouth.

Alysha, she thought without correcting aloud, use to such things.

“Like they are stuck in time. Harder… more resistant to the general erosion… um.”

“… of Our Second Lyfe,” she finished for him.

“The 2, yeah.”

She looked at the top of his holey head, where the rain gets in. Simultaneously he recalls someone at the Table, as if they are linked by one user (they were). But he passes over the memory of Marty as if it were a letter gap. On to the next thought-color, green I believe.

Kolya realizes that was a lot of ice cream for a little girl. Because he could definitely finish it for her. “Are you done with that?” he couldn’t help asking while staring at the stack of mostly unlicked colorful balls in the cone in her hand. He was eager for more brain freeze.

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grid patterns

Kolya truly loved Hidi but could only touch and hold her in his dreams. There he called her “my unicorn” — that could be an alternate title of this post. The shower had yet to be installed at the uncompleted bathroom down toward the bay area in the dreamscape, but at this tree they’d set up duplicate poseballs in the meantime. It wasn’t ideal. Most times they just pass through each other, like tonight. There was no water, thus they remained dirty, or attempted to be. He called her a bad kitten and had to be punished. She laughed — that smile again. Always the smile. She took the tomfoolery good naturedly. It was all play in the land of dreams.

Reality reared its ugly head again. Kolya was sitting apart from Hidi in the train, who had also nodded off then woke up. They were having the same dream in fact. And where was Sam Jerry, her real part-time lover? Husband Axis had been left behind in NWES City, where he ran a brothel for cows. The other Jerry, who also goes by Harry and even more commonly Norris, had decided to become tiny again and look for his old home in Rose Heaven. He planned to go back to composing but slow it the hell down this time, one tri-chord per 2 seconds at most.

So they pondered about each other in awkward silence. In another dream, Kolya, and probably Hidi along with him as he thought he recalled, took the train all the way to Picturetown. “Where the hell is Picturetown?” he remembered asking a jogger on stilts in Toronto.

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No Toronto

“What was that destination again, sir?”

“Picturetown,” Kolya answered for Cpt. Margret Coffee. “Thanks for the coffee, Margret, by the way.” (*sip*)

“Call me Captain,” requested Margret, ready to sail the ship, as they say, after her stint at baggage check-in was over.

“Yes ma’am,” Kolya dutifully replied, a Marine brat as a youth and thus use to accepting orders.

“Ginger, you got anything yet?” asked Cpt. Coffee to the receptionist by her side, just back from medical leave for a face replacement.

“No, I’m afraid not. How about Toronto?” she offers. “*Very* popular destination. I’m betting you’ll like it there.”

“It has to be Picturetown,” insisted Kolya, off on one of his tangent tasks. “Try Prince Edward Island.”

“Ahh,” jumped in Cpt. Margret Coffee again. “A beautiful province. Setting for ‘Anne of Green Gables’, you know. You’ll *love* it there.”

“No, not that one, the other one, the other Prince Edward.” Kolya scratches his holey head, at a loss for words beyond this.

“The other Prince Edward… oh you mean the *county*.” Margret had figured that part out. “And *Picton*.” Margret had figured the other part out.

“Picturetown, yes.” Kolya could not pronounce it any other way, no matter how hard he tried to conform. Picturetown it is.

—–

The plane went down somewhere between Otterville and Delhi. That’s how Kolya met the red complexioned Indian fellow named Sam. Sorry: Jerry. He was wearing a lime colored shirt while jogging past a collapsed garage. He also owned a lime hued X 1/9, and stated this route to Delhi was much too dangerous to attempt it by car — too many right angle turns, too much distracting graffiti, especially down at the Indian Lake Creek Bridge, he said. He preferred running it. But he was all up for a lift when spotting the collapsed garage and Kolya just happened to drive by, asking for directions. “Which way does a bird fly to get to Picturetown around here?” he called through the rolled down window, just in time for Jerry to catch it since he was quickly losing steam. He had reached the end of his jogging days. “I’ll show you,” and he sprinted one last time around the side of the car and got in beside Kolya. Soon he had taken the driver’s wheel. The train tracks on the other side of Delhi beckoned. They were going beyond the before.

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3 cores and a dummy

The train was 2 full and so that’s how they all met. Jerry, also named Harry; the nice Indian man Hidi the hamburger woman started to date afterwards — the proximity was just too close in there; and lastly but not leastly, Kolya, the damaged one. All we needed was Alysha to walk in and take a seat opposite them, but that was for later. In the here and now, we have the 7 merging into the 6, secret smile discretely packed away like a traveling trunk for boys.

