Tag Archives: Marion Harding

transference

“Yes, thank you Penn Mann. But we kind of already *knew* where the mound was on this sim map.” Waste of thin space he sometimes is, she thought to herself, but only huffed outwardly.

Embarrassed, Penn Mann moved away from the map and propped himself back up against the wall beside Dr. I.C. Yourinsides. After considering the next step, he thought into their heads again. “Give me your idea of how Tronesisia — Sissy — and this Rocky being I hadn’t met until yesterday’s rehearsals — fine fellow, though — tell me how they knew about Billy’s secret hideout. Any clues?”

“We don’t *need* clues, Penn Mann. Mr. Director.” Dr. I.C. blew out air again. “It *happened*. Tronesisia and Rocky noticed that there were 3 extra prims on the property the other day. They’re very meticulous about counting, since they leave full building permissions on that property for the various entertainers passing through. They used remote viewing to pretty quickly find the cube, the most solid and rounded of the 3, just under the floor of the nightclub. This led (them) to the other two objects linked to the cube — the copy of ‘I, Robot’ by another Carter person apparently [sic], and then the Jimmy Carter cutout that represents Billy’s *real* brother, or what he takes to be his real brother anyway. It’s all brainwashery, though: the alien disguise, everything. He’s really human through and through in this production. But he’s not really a he.”


“So it *is* you.”

Penn Mann considered this as well. “What about the public urination, then, the pissing with the [delete name]? And Mr. Yellow. Or Yellows, 2 of ’em. He drank the special brew, but is then discovered pissing it back out at that public landing spot for Wallytown, all out in the open and all. But it takes two Mr. Yellows, combined, to accomplish this. What does that mean?”

Dr. I.C. threw up her hands, then figuratively punted. “You take it Spocari Nemoy.”

“Captain,” admonished Nemoy. “Use the title when speaking to me in this war room. I outrank you.”

Dr. I.C. blew him a raspberry with this. “Go ahead then, *Captain*. Give our Director Mann a dose of some more truth. He wants fiction, we give him reality back.” She turned to Penn Mann again. “All this *happened* to us — get that through your thin, ink filled head.” She looked him over. “Which side is your head anyways?”

“Biker Chick,” went Penn Mann on a tangent again in their heads. He had this in common with his Urbane Blue director doppleganger: Eraserhead Man. Without eyes, without mouth, he turned his attention to the black and pink clad woman sitting beside Nemoy, who was markedly leaning in the opposite direction from her, obviously uncomfortable with her presence here. “We seem to need a fresh perspective on this,” Penn Mann thought. “Give us what you think.”

Dr. I.C. Yourinsides spoke up again. “Biker Chick doesn’t know anything; she has just arrived.”

“Nevertheless,” insisted Penn Mann inside their heads. “I am *still* the director of the production, despite what you may think, Good Doctor.”

“Oh Lord,” she exasperated. “Go ahead, then, Biker-Chick-still-not-even-with-a-name-yet. Tell us what you got.”

“Heidi,” she piped up in a thin voice after a pause. “My name is Heidi.” But Nemoy and Yourinsides both realized it was actually Penn Mann speaking *through* this person. She looks down at her hands, wiggles them around. She reaches up and touches her face, her eyes, her mouth.

And then she touches something else. “How do you like *these* apples?”

Spocari Nemoy started to feel red-blooded again. This is what he didn’t like about biker chicks, among many other things. But this above all else. What would Marlon Brando do? he thinks for not the first nor last time.

He makes a mental note to schedule another regeneration session with Lt. Gunnhead asap.

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

no brainer

“Ground Zero, my friend,” spoke Philip over the music. “Ground Zero.”

Staring at the Jack Daniels whiskey bottle in front of him, Marion nodded.

“Over the Rainbow” and “On the Run” combined.

—–

That last track was simply beautiful, Tronesisia. It’s as if Judy Garland came back from the dead and took the mic again.”

“Thank you. My friends call me Sissy. Please. Call me Sissy.” She winked her robotic blue eye seductively at Philip Strevor. Then she did the same to Marion Harding seated beside him, except with the other eye. Two blue eyes.

“And your Pink Floyd rendition, Rocky. What can I say but wowzers. Wowzers! You both are so great.”

“We appreciate it,” chipped in bass voiced Rocky Rocco, who hasn’t been seen since way back in Collagesity novel 6. “I had an excellent teacher for that one.”

Tronesisa nodded in agreement. “Excellent indeed.”

Rocky leans over and pats Tronesisia’s silver knee. “And you too, dear.”

Tronesisia suddenly gets a sad, faraway look in her eyes. “It is so, it is so.”

“Sooo… let’s get down to business.” Unglueing his gaze from the bottle still in front of him, Marion Harding opens the briefcase full of money.

“L$50,000,” said Philip without looking. “It’s all we have right now.”

“That will do,” returned Tronesisia.

“Yeah, that’ll do,” agreed Rocky quickly. Tronesisia and Rocky steal a winning glance at each other.

—–

“He’s in here.”

“God I hate spiders, Marion. You go first.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

Billies

“I’d like to hire you for a job Detective Strevor. I’m looking for my brother. Billy.”

What a peculiar thing, thinks Philip Strevor before answering. *I’m* looking for a Billy.

“I’ll take the case.”

