Tag Archives: NODAL++++

May 27, 2023 · 12:03 pm

different

Despite the prehistoric nature of the place they sometimes had guests. Like today. Robed angels of death stared at her in several sizes and shapes from this perspective. Death was the guest as well, it seemed.

“If I have children, *when* I have children,” she corrected, “I’m going to name them Flaarf and Bozo, after this Second Lyfe sim.” She has a second life here, she realizes. A second chance.

“What about Ingleboort, dearest,” offered Dr. Brown beside her. “I thought if you had twins you were going to name them Ingleboort and Flaarf, giving up on Bozo — like with the Middletown children. ” He didn’t add *alien* children. “It’s not a very complementary first name. Kids will make fun of him. Or her.”

“Yes,” she said, recalling that decision as well, a Muff-Bermingham one and not from the Moon. That darn, lingering Moon, bearded and all. She briefly looks into the sky to see if she can spot it. No luck; too sunny today she reckoned. Full shine on.

The guest finally spoke. He wanted to make a deal to come back. He wanted a religion named for him, this Mr. X as he called himself. Xianity would do swell. He said he’d die to make it happen if it came to that. And it probably would given our history.

“Starve,” he said, choosing a course to do it certainly not involving a meal. “I’ll go out in the dessert and fast myself to death. If it comes to that.” The visions must be purified, he knew. “Desert,” he then amended. “Did I just say dessert? How fitting!” He laughed, probably in a good way. Ally, yes.

As they negotiated, the roaming Allans roared but kept their distance, instinctively knowing here was someone who could eventually defeat their dark overlord and set them free.

(to be continued)

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May 27, 2023 · 11:12 am

a lane to walk down

He never could remember which one was an Allosaurus and which one was a Tyranosaurus so he ended up just calling them both Allanosaurus, a catchy name that he couldn’t get rid of, *achoo*. Darn, lingering cold.

He had just finished wiping his nose when Jane stirred in the tent.

“Ohh, my *head*.” It was here she realized she had lost another baby which was the same as a ball. It was all play and pretend except it wasn’t.

“I had to give you a sedative so you’d sleep through it all,” Dr. Brown explained to his ground 00 patient, still waiting for that ball to turn blue so he could determine a sex. Else: this keeps happening. Waking up in the woods. With the dinos, Real Self far far away.

Jane remembers the 8 corners of space, the near (Moon) and the far (Muff-Bermingham). Trouble was, she couldn’t remember which is which, more memory condensing and overlapping. Like with the Allans, as Brown eventually, inevitably shortened the name to.

“I… *died*!”

“Yes, in a way. Your baby died. You died along with it. Except you didn’t. You are here.”

Jane managed to raise herself from the tent floor, look out the door. Dinos. Allans. Everything was here that was needed to understand. South America. Land of the Dead.

“Library,” she said.

“That too,” he admitted. “I suggest we read while we wait. Cut back the talk. No need to waste oxygen. You have them in your eyes as well. Just think of a book to read… and read.”

(to be continued)

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May 26, 2023 · 3:45 pm

The Line (Upside-Down)

Doc Brown had about given up. He just can’t quite get this whole alien pregnancy in a ball concept down. He’s tried basket, he’s tried soccer now. He wanted a blue one but couldn’t find it in his inventory. Blue would set the correct position, right-side up instead of upside-down. This wasn’t working. He needed to get some sleep. He dozes on the spot. Right next to his creation. The girl from Venus, maybe Mars, with Jupiter and especially Neptune a much longer shot. He wanted her to be from a planet you could see and observe and not hide from. So Jupiter still in play. Even barely noticeable Uranus. Here he is, spacing out about space again, he laments. Can’t… sleep…

But he was.

He wakes up next to his wife of 17 years and stares over at the expanded stomach, the child they made together. Finally, after so many attempts. He’s going to teach him or her how to play basketball or soccer, his or her choice. Then he remembers the plug, the thing you’re not suppose to see but somehow he can. Just like Ruby. This indicates the alien nature after all, his greatest fear.

(to be continued)

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May 19, 2023 · 11:09 am

Annaberg Annabell

He barely looked up from the paper to acknowledge her presence. Artung with him ignored her completely, pretending to be absorbed in his own words. He was instead thinking. Back in the day this girl was *poison*. Yet she stood her ground before them defiantly, daring them to speak or act in some way. Jimmy Dieselengine finally rattled his paper loudly, which we know now is a sign of agitation and/or disapproval, and then rolled his eyes upward over the top, cooly meeting hers. “If we have to speak let’s do it in the cemetery where no one else can see us. 5:19 this afternoon.” And then he was back to reading, or at least pretend reading. Because he too was spacing out about the past now. The dancing. The playing of cards. Or so they heard.

—–

She had to pay 250 just to get him to sit down with her. He knew she had lots of cash because of the wall between the states. The tree beings she allied herself with back in the former era horded away beaucoup green within their narrow, dark confines, ready to burst forth at the Freeing Day, as they called it, and spend it hither and thither on overpriced trinkets and baubles, the opposition said of the impulse. The same considered her one of those trinkets or baubles, depending on what faction you asked. She was capitalism embodied, em*boldened*.