“I knew he was damaged and we shouldn’t touch so I turned the other way.”

“Toward… Jerry,” I guessed. I figured the red complexioned Indian dude might be named Jerry as well. Jerry Lind perhaps, compliment to Jenny.

W thought back to that important time and place. They were traveling at a breath-taking speed, destination unknown, perhaps to New Delhi and Delhi and thereabouts again but maybe not. The white tiles flew by outside, almost at a blur’s pace; opposite of turtle or snail. We were in Wallytown I knew that. W didn’t seem to be able to really leave, now she’d met Jerry Lind (we’ll keep calling him). Giant for a day and maybe giant forever. If Wallytown had its way.

(to be continued)

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Jerry Lind

She’d basically been living in Wallytown for I don’t how long, weeks at least. She’d taken enough showers to kill a cow, wash a bible head starless black ink sculpture all the way back to clear. She wasn’t done. Someone was with her, urging her on. Her worse half, as she called the louse (see above). This was the Orient, this was India. *She* was India. It was about time for an interview.

India: Glad be here. Glad you like my secret schweet smile.

Me: I missed you in Delhi and New Delhi. Turns out it was American instead of Asia.

India: I like hiding (laugh; smile revealed again)

Me: Chef-inspector Petty is hot on your tail. How do you feel about that?

India: He’ll never find me. And if he did he’s just a mesh object. No danger to him, none atall (smile again).

Me: What of the plane?

India: There *is* no plane. Petty knows.

Me: What of Kolya, who also goes by Pepi and Can?

India: (after a pause, then serious) A schweet boy, but damaged goods. I dare not touch him.

Me: And Alysha? We seemed to have scared away all the main characters.

India: *We* are the main characters. Always have been, you and I (she points to her and me).

Me: Alysha is Asian (I tried).

India: We are done.

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Fieldore, actually.

I feel like I’m missing something in the sim of Fieldon but I have a lot of time to figure it out. I sense I’ll be traveling up and down Highways 13 and 14 on either side of the beige ridge Collagesity fairly centers for a while.  I came to Nautilus from Rubi (Heterocera), I left Nautilus for Corsica, and then, lo and behold, found my old Fordham land was for sale real real cheap and figured it was a sign to move back. I don’t think I’ll be leaving again soon.

Here: New Jersey State Police, Nautilus Station off Highway 13 to the east of my home town, about 400 meters as the virtual crow flies. Jerseyville IL is named for the state of New Jersey which is named for the channel island of Jersey, another loop closed. I couldn’t establish a New Collagesity on the Corsica continent so I had to reinstate the old. It’s been a fascinating journey so far.

Look, I extend my draw distance to 512 and the Collagesity skyline comes into view. How nifty! “Right Harry?”

“Jerry, actually.”

—–

Later, back home: “Jerry… Jersey. Maybe that’s my missing piece, W.”

“For now.”

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Bushhhhh

I was told to meet him at the end of a long and dusty road. I said the name of the plant that appeared to be burning in front of me instead of the man.

“Nooooo,” he rasped. “I’mmm just *talllking* through thisss. Loookkk cloooosssser. Commme herrree.”

It was the voice of the father this time. I knew I was in deep doo doo trouble.

—–

“I remember how I got brain damage,” he said to her afterwards. “It was a fire; I got too close.”

“Good good,” she replied. “Now maybe those old wounds will heal — Can.” Only those quite close to him called him by that name, he remembered. She edged closer and gently touched the holey hair. Soon maybe no one else can get inside.

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Dubya

“Yeah, sorry we got cut off back there. It’s just the kids –” (reply) “No, first it was this turtle, and then a f-cking witch came out of the ditch.” (reply/reprimand). “Oh… I didn’t know that.” (reply) “Wife, eh?”

“Just get over here,” he barked from the other side of the line. “And expect some kind of spell day before tomorrow’s Tuesday.” (*click*)

The situation was growing worse. Orange now.

—–

The green phone rang. The green phone never rang. He went over and stared at it, wanting it to stop. Green screens flashed all around, as if connected to the rings. It was just that important. Time to calm the hell down.

“Pick it up,” Ballpark Johnson urged from the back windows, staring out at landing passengers, this time with a plane. “It’s the only way to end this.”

Oh I see: a name. “Say my name and I’ll do it,” replied the khaki wearing man beside the phone, smart with book inside him. Anderson County. Now he knows how to build a rock wall a mile long if needed. Which it will.

“*Can*.” Close enough.

“Hello?”

“Pepi?” came the hoarse and raspy voice from the other side, as if beyond the grave.

“Who is this?”

“You – know who. Last time – we met — I was — jovial.”

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