—–

“Got a job today, Marion. Looking for *Billy*.”

Marion Harding stared at the tv screen a bit. Then: “*Our* Billy?”

“Dunno.” Philip Strevor shifted his weight on the couch. “Go ahead and hit unpause. Just wanted to tell you that before we got into the whole atomic bomb thing.”

“Have to think about that one.”

“Yep. Sure will. Find out soon enough, I suppose. If I can find him.”

“Her,” Marion Harding corrected. He picked up the remote.

“Yup.”

The explosion continued.

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Filed under *Second Life, Wallytown/Fishers Island

couched

In a pot haze, Marion Harding waits patiently for the show to begin. He loves Elvis impersonators. Hucka Doobie tries to join him but finds she can’t.

—–

“Time to pull her out of that sluggish place,” Baker Bloch speaks about Gaston to Baker Blinker from their usual perch at the Perch restaurant. “Function’s basically used up anyway.”

“There’s the couch, still,” counters the female Baker. “Jeffrie Phillips — white star.”

“I can’t even find it tonight it’s so laggy. And I dare not log in Wheeler to help. My computer will crash, I’m sure of it.”

“Sugar house,” Baker Blinker then says. “Sugar’s House.”

“Alright I’ll give it another shot.”

“Give one to Marion as well.”

—–

“She does strike a good pose there,” Baker Bloch says, looking on remotely. “She seems… confident.”

“Put her with Marion. See what happens. Minimize windows as needed.”

—–

“It’s no use, Baker Blinker. Hucka Doobie just appears gray, like she’s in David Bowie’s shiny spacesuit from ‘The Man Who Fell To Earth.'”

“Precisely.”

—–

“Oops. There she is.”

“Have him walk. Have them talk. Plop Marion down in the plastic seat in front of Hucka Doobie. See what goes down.

—–

She’s wondering how much money is in that attache case, Baker Bloch. $50,000 lindens? Enough to get her out of this hazy, laggy place? Could be.”

“But how to strike up a conversation?

—–

Too late: looks like the show’s starting.”

“And that’s *not* Elvis.”

—–

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston

beamers

When it got dark enough, Tonya Two Egg’s two egg shaped eyes “turned on”. She’d had this ability since infancy, according to family members. It also gave her special vision to see things that weren’t *quite* there in reality but actually really were still.

Like Marion here, crashed out on top of the couch formerly occupied by Harry.  Uncle Harry he insisted she call him at the end of their conversation, which was refused by the wise child. Just because he was one of a *number* of suitors strung along by her 18 year old sister Anorexia — Annie — doesn’t give him that privilege. She had only one uncle she knew of: Dick. And he had moved away when she was 8 to distant Mimosa (so they said), several years after Arale had been constructed. And not too long after the mysterious disappearance of her parents. Couldn’t be coincidence, she had concluded while pondering the odd conjunction down through the years now. Dick must have known the whereabouts of Ruth and Benjamin. And then there was also James and Fuschia, Billy and Donovan, Jackie and Ona. And the strangely cool yet confusing Sis brothers. All flesh and blood family members. All gobbled up by an unknown force between the times of June 2010 and October 2013, she’d decided. She even had a name for it now: JERRY. All caps. Tonya Two Egg was bound and determined to uncover the nature of this, in her eyes, malefic entity.

13 Annie was at the time. *Just* old enough to act as their legal guardian under Horizons laws of the day. Upheld during a 2015 hearing involving 23 such guardians under the age of 18 — grandfathering in the old law the judge had called it. And now she herself would be 13 in 2 weeks, old enough to be on her own according to the same exemption. And Arale too — they could move. She was already secretly scouting out locations away from the prying eyes of her older sister. The ice fishing shack near their house acted as a dream portal.

Arale was so excited for her sister… was planning a big birthday ta-do, which Tonya Two Egg had discouraged but also had become resigned to participate in. Cousin Rufus was flying in from Mobile, Alabama. Ted and Jemima from Jacksonville City. Bob and Wanda — little Utah village of Indiana County in Pennsylvania. Never mind that these were more robots created by her own robot, and that, outside of Annie, no one knew the whereabouts of any of her real family. Mechanoids were her true kindred spirits now. Tonya Two Egg has even pondered that she herself may be a very well made robot sent back to our present from the future.

And this turns out to be spot-on truth.

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston

Wastelands

Marion Harding sees those red and greenish lights above him again, but in a different location.

And he’s wasted as hell from the pot recently purchased from drug lord Santa God at The Octopus Ink.

“Who *are* you guys??”

“So we need to talk, Harry,” spoke Tonya Two Egg to the bleached face man sitting across from her. “About Annie. About a lot of stuff.”

“It’s not safe here,” he replied, then glances over at the giant bong to his right.


But no one was there.

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston

Octopi

—–

“They’ve been out there a long time, Golden Joe. I wonder if the deal will go through?”

“Have you ever thought about traveling to the center of the sun, Marion,” she deviated in her deep, metallic voice. “It’s actually quite nice.”

“I remember Philip mentioning that concept once. Philip something.”

—–

“Alright, I won’t split hairs any more, Cooper. We’re both tired; 50,000 lindens it is. Now spill your contents on the table here and let’s count it out.”

“Okay.”

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Filed under *Second Life, Hana Lei, Nautilus/Philo