—–

She was a weed to be removed, she remembered a senior councilmember saying about her as she stared down at one of her kind, according to them, growing from a crack in the pavement. The meeting with Dieselengine was over. Someone was approaching with a ho. Better amscray before I am recognized again, she thought, and moved back into the shadows of the place.

—-

“The Monolith,” he summarized earlier at the bench in the far part of the cemetery, giving her what she wanted, what she could handle. The cold breath kept flowing out of her body like an expulsion of good from evil. “They had to push you out,” he said, watching it.

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May 14, 2023 · 7:29 am

German

He finally thinks to go inside somewhere and tell someone about the accident, the terrain shift. Paul is dead! it appeared. And Ringo. And John. Especially John, it seemed, deeper in the dirt than the others. He’ll remain in the Cavern now, trapped in the past forever and ever… And the future, as it turns out.

“Can I speak to the manager in charge?” Newt said to Sue Anne the counter attendant of the moment.

“How about the owner?” She indicated Evelyn Hart (“Rag Doll”) to her right, his left.

She was already pondering possibilities, seeing his own name above his head. Newt, she thinks. Odd — peculiar. Like the sim I — I mean, everyone here in town… controls. SODA. “Order something,” she decided to request, staring straight into his eyes over 01 02 03 04 gullies. “Some kind of drink. A soda perhaps.” Would he? Did he know the ultimate secret?

—–

Afterwards, he tried to isolate everything associated with the mysterious crash she talked about. 309 prims total in the linked objects, including this wagon that just happened to have formerly appeared in Squared Root City over in Nautilus, a town now defunct as we know from the last photo-novel (37). He recalled he use to be able to sit on these steps. Here:

https://bakerbloch.com/2021/11/21/00300301/

Whatever happened to the younger guy with the pure white hair? he wonders, thinking back. And then remembers the truth, the transformation.

(to be continued)

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May 4, 2023 · 3:38 pm

lordy lordy lordy

“Nah, I think you boys have it backwards. Go back and check. Pull Ted in with you this time, John, since he has the better peepers. Go up the stairs or down the stairs or however you do it — together.”

“Down,” said John to this. “I always head down.”

“Well there you go.” And Al was finished with the story for now and waved them outta his palatial office. Tom showing up in 1/2 an hour, one the more uppity uppers. He had to prepare, emotionally as well as mentally. Brace himself for what is coming.

The truck that had turned lime green in the meantime arrived at the Dorr’s house in Tyrone, New Mexico just south of mural filled Silver City where it was rented day before yesterday’s last week by the Horns.

Finally united for a common cause, they cautiously made their way up to the azure blue front door, Horns of Hatton activated. They paused at the bushes; peered around the corner to see what Good they were up against. The portal opened creakily from the other side. They turned away just in the nick of time. They noticed one of the angels was sight challenged — in shadow — while the other with his big, lidless eyes definitely could see the truck if not them. They had made a huge mistake in driving it here.

“Dude,” read that one to the other in the doorway. “Not Dud. Al was right. It wasn’t the *past*. It’s the *future*.”

The Devil couldn’t get away with it this time. He’d have to exit Grant. He took depossession of the body. Grant was saved by the powers of the door. Of the Dorrs.

(to be continued)

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May 3, 2023 · 3:11 pm

00380206

She barely made eye contact with him to acknowledge his presence. Cyberpunks, hmph, he thought. “Business good tonight, Lexi? Selling many sodas on top of the regular alcohol?”

“Whoa whoa there daddy blow. One question at a time. Try again.” She kept dancing to the beat that hadn’t started yet. DJ was still relaxing and chilling and drinking before the gig. While she had the time.

He skipped to the most important one. “Have — you — sold — many — *sodas*? On top of the alcohol which I know will do good,” he sped up.

“Two Hills,” she instead said.

“W-what?”

“Two Hills.” And she pointed to the left, the opposite way of the horn.

“Oh yeah. It’s a promotion.” He breathed a sigh of relief, knowing it could have been something else. Too early! “Now back–”

“Why does there have to be two?”

“*You* have two,” he wanted to answer, but then thought better of it. Maybe she didn’t. Was she a girl or boy? He never figured it out. I guessed she’d have them either way — doesn’t matter.

His lemon-lime drink awaited at the table. He looked around, seeing a lot of soda imbibing with his own two peepers. One over in the far corner had a Dr. Peeper. He resisted the urge to rush over there and swat it outta his hands, causing a scene. No scenes, his brother Benny Right Horn warned. “Tonight must go nothing wrong.” His words, not mine, Jer thought. That’s why he’s not here. Too drunk and coked up to make a proper showing of himself instead of a proper spectacle of himself. Typical. Cokeheads not allowed.

“Anyway,” he finally answered Lexi the bartender, still dancing to an imaginary beat or a beat from the future perhaps that only she can hear with her futuristic head and ears, “it kind of goes along with the idea of doubling the fun or doubling the pleasure.” He locked briefly with her sci-fi black within green within blue eyes. She was finished with him, he knew.

—–

He sat down beside her. The Hills came square to the camera, a horn curled against one of their cheeks.

“How is the wine?”

“Pretty tasty!” She downed another guzzle.

“Load up while you can. But not — too much. Take a swig of soda every now and then. People are watching.” He indicated the ads beside them. “Can’t let down the Hills.”

“Oh no.”

“Mike should be showing up soon.”

“And Pat,” she said. “I also invited Pat.”

“Oh boy.”

“Maybe. We don’t know!”

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May 1, 2023 · 11:27 am

00380201

Another ghostly Knight was showing them around. You can never completely escape the energy of The Father, the Dark Lord some call him. Red Devil in Xian terms. At his urging, they fed the function-o-meter in front of them with small copper coins — no change there — to watch TV. The ever-present ectoplasm did the work it was paid for.

“Very popular group in the 21st Century,” he rattled about the fuzzy figures on the non-machine, off by one century but only a fraction off the truth in present time, this 8008.

“Name?” tested Baker Bloch, moonburned from the larger space between the flowers. At 6’8″ he was taller than the trees. And even though bigger than birds, the bees offered minimal shade because of their speed. The present Knight again wrongly assumed he was embarrassed because of his lack of knowledge about, well, *everything*. He wasn’t embarrassed. He was just from the far far past. Like we talked about before. We apparently are still in Osse, motor dropped long ago. Like we’ve been driving around a car with no engine for forever.

Knight finally answered Beethoven, with Roll Over dropped early on from the name — even produced an early poster to prove his point. He should be the one to turn red, Baker thought.


early poster, according to Knight

Then while rolling back up the poster to put it away again, ghostly Knight, one of many in the clone hive, said he was joking and that their actual name was SODA. Another joke? Turns out: not. As Baker Bloch checked around, this SODA group seemed to manifest everything here, including the mica table (perhaps ground 00), the chairs around it, the Cavern itself, the *town* itself. Taking up the whole of a sim called Newt. Like the man, the father (of Shelley Struthers). This is, in effect, where he was born, or at least the name. And certainly the group name gives us an important clue about what happened to our society as a whole, the flip flopping of animals and plants and probably minerals as well (we’ll check the rounded mica table for more tips on that later). And the bearded and mustachioed Moon above it all. The Dark Lord. Without any possibility of escape via a satellite of its own, a Moon for a Moon. Bendy knows. He may be more than just a cameo figure in this here photo-novel, 38 in a series of a lot.

“We successfully,” continued Knight, “made the name illegal, *forbidden*, beyond any even seductive poser could get to. Even the pharmacists had the hoods pulled over their eyes, duck-like.”

(to be continued)

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April 27, 2023 · 4:45 pm

00380108

“Heyy. Howdy! Welcome to 108. You must be the Golden Girl I’ve heard about.”

“Well,” I said. “My hair is golden for sure. Some say dirty blonde but I like the metal.”

“Who doesn’t, who doesn’t? Come on in. I have *so* many things to show you, Golden Girl! Mineral. Plant. Animal. You name it!”

“I think you just did.”

“Hee hee, you’re a bright one. A big bright piece of shinyy gold, yeahh.” He waves without speaking again. He’s fading.

—–

“I found this after the dream. He must have been from the Moon.”

“Or the *Moon* of the Moon,” spoke the old hag more wisely than me, per usual. Not a golden girl any longer but, ooh, once upon a time…

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April 26, 2023 · 9:35 am

00380106

She caught some of the discussion from her rocking chair while perusing the paper (“Decatur Herald”), words like Oklahoma, Geronimo, Olive, Slick. She gathered an oil spill in the Panhandle which was not all wrong while being, at the same time, not at all right. Not 1/2 and 1/2. How to put it?

Blah blah blah Canada. Blah blah blah Ossemotos. They really need to turn down the blasters over there, Gloria thought about the music booming one dock over, the party getting more raucous as nighttime approached. Penny was preparing for her surprise entrance up in downtown Nightsity, applying hot pink lipstick while yawning for no good, real reason, effects of that dratted, psychic mountainair again. *Not* Ossemotos, she realized as the lyrics “Dam dam Amsterdam” blocked the next passage of discussion, followed just as loud by “Dam dam Rotterdam,” and “Dam dam Beaverdam”. Osse-motors.  As in ancient Nigerian oil port . *Motor*. She’d heard about it before through some military people she use to, ahem, date up in Dodgey City. And Zach Black was spilling his guts about it. Nigeria to Canada, Nigeria to Canada. Marines. But, most importantly, black gold. Texas tea. Texas Pete? “Texas Pete?!” she rather shouted through the boom. One of the two turned, the other being deaf.

(to be continued)